#and id still be terrified to cross the boundary

[floorpancakes]

im reaching new and concerning levels of understanding watanuki on a personal level

[cosmiccrushes]

Mints & Movie Stars

Sanji x OC || 2.1k word chapter || 5k total

CH 1 here!

CH: 2

Sanji waits for his driver, Mason, to pull around, debating the likelihood that he'd be getting a call from HR. Twice. He'd touched her twice today. What was the matter with him? Nearly three times he reminds himself, if he counts the arm he draped around her chair. Which he doesn't. He'd long ago given up being cross with himself about the micro ways he found to be near her, to keep her close. But he’d set a hard line with himself at too familiar touches. He was her employer. He needed to act like it. Her safety was his responsibility. 

Which is why his annoyance skyrocketed earlier when Rachel talked of his security detail for the trip. She acted as if Sanji’s safety was the only consideration. What about Peri? Sanji’s selfish desire to keep her so close to him meant that tabloids made her a target of inquiry. As evidenced by today when Miss Asher asked a question as if Peri wasn’t sitting right next to him. This kept happening. Sanji’s response thus far involved redirecting away from Peri. He didn’t know what else to do. He feared revealing some inkling of his feelings and throwing fuel on the inferno gossip magazines thrived on. Sanji told Peri to ask for Elle and Robbie because he trusted them the most out of the agency’s in-house security team. Whenever they escorted him, Peri got included inside that bubble of protection, not treated like an afterthought. Traveling out of Vennport, Sanji wanted people he could trust. 

Mason parked at the curb, exiting the vehicle to open the rear door for Sanji. 

“Thanks, Mason.” 

“You’re quiet today,” Mason comments after several blocks of silence. 

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose I am. I booked a major role today. Going to be heading out of the city soon.” 

Mason smiles at him in the rearview mirror. “Congratulations! That’s great news. Will Miss Winters be accompanying you?” 

“Yeah, Peri will be there.” Sanji did his best to ensure Peri was always there. Driving back shadows she couldn’t see. 

“That’s good, Mr. Vinsmoke. She does a great job looking out for you. You need someone to take care of you while you’re busy being famous.” Mason smiles at him again. 

Sanji presses his forehead against the cool car window. He’d nearly confessed to Peri earlier how much he needed her. Not his personal assistant, her. Like an idiot. The truth was, he was terrified of not getting the role, of plummeting into obscurity- and willing to take any chance he could get to be near Peri, to let her assuredness soothe his anxiety. Then, in his moment of joyous career triumph, he’d scooped her into his arms. Like an idiot. Good luck to him ever forgetting the feeling of her body pressed against his, her laughter in his ear. Spinning together, boundaries blurring in a way that almost, almost, made Sanji feel like they were something more.  

Sanji knocks his head on the glass in personal penance, earning him a raised eyebrow from Mason.

***

Sanji sits inside his walk-in closet. His feet propped on top of his unopened, empty suitcase. Sanji hates packing. It reminds him too much that he’s not really going anywhere- and when he gets there- that he doesn’t really have anywhere to return. Sanji is lonely. He’s been lonely since his mother took her last breath, the final bowl of soup six-year old Sanji would ever make for her still cooling on her bedside table.

He grumpily kicks his suitcase. He hates wallowing in woeful memories. Can’t really afford it either. He worked hard to achieve his celebrity status, but it was a tenuous thread. Easily severed the second Sanji stepped out of line. People coveted the carefree movie star persona. No one wanted the morose man lying in a closet by himself kicking his metaphorical bag of childhood trauma. 

Sanji’s phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket. The caller ID displays the name of his only friend. “Hey, Luc.” 

“SanjI! What the hell man, when were you going to tell me!?” 

Sanji pulls the phone away from his ear at Luc’s volume. “What are you talking about?”

“The Stiegal movie! You got the role!” 

“Wow, that news traveled fast. I don’t think the agency even wants that announced yet.” 

“Bah, I didn’t read about it online. Buzz me in! I’m at your door.” 

“Of course you are. Just a second.” 

Minutes later, Luc joins Sanji on the floor of his closet, passing him a beer from the six pack he’s brought. 

“Thanks for this.” Sanji says, raising his beer bottle. 

“Absolutely. You land what’s sure to be the hottest movie of the year. What kind of best friend am I if I don’t make sure you celebrate?” 

“How did you find out anyway?” Sanji asks, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Ran into Tak at a mixer earlier. She told me.” 

Sanji’s brow furrows. “Tak? My hairstylist? And how did she know?” 

Luc shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe your assistant told her, they’re friends, you know.” 

Yes, Sanji knew. He remembers the first time Tak brought Peri as her plus one to a party. Sanji hadn’t known how she knew Tak then, but his eyes had been drawn to her like a magnet. She’d seemed uncomfortable, but not in a self-conscious way. More like she just wished she was somewhere else. Sanji kept missing snippets of conversation as his mind drifted in daydreams about what other place the woman trailing behind Tak might wish to be. 

“Peri wouldn’t do that.” Sanji says, defensiveness obvious in his tone, even to himself. 

Luc lifts an eyebrow. “Ah, yes. Of course, Peri would never do something wrong. 

“I will pour this beer on you.” Sanji threatened. 

“It’s your closet,” Luc says shrugging. 

Sanji sighs. “I just meant that Peri is good at her job. She wouldn’t spread gossip.” 

“Oh, I know what you meant,” Luc says, smirking. “So when do you start filming?”

“We’ve got to sail out to Crow Island in the next week for table reads.” 

“Crow Island?” Luc sits up straighter, voice rising with interest. “That place is a veritable pleasure island! I’d know!” Luc winks at him, smile turning mischievous. “Now, I would assume that Miss Peri Winters will be accompanying you to said island?” 

Sanji looks at his best friend darkly. “Stop.” 

Luc laughs boisterously. “Oh come on, Sanji! It’s perfect! You’ll get all swept up in the thrill of your new fancy movie and then you tell her how you feel! Finally!” 

“Stop it. No. I cannot and will not be doing that.” 

“Why not?” Luc stretches the phrase out. 

“Because,” Sanji sets his beer on the floor, angrily unzipping his suitcase. “It’s beyond inappropriate. I’m her boss.” 

“The line between boss and boyfriend could be so thin, you just have to believe.” 

Sanji throws a t-shirt he’d been folding at Luc’s head. “Don’t be gross.” 

Luc pulls the t-shirt off his head. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I’m just saying. You deserve to be happy. And sooner or later she’s going to figure out how you feel. You’re not that good of an actor.” 

Sanji opens a drawer, pulling out socks that he pelts Luc with, which does nothing to remove his best friend’s mirthful smile.  

***

“We’re here, Mr. Vinsmoke, Miss Winters.” Mason says from the driver's seat, clear morning sun streaming through the windows.

“Thank you, Mason. And oh!” Peri rummages around in her tote bag, pulling out a thermos that she presents to Mason. “Clam chowder!” 

“You didn’t!” Mason’s cheeks flush as he reaches across the center console to take the container from Peri. “You shouldn’t have, Peri. Where did you even find the time?”

Oh so it’s Peri now, not Miss Winters. 

“It was nothing!” Peri smiles brightly at their driver. 

Sanji feels distinctly left out of whatever's happening in the front of the car. “Peri, don’t we need to get going? We can’t be late.” 

Peri looks back at him. “Right. Enjoy the clam chowder, Mason. Let me know how it is!” Peri pats him on the arm before opening her car door. 

Sanji follows her out. “What’s with the soup?” 

“Hmm?” Peri walks without glancing up from her fingers tapping away on her phone. 

“The soup? That you just gave Mason?”

“Oh, he mentioned that it was a speciality in the town where he grew up and he’s missed it since moving here. I did a quick search and found a copycat recipe and tried it out last night.”

“Weren’t you busy planning for our trip all day yesterday?”

Peri finally looks up at him, frowning. “Don’t worry, Sanji. I’m on top of it. I made the chowder on my own personal time.”

Not what Sanji meant, but what he meant rarely seemed to come out the right way around Peri. With everyone else his words flowed out effortlessly, and people always seemed to like what they heard. But with Peri…his words were like a current reversed, flowing in the complete opposite way he usually meant for them to. He hated it. He didn’t know how to fix it. 

Classic Peri, someone needed taking care of and she was right there to offer it. It was one of the things that drew him to her. Her heart was so big. The third occasion Sanji ever saw her, she’d been bringing a cup of water to one of the musicians playing at a charity ball the entire agency had turned out for. He’d watched, enraptured as she noticed the overheating cellist and discreetly made her way to the bar to order a water. She’d hovered at the stage’s edge, waiting for a break in songs to present the cup to the woman. She’d smiled gratefully at Peri and Peri’s answering smile was so warm, Sanji felt it from across the room. What would it be like, he wondered, to stand in the full glow of that smile? He’s never going to find out if he keeps acting like a complete ass around her.   

“Which reminds me, you can check your email for the travel itinerary, but I’ll also leave a hardcopy on your desk. I’ll come by your place tomorrow night with the suggested packing list from your stylist.” Peri pauses, frowning down at her phone. At least it was no longer directed at Sanji. “Wait, actually tomorrow night’s no good for me.” She taps a finger to her lip. “I’ll see if Cam can have the packing list ready to drop off tonight.” 

“Why doesn’t tomorrow night work for you?” Sanji asks. His engagements tomorrow conclude by 6 o’clock, or so he thought. Although, admittedly, Peri is the one who makes sure Sanji is where he needs to be, when he needs to be there. She’d know best.

A blush colors her cheeks. “I, uh, I have a date.” 

Sanji swears his heart skips a beat. “A date?” 

“Don’t worry,” Peri says hurriedly. “I planned it for after your last appointment ends so it won’t interfere with work.”   

Sanji’s getting tired of her telling him not to worry. “Is it a good idea to go on a date before we’re out of town for a while?”

Peri’s lips press into a thin line. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.” 

No, it bloody well wasn’t any of Sanji’s business but oh how he wanted it to be. “I’m sorry, Peri. You’re right.” 

Peri nods her head once, proceeding through the glass door of the agency’s building. 

Sanji watches her go, feeling like an absolute jerk for the way his mind is already spinning with plausible ways he could sabotage Peri’s date. He won't. Probably. What's another night spent alone in his closet polishing off a six pack, just him and his baggage.

Sanji spends the rest of the day in a grumpy haze that he hides behind pleasant smiles. It’s a day filled with meetings and contract negotiations and plans for filming. Sanji does his best to stay focused and listen. Feels a little guilty knowing Peri will pick up whatever slack he drops because of his lack of concentration. He asks her for mints more frequently than usual, unable to quell the desire to pull her attention to him for even a moment. Worried that he crossed a line with her this morning that would lead her to quit. To walk away from him and never return. But Peri is her usual, efficient self all day. 

A familiar feeling of defeat lodges under his ribs. Peri was fine, because Peri wasn’t dissecting and agonizing over everything he did. That night, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, Sanji tried very hard not to agonize over the date Peri would be on tomorrow night. 

[superman--yoosung]

hi your matchups say they're still open, i hope this it okkk!! i'm 🐇

• i have no preference towards gender but i don't like super masculine characters

• i don't really use pronouns but she/her, ver/vers, it/its are ok. fem presenting but with androgynous swag. beautiful in a girlprince way

• adult character from genshin! only recently turned 18 though haha. no tighnari or childe pls!

• i loove fashion (designing it, studying it, wearing it), idols, rabbits and deer, sewing outfits + plush dolls and creaching around at night. i haate loud, messy people and lots of textures (i'm autistic). i hate the sunlight! terrified of dogs IRL but i'd be a collie or black german shepherd.

• i'm mostly quiet (INTP), i have no control over my tone/filter so i get people saying they thought i hate them/i look angry a lot. air-headed, very low attention-span and "bimbo" tier. clumsy most of time/i dont look at what im doing. i love acting valley girl or like a malnourished bimbo (idk). i'm like a dog with the personality of a cat. beliefs.. don't be a freak idk .. don't kill ppl and i will be judgmental if i don't like your vibes.

• i think i'd have electro vision just because i get it a lot on quizzes. i also connect to it the most aesthetically. id love a sword and id have a vv elegant/pretty fighting style ..

• personal flaw erm there's zero connection between my brain and mouth so i can't really communicate much of my real feelings (esp affection). i also struggle to connect with ppl!! i'm mostly disconnected 90% of the time so it's very hard to truly love (romantically or platonically) someone for me!

• i'm 162cm... vampire to the extreme i'm 100% a vampire if im in genshin.. very strict on skincare and how i look (sensitivity issues). OR half-deer.. or half-rabbit.. My personal aesthetic is ouji/lolita, victorian/gothic themes of Black Butler and The girl from the other side.. Dark fantasy/dark academia.. LOL

i'm TERRIBLE at giving affection and words of affirmation. i love words of affirmation though and i realllly jus want someone equally as love with me/if not more

Hello 🐇, nice to meet you!! Your matchup was challenging because I kept doubting my choices, thinking, "Wouldn't this or that character's design be a texture/sensory nightmare, though??" which is a really silly thing for me to get caught up in, of all the many factors involved. (But in my defense, all the characters have SO MUCH going on in their outfits haha!!)

Your matchup is.............................

KAZUHA !!

Meeting under the cloak of darkness once or twice could merely be considered coincidence... By the fifth time, however, Kazuha was certain: it was fate that continued to bring the two of you together.

To those unfamiliar with the elusive duo, a relationship such as yours might seem threadbare - after all, since you only made your appearance when the moon was at its highest, and Kazuha drifted from place to place like a leaf in the wind, it seemed unlikely that you would ever cross paths in important ways. But you both knew differently. Naturally, even the smallest of actions, a singular drop in a pool of water, becomes a ripple whose rings inevitably grow in meaningful ways.

This is how Kazuha views your relationship: subtle, and all the more beautiful for it.

Fun details:

It will not take too many meetings for Kazuha to find you endearing. He's observant, so the nuances of your interactions will linger in his mind long after you've left. He'll enjoy learning about you and your mannerisms! He will always be respectful of your boundaries, too - and with his sharp mind, he can often tell if you're bothered without you having to verbalize it. (He'll ask, anyways, though, just to be sure.)

Kazuha admires your abilities and passion in subjects you enjoy. Many of the evenings you spend beneath the moonlight or on cloudy days are filled with discussions that jump from topic to topic, sharing your interests with one another. Kazuha is an eager listener, so feel free to share your passions to your heart's content! He will remember most every word. But when you're feeling quiet or have nothing to share, he can fill the silence with his charming words - though quiet companionship is also enough, too.

Of course, he knows how clumsy you can be, but as long as he's around, the wind will keep you steady on your feet. If you're comfortable with physical touch, he'll reach out to balance you, or let you hold onto him. If not, he'll do his best to verbally warn you of any uneven terrain or obstacles in your path you haven't noticed.

You two are THE definition of elegance in battle. Kazuha can swirl your electro abilities, making potent reactions. And as sword users, you can both keep your skills sharp by practicing together!

If you ever give Kazuha one of your creations, it will almost instantly become one of his most treasured posessions. He will do his best to keep it safe from harm on his journeys - though the wear and tear clothing might get from constant use is, in a way, a sign of how much he loves it. (Please forgive him if the clothes or plushies do see some light damage, though; the mercenary life is not always kind.)

Once you've become closer, Kazuha will bring you gifts from his travels. They're mostly small things that remind him of you: a carving of a rabbit, some medicine for your most recent clumsy tumble's resulting scratches, a paper umbrella from Liyue to help block out the sun. Whatever he sees that he thinks would interest you or that you might find use for in your day-to-day life, he'll get. If you dislike any of them, he takes no offense to that, either - he'll quietly store the details of what you disliked about it in his mind for reference the next time he gets you something.

You want words of affirmation? Oh, boy, does he provide! It's actually rarer for him to not slip a compliment or reassurance into your conversations. He'll take any chance he can to remind you of how much he treasures your company, and should you decide to pursue a romantic relationship with him, how much he delights in giving you affection (and being the recipient of yours, in whatever ways you deign to give it.)

He will write the most stunning of poems with you in mind, string dozens of haikus together with your name as inspiration. And, in the quiet company of only you and the moon, he'll whisper words of devotion, of loyalty and hope.

Kazuha, if asked to point to the one thing he loves most about you, will laugh at the inquiry, shaking his head. How can one point to a cloud in the sky and call it superior to the others around it? Kazuha thinks all of the things that make you unique are inseparably what he loves you for. To ask him to pick one is to ask the impossible of him. Still, if it was you who pressed him for an answer, he might relent, and tell you this: your very presence, right here beside him under the nighttime tapestry of midnight blue and flickering stars, gives him a sense of belonging, makes him think that - yes - there are things far greater than a life of wandering... and they can all be found within the depths of your eyes.

~~I feel like many writers default to Albedo when someone mentions difficulty expressing emotions, and while I do love him for you too (for other reasons), I thought Kazuha would be better with words of affirmation and understanding what you may leave unspoken. I almost went with Rosaria or Yelan, also, as you both could be creatures of the night together (lol), but I hope this matchup is satisfactory!

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin’s Chapter 26 Parallels- Analysis

This was in my drafts for the longest time, but now since new MLDD chapters are out (and with S2 coming), I thought I should finish this post.

I remember watching this chapter for the first time when it came out earlier this year, noticing parallels about Gavin’s time and behaviour displayed in the STF Observation Centre to other Gavin-related details.

Spoilers of Chapter 26 and future content below.

Gavin’s Encounter Summary

MC, with the help of Shaw and Litton, disguises herself as a man to enter the observation centre to find Gavin and clues about her lost Evol. 

A device for Evol suppression is placed on every test subject in the centre, and she wonders the pain Gavin must be in. 

MC, who? The name’s Mortimer Smith, ID number 134. 

MC is placed with her roommate, another Evolver who lost control of their Evol around the TV tower incident.

He tells her, “as long as you don’t cause trouble and listen to the observers, you’ll get along okay.”

She tries to squeeze out some information about Gavin from him, but learns that it’ll be difficult since they don’t use names to address the Evolvers, but instead codes. 

MC is summoned to "Evol examination" and MC has hope that she might see Gavin. 

She walks down a long corridor with other Evolvers waiting to be examined. 

She fails to notice a shadow in front and collides with a hard, sturdy chest.

Her foot slips and grabs onto the mysterious person’s arm as he holds onto her too.

She’s too embarrassed to look at his face.

She notes that the only thing in her vision was her trembling fingertips on his arms. 

But without looking, she already knows the arms she’s in. 

Emotions build up and she hears his heartbeat. 

She grips his arms tighter as she begins to speak. 

As the observers approach, Gavin finally looks up, his expression turning cold, and they are SHOOK.

He stares at MC for a long time then turns his head to walk on. 

MC lets him walk past. 

Her roommate looks at her in disbelief, surprised that she survived an encounter with “No.7" in one piece, thinking that she was “a goner for sure”. 

She asks if they’re all afraid of him, to which he replies with a nod.

He says that No.7 is more terrifying than Observers themselves, but then retracts his statement. 

Extra: So... has Gavin been having nightmares? :(

Observation Test Centre

The most obvious correlation from other chapters and mentions would be Gavin being named No.7 as his code name, as this number is always associated with him.

This analysis could just end here.

But wait- there's more.

High School

Said to be the “school tyrant” and seen as the outcast, Gavin chose to be misunderstood over conforming to rules- ones that he didn't agree with.

Gavin didn’t have friend groups like everyone else notably did (like MC and her group of friends as they walk down the hallways laughing as Gavin stares googly-eyed from a distance). He had stuck by himself and his own morals like a lone wolf (with his casual but not-so-casual buddy Minor).

MC's roommate: A lot of people that end up here all forms cliques to get along, but he’s always been a lone wolf. And he’s always dealt with anyone who crossed him. Just now you bumped right into him as if you were blind. I thought for sure you were going to get smacked...

Furthermore, Gavin was always the one to challenge authority, whether it would be school teachers or even his superiors later in life. MC stated that Gavin had once fought with a school teacher, but this was probably due to some misunderstanding or that they had existing prejudices against him. 

“No.7! Why are you still standing there!?” 

Observers continue to call out to him, but Gavin ignores them. 

Gavin doesn’t fear that people won’t understand him- he knows that people don’t and won’t, which is also a contributing factor to why he doesn't feel the need to explain himself or his actions to anyone.

But this also is why he also had a rough journey from rightfully staying true to himself. Without any real support system within and outside of school life, Gavin suffered. Luckily, there was Mr Keller who was willing to listen to him. He told Gavin, “since you can’t change what others think of you, you might as well just listen to your heart". This had a great impact on him.

Additionally, Gavin fears for an entirely different reason. In fact, Gavin understands this sort of fear more than MC realises. Gavin was even more willing to throw himself into this mission when MC was gone because he really had no choice but to continue without her by his side. In Perilous Date, MC and Gavin talk about this its the closing moments.

MC: Gavin, you could be in danger at any time... Do you think it's worth it?

Gavin: I never thought about it... What if I say it's my destiny? Would you believe me? Don't worry. I won't put myself in harm's way again. Seeing you cry is just not worth it.

MC: Aren't you scared?

Gavin: I was never scared before when it was just me. But now... I am.

(Meanwhile MC now in the chapter: *crying*)

MC had kept him moving forward- to become stronger with his goal of protecting her, influenced by his father into joining special training in CN Tilted Time R&S. His father used MC again for Gavin to undergo modification to make his Evol stronger in Chapter 15.

Here’s an extra line that caught my eye:

He stares at MC for a long time then turns his head to walk on. She lets him walk past. 

Parallels with their high school moments:

Gavin leans against a tree as he watches MC hurry down the corridor as she clutches a textbook.  -[Boundary R&S]

Special Task Force

Gavin had returned to Loveland City as Special Agent B-7 to find MC at the very beginning.

Even now stripped of his STF title as Captain, he still embodies justice. With his current knowledge of the identities of Evol criminals, he’s even able to find and make good use of them as a distraction in the Observation Centre. 

Gavin’s unapproachability and cold exterior are also highlighted.

MC's roommate: Just now you bumped right into him as if you were blind. I thought for sure you were going to get smacked...

But for MC, he learns from her how to live a more tender life [Spring Festival Date]. For her, he’d live. He’d also help her do anything just so that she wouldn’t have to shoulder anything- even the bare minimum alone. But he hadn’t reflected this upon himself to change- notably seen in Chapter 12-6.

MC: He wasn't like that before when he was with the squad?

Eli shook his head. He opened his phone and brought up a picture, handing it to me.

Eli: He was always like this before.

Gavin's face in the photo was a little immature. Wearing his military uniform, even though he was saluting, there was still an unmistakable look of proud aloofness and unruliness.

New Weapons

After leaving STF, Gavin’s newly appointed code name was NW717. He was able to gain new Evol power by undergoing remodelling experiments. Under NW orders, he snuck into the Observation Centre to find MC, believing that the Evolution Accelerator could lead to some clues.

And no matter what organisation Gavin's under, he’ll always find his way back to her.

This photograph has already turned slightly yellow and has a pretty-looking girl on it. After a while of thinking, I place the photograph next to Gavin’s pillow. Perhaps this way, he can have a good dream. -[CN NW Project R&S]

Emerging from NW, people still were terrified of Gavin, mostly because of his cold aura and powerful Evol, despite his good intentions and his attitudes towards justice. But to MC, he will always Gavin, despite seeming cold and unapproachable to others with this persona. He knows that she’s the one who knows the softer side of him, as the one who he feels is worthy of explaining himself to.

Gavin: You’re the only one I care about, other people’s opinions don’t concern me. -[Go See Him, NW Uniform]

Heart-wrenching reunion after 6+ months of being deprived of each other:

MC: Ga-

Observers: No.7! Why are you still standing there!?

They continue to call out to him, but Gavin ignores them.

He is stunned, his amber eyes freeze then flash with a knowing glimmer. He looks straight at her, his eyes gently caressing her.

Gavin super softly: Don’t cry.

Me: *cries*

Bonus: Gavin's Weibo has 7 beside his name! Additionally, his number in the motorcycle race on the latest date is 7, with his bike having written "B7" and "B7..." displayed.

[markitchi]

raihan rarely got angry,he only gots angry 1-2 time a year,and its not even infront of other people

One time.he got angry bc this one particular businessmen decide that its okay to breed dragon pokemon for clothes and bags

all he did was to dismiss the meeting and shoo the businessmen away,saying that he wont do it

no one really knows how raihan express his anger,but next day his knuckles are somewhat red

leon doesnt like this

He tried to talk about it to raihan,telling him that its okay to relieve is anger by telling it to someone else,but raihan doesnt want too, that hes okay and its nothing to worry about,but leon,being a stubborn person that he is,kept pushing raihan to express his anger, raihan tries to stop leon and soothing him but leon doesnt stop.

“i dont like this”

“what?”

“i feel like youre going over the line and it makes me uncomfortable”

“wait rai-”

“ill talk to you again after i clear my head okay? see you soon leon,ill call you when ive cooled down”

and then he comes up to leon,kisses his forehead,gave him a bitter smile and then he walks away, exitting leons office

the second time raihan got angry is because of leon

and leon is terrified

leon is worried that raihan will not talk to him for a long period of time,,since he cross raihans boundaries,even if theyre lovers,they still need to respect each others private space

the next day,leon cant do his work the way he usually does,his mind is occupied with negative thoughts

its lunch time,leon sat there,hoping raihan will come bringing him lunch like he usually does,but raihan didnt.theres nothing, no text,no calls,no dumb selfies,no random heart and kissy face emojis

leon felt...somewhat empty

evening comes,its time for him to pack up and go home from the tower,and theres no raihan,waiting for him to pick him up and fly with him home

leon decides to just hop on charizard and fly home,alone

when he arrives,he showered,and sat on the edge of his bed,dwelling with his thoughts

should he text raihan?

should he at least sent a voice message that he is sorry? that he wont do this again?

he stares on his phone,debating with his own thoughts,until his phone buzzed continuously

its raihan

raihan is calling him 

“hey le-”

“raihan,im so sorry ive crossed your boundaries” leon blurts out

his cheek feels wet

is he crying? it doesnt matter

“i was wrong by pressing you to express your anger,you have your own way and i have my own way, i- i shouldve understand that,im sorry that i didnt understand you well,i shouldve pay attention to you more- but i was worried! your knuckles are red, and i assume you express your anger by hurting yourself and i dont like that,i dont want you to get hurt-”

“leon”

“-because i care about you raihan,and-”

“dandelion,prince,babyboo”

“and- yes..?”

“first,i forgive you,i understand why you kept pressing me,so dont worry bub,about the way i express my anger..well,you do notice its hard for me to get angry,correct?”

“..yes”

“now,let me explain why my knuckles are red,im a dragon tamer,who also breeds,to increase the dragon population so that itll balance out the ecosystem, then i met a businessman who ask me to breed rare dragons, for purses and useless items,of course id be furious”

leon hums in agreement

“now you know why i express my anger quite, violently,but dont worry,it rarely happens”

“..oh”

“again love,its really hard for me to get angry,and even if seeing your smile already soothe all my negative emotions,thats why i put your smile as my lock screen”

leon smiles

“let me repeat this,i forgive you,so dont worry baby,i love you okay?”

“okay”

“now,can i come to your place? im pretty sure you miss me,i miss you too,shouldnt leave you for more than 8 hours’

“please”

raihan chuckles,end the call,and fly his way to wyndon.

he arrives on leons apartment balcony,only to be greeted by violently crying purple haired meat cake,raihan smiles,then proceed to shut the other man with a kiss,he picks leon up,carrying him inside while peppering him with kisses.

then they fuck

[levinneheart]

❝ hi, i hope you don’t mind that i’m a newer follower, but if its not too much trouble, id like a haikyuu male matchup please!! my name is joyce :) im a leo sun, taurus moon, sag rising, ISTP-T, use she/her prns, and straight. my voice is pretty quiet and i’m just a quiet person overall when i’m around new people. i don’t really show my emotions well and i have pretty bad RBF so i usually come off as hard to approach accidentally which sucks when i want to make friends but also works sometimes bc i also have social anxiety. my self esteem goes from *i am the sexiest mf to walk this earth* to *im ugly and deserve nothing* with no in between.

my love language is anything tbh but especially gift giving and physical touch, even though i’m terrified of initiating it. quality time is also nice since i’m completely down to just sit in comfortable silence with them, spending time together. while i love big gestures sometimes, my way of showing affection is more lowkey like baking them stuff, tutoring if they want, attending games/practices, and always waiting for them to finish at the gym

in an SO, the most important thing is that they need to understand sometimes i just need time to myself. i’m not mad at them at all but i tend to isolate myself whenever my mental health deteriorates and i sometimes go a few days without contacting people simply bc i don’t have the energy to do so. whenever it does deteriorate, it’s usually because i just feel really down out of nowhere and it lasts 12 hours to a week.

i don’t really work well with clingy people. i feel like i’d be okay if my SO focused on volleyball a lot bc i respect that they need time to work on their own things, so i wouldn’t say that i need lots of attention in relationships. i also spend more time on studies (future med student *fingers crossed*) than extracurriculars.

an ideal date to me is either going to an amusement park or the mall. i LIVE for the adrenaline roller coasters give me and i just think everything about it is super fun. malls are also nice bc i love shopping haha. nights in are cool too bc it means skin care and movie marathons :)

my favorite relationship dynamic is light hearted bullying. making fun of people and getting made fun of (with love ofc) is definitely a love language, and i’m not taking criticism <3 but i still want to be able to talk to them about serious stuff so knowing that i can wholeheartedly trust them is big for me

other facts:

i have a huge caffeine addiction bc i’m usually sleep deprived (monster energy, coffee, whatever)

i also just love coffee in general (the aesthetic, the smell, everything is *chefs kiss*)

i’m more of a cat person but i still think dogs are so cool

my relationship w my parents SUCK so bad

i’m 90% book smart (my one flex is being good at math) and 10% common sense

Big Anxiety bc the only way i could get approval from my parents growing up was straight As and now my biggest fear is being unsuccessful 😎

i love wearing my SO’s clothing and all of a sudden, their closet is now ~Our Closet~

if you don’t mind, i’d prefer the request be kept private bc of the picture :) i’m 5’2” and on the thinner side from a pretty long struggle against EDs

thank you so much for doing this!! i appreciate all the time you put into writing, to make people smile, and i look forward to anything you come up with!! ❞ — requested by @sushijimawakatoshi

dw, I don’t mind if you’re a newer follower :)

I would match you with Suna! He’s notices little things about you that others don’t, he likes to tease you but understands and respects your boundaries :)

[lorentibbs-blog]

Manic Depressive

Manic Depressive.

Every morning he makes me a cup of tea.

Once he even delivered a Harry Spesh- one-part espresso, one- part hot water and one- part steamed milk, to me in the shower. I wondered whether Espresso Cartel could offer this service during alert level 3 in the current pandemic.

“I do not want a relationship”. He looked at me with eyes verging on panic. Our conversation before that had also put me on edge. I had introduced myself and he said ‘I know who you are. We are friends on Facebook’. It had made me feel uncomfortable to have been connected on social media with someone who I did not recognize in real life. He had even come to my flat to collect a costume from my flatmate before the party we were at and I did not recognize him then or now.

 A party on top of a mountain. Well because my life had become rather progressive and trendy from the outside looking in. My flatmates had introduced me into a world of polyamory, sophisticated and successful people who cared about the environment, radical self-acceptance ( I only understood it as a concept at this point), and drug use that took me to places I’d never imagined. Inside however, I was in absolute turmoil. I was very unwell and did not know how sick I was at that point.

We had laughed as he explained that we had matched on Tinder and I had insisted on communicating on Facebook. We had arranged to meet at Toad Hall for coffee but 10 minutes beforehand I had decided it was all too much for me. When I looked back on that conversation, Sebastian had responded eloquently to my crazed blow off message and even said that he had had a lovely morning at the market instead. He has this way of understanding and making you feel human for your flaws rather than an insane nut job. The jury is still out for me on that one

The party itself was too much for me. I had climbed a mountain on LSD with two amazing wahine and then stepped into the lodge which was full of equally astounding people. I was terrified. I made my way to a bunk and clung on to my safety duo, Clara, and Tess. We went through the motions, the costumes, dinner (more vegan options than not), excruciating anxiety, the drugs, the fashion show, and the sex pile. The fashion show had ended with my flatmate Ngairi, whose birthday it was, atop a human pyramid. I dropped some MDMA like most of the party goers had. I had hoped this would curb my anxiety and fatigue. It helped but I did find myself going back and forth between the main room and my bunk all night. At one stage I had been led onto another bunk by my other flatmate Ryan, who was Ngairi’s partner. They are polyamorous you see, and he had asked me if I had wanted to hook up.

I always feel so good the next day after MDMA. I should probably explore why this is. I guess when I am on the drug, I have all these revelations and then the next morning potentially I feel lighter?

So, after 12 hours of stepping into the lodge I was finally ready to introduce myself to someone. 

Sebastian was by himself pretending to look busy with a broom. I enthusiastically (probably the most energetic and social I had felt the whole time) introduced myself and the conversation flowed around depression, anxiety, and Sebastian’s house build. I had suggested that we go for coffee at Toad Hall like we had initially planned to 2 years before. This is where I was taken back with his response of “I don’t want a relationship” it was like he had seen my brain ticking off all the characteristics I was valuing as we spoke. “sensitive, understanding of depression, attractive, a Colgate worthy smile, built his own house, older than me, mutual friends and blue eyes that saw right through me”. Later I would tease him about his panicked response as if I were ‘just’ asking him to go for coffee

Getting to know Sebastian has been a remarkably interesting journey since then and has been the catalyst for much introspection.

As I walked down the mountain that afternoon, I did a lot of self-reflection. I was thankful that one of our trio had left us early and I was left just walking down with Clara Keel. I found it so easy to talk to Clara. I think she found it easy to talk to me too. Even in a manic-depressive episode I was able to make beautiful connections with admirable people. Her girlfriend suffered from major depression and anxiety and was on Venlafaxine. It was very enlightening to hear from Clara as a partner with someone with depression. Clara invited me to go snowboarding with her and her friends over the winter and we promised to see each other very soon. I did not see her again for a long time. Turns out she is outrageously hard to pin down. I am stoked about that though because Clara keeps herself busy with a lot of incredible environmental and political work. We stopped and chatted to various people from the party down the mountain. Our ride Mikey Clementine was running down the mountain and said he was happy to wait for us at the carpark.  We caught up with Sebastian and a crew he was walking with. We walked down with him and I was very aware of him positionally to me. I did not really talk too much. Id taken a mushroom and weed coconut concoction that my ex had made me and I was vibing with the trees and my surroundings. I was very appreciative of the conversation Sebastian and Clara were having and was happy just witnessing it

On the ride back, my mushroom trip was really kicking in. Mikey blew my mind when he described his interest in the dominant and submissive scene. He made a point I have never forgotten and in that moment a switch flicked in my head. He explained that with every sexual session all participants would sit down before hand and have a discussion around their expectations, wants, limits, and fetishes. If either party felt uncomfortable or did not feel like their sexual style matched, then nothing would go ahead. I felt like these conversations should be happening around any kind of sex. It would save so much miscommunication and boundaries being crossed. In the history of my sexual life these conversations were really lacking and had there been space for them that may have saved a lot of suffering. Interesting that this style of sex is viewed in quite a dark and risky light by most but could potentially be the safest kind in terms of discussion, boundaries and consent. Purely because a discussion is expected and is compulsory beforehand.

Ngairi was absolutely filled with joy after her birthday party. We chatted in the kitchen and she was fizzing about the weekend’s events. I began to tell her the story about Sam and I and our failed tinder meet up. She paused me mid-way through and vomited rainbows and unicorns over her experience of Sebastian that weekend. She described their rendezvous in the pile of costumed MDMA cuddle puddle participants. Ngairi was on top of Sebastian in the cuddle puddle.  “Ryan bounced up to me in his bunny costume and I was so happy to see him” she described their embrace as she disclosed into Ryan’s ear “Sebastian has a boner!”. Ryan and Ngairi both giggled and shared a cheeky grin as he bounced away. Sebastian was fingering Ngairi the whole time the interaction took place. As it turned out, Ngairi and Sebastian had fooled around in the cuddle puddle and had intercourse before Ngairi returned to her bunk with Ryan. Later Sebastian would tell me he thought I had known that him and Ngairi had slept together the night before when I asked him if he wanted to go for a coffee. ‘yeah I thought you knew and were still asking me out. I thought wow this polyamory thing is real eye-opening stuff

Ryan in turn had hooked up with a large percentage of the party, me included. When Ryan and I had hooked up I was taken back when he stopped our encounter and told me he was going back to the party. It was interesting to initially feel rejected he did not want to take things further like I thought we were going to. I am thankful for the experience of having someone stop me in my tracks sexually. Anyone can stop any sexual encounter at any time. I guess I was just flabbergasted momentarily as I have never had any male stop me before. I stayed in the bunk and rested after this. Ryan came back to check if I was okay. I was so exhausted, and my brain was very fuzzy at this stage.

I will not deny that I was disappointed when Ngairi had told me about her encounter with Sebastian. In fact, I will go as far as to say I thought “fuck you Ngairi, you have the best boyfriend can’t you be happy with that”. I reflected on this thought process and by the end of the week I was disappointed in myself for thinking this way.

Ngairi Newton chose to live her life this way. She was in a committed polyamorous relationship with Ryan Mcgregor This relationship allowed her to explore any other relationship in any way she liked and vice versa. I had found her perspective on relationships so exciting initially.  Polyamory was a new concept for me, and I had found myself in the household of the most exceptional and liberating relationship id ever heard of.

So how did I find myself in the position I was in? Unemployed, depressed, anxiety ridden and barely coping, living with two of the most inspirational and functional people I have ever met?

I was living with Ngairi and Ryan for the second time. The first time was only a three week stay while I was in between places. I am always in between places as you will find out. I am in between places right now as we speak. And will be 5 times over by the time this story is done.

Emilie my flatmate at the time had invited me to a Halloween party. Emilie was a very bizarre and unnerving woman but one that was difficult to say no to. I remember feeling instantly connected to her when I first viewed the room. We engaged in deep conversation incredibly early on, I mean I do not believe I was there longer than half an hour. We both identified our fathers as the cause of all the turmoil in our lives.  She did not hear me when I first knocked on the door even though I was bang-on on time (sat outside in the car for 20 minutes because I was early). She was on her kitchen floor pulling all the contents out of the cupboard. Her current flatmate had told her about a book that was about de cluttering your life (literally). She had just flown back from a disastrous 3-month trip in France and was experiencing some severe jet lag. She had just cleaned out her wardrobe and I left in a state of glee with all the gorgeous garments this exciting woman no longer wanted. Two weeks into moving in with Emilie I knew I had made a mistake. We found ourselves in a very messy situation in the end that was further complicated by my close friends taking the room I was not quite ready to give up.

 I had realized that I could not live with her. She had taken it to heart when I told her this and somehow my telling her I was thinking about looking for a new room turned into me giving her two weeks’ notice. I guess there may have been a miscommunication. Little did I know how scarce accommodation in Nelson was at this point.  Anyway, through all of this we managed to stay civil and she invited me, like the Gemini she is, to a party the weekend before I was to move out.  We found it difficult to find the party and when we did it was really humming. Turned out to be a party of a woman who I had met before. Again, on the path to finding the right accommodation.  Chrissie and I had met at Claudia’s house. Claudia owned a house I had fallen in love with, the room available was Christie’s room. I did not get the room. This party was a housewarming for Chrissie’s new place. I had enquired about this place as well.  Chrissie had told me over text that she was looking for a new house because she wanted to take drugs over the summer and have more of a party living environment. She then said that she thought it would not really suit me as at that point I had intense social anxiety. Since then I have befriended several people in a circle of friends that Chrissie and I now share. We have encountered each other a few times. Each of those times I have been unwell. She is beautiful, funny, Canadian and she is an engineer. Its hard not to be starstruck by her. I imagine Chrissie and I would get on like a house on fire if I were at my best when I ran into her, I always seem to be unwell though. Emilie is gone within moments of us entering the sea of costumed people. I make a bee line to the table of snacks. And I start munching on chips and dip as if my life depended on it. I am not sure how it happened but I found myself in a conversation with a woman in an amazing shiny pants suit, the blazer atop a sequined bikini top, her face was painted in a Mexican skull design and she had a platinum blonde bob. What a bad bitch. (id never actually say that in real life. Real hero behind a keyboard type stuff)

When Mel, a fellow volunteer from the Wellness Movement, suggested asking her if she would rent out her spare room, I was not picturing Ngairi as the woman in from of me.

I had imagined a 40 + year old slightly chubby Maori woman with a couple of cats. As it turned out Ngairi only had one cat named Espresso. I am fairly sure Espresso wouldn’t have had me if she had had a choice in the matter. Fair enough too as it turns out.

[clumsyidiot]

Social Anxiety? or something else???

So, I’ve been reading about social anxiety and also reading posts on here made by people with social anxiety and I have been analyzing my own actions.

I’m not sure if they [my therapist and psychiatrist] ever actually diagnosed me, though they did throw the term ‘social anxiety’ around.

I think what I experience is slightly different, but can appear to be social anxiety.

Growing up, I was terrified to speak because that meant getting yelled at or lectured. “Kids are to be seen, not heard” kind of thing, “You’re feelings don’t matter because mine are the only ones that do” kind of thing, “You’re not allowed to feel anything but happiness” kind of thing, “If you voice anything but what I want to hear, you will be shamed and threatened severely” kind of thing.

Because of this, I went inward and would daydream my day away. I learned to just do whatever others wanted, despite what my feelings tell me. I stopped talking to other people because I thought everyone would do the same he did. 

An anxiety grew within me. A crippling fear of confrontation grew within me. It’s easier to get by if you just nod and agree with everyone. Because of this, I never really thought about what I wanted, what I believe, my personal goals, even my opinion on pop culture and other relatively irrelevant things.

However, I find that I don’t have any issue talking to other people. I don’t have the internal dialogue many people with social anxiety do. The only time anxiety becomes an issue is if I have to confront someone with something. 

Asking for something from my bosses, telling customers we don’t have what they are looking for or that something is against policy, IDing couples or really anyone who wants to buy alcohol, cigarettes, or any other age restricted product, saying no when I don’t want sexual acts (from my ex, a different story for another time, perhaps), doing anything that is outside of my normal.

I have no issues talking on the phone, wearing my favorite clothes out in public (despite my style not being stereotypically feminine), saying hello or engaging in small talk with coworkers and sometimes even strangers (some strangers just give you that vibe, ya know), and am actually pretty impulsive in my speech and will say whatever crosses my mind, in many cases.

My anxiety comes when I have to set a boundary, when I have to take a stand, when I have to ask something of another person that could be seen as unpleasurable, sometimes when I have to ask for help.

These things cause me anxiety because even to this day I fear they will react how my dad did, and working in customer service doesn’t exactly help. I’m not a customer service representative, but I do work retail and I used to be a cashier and I had frequent panic attacks and actually did several things that were against policy because I was more afraid of the customer than I was of losing my job, of course when I would go home I would have panic attacks about whether or not I would lose my job. (and just to be clear, when I say panic attacks I mean crying, loss of breath, racing thoughts, migraine, pacing, rocking, and suicidal ideation)

I don’t know if this is still a form of social anxiety. Perhaps it’s mild social anxiety since it doesn’t affect me in most of the ways it does others, maybe it’s some other kind of anxiety, like trauma related anxiety or something. 

I’m hoping to change therapists and I would like to bring this up with whoever they assign me. If anyone has any information, I would greatly appreciate it. 

[m4dsth3ha773r]

9/26/2021-- pressures to conform with gender, transphobia, and my stepmom sucks ass.

My parents got divorced when I was six. That’s the first thing you need to know. Ever since I was a six Ive been on a two-two-three schedule between my parents. I see both of them everyday except for Saturday, but the linguistics of how that is would probably be too much for me to explain on tumblr. Anyway. As I was saying, ever since I was six ive been on a two-two-three schedule between my dads and my moms house’s. Neither of them ever forced me to be something I wasn't or act a certain way, of course they encouraged things like manners and being respectful but they never made me wear the clothes that would be “normal” or “ordinary” for my assigned at birth gender to wear. For example, pulling this from the book Symptoms Of Being Human by Jeff Garvin, they never made me choose between the blue power ranger or the bratz doll. They just let me get which ever one I liked and they accepted the choice I made. I never thought about what would be “acceptable” I just thought about what I liked. That is, until my stepmom came around. I used to wear the same pair of shoes every day. I wore the same pair for three years and when I grew out of them id just get the same pair in a bigger size, and my parents let me and didn’t care. Then, my stepmom started buying shoes. It was always the same type of shoe, they always looked pretty much the exact same with different colors, brand names, and embellishments. And all of them, without fail, made me feel like I was going to puke when I wore them. They made me feel wrong. She pushed the idea of conforming with the gender I was assigned at birth, and she still does. Like, “Don’t you want something more ****** like *sibling*?” and stuff like that, pressuring me to be what I wasn't and starting to think I made the wrong decision with the clothes I wore and things I liked. Because of that I developed the fear of being myself to my parents and her, to the point where for her wedding to my dad I let her force me to cross a serious boundary of mine, because I didn’t think I had a choice, and If I said anything she would make me do it anyway and say I was being “selfish” for essentially not conforming with my assigned gender at birth in a way that was crossing a serious boundary. Another thing about her is shes transphobic. She’s not outwardly transphobic enough to admit to herself she is transphobic, but shes still transphobic. Theres a boy who goes to my siblings school and we’ve known who he is since my siblings we’re little. However, he is afab. Whenever he’s brought up in conversation, she continues to use she/her pronouns and his dead name as if its okay, like just because he’s not there its ok to misgender him. Which it isnt. It isnt hard to respect someones pronouns at all, you just have to try. She has also said right infront of me she’s glad she doesnt gave a kid “like that”, as if being trans is some terrifying illness. For the record, I’m not out to my family yet. But its so fucking annoying, and she’s so clearly a terf. 

[jessicadanforth]

10:15am. Tuesday, April 17th: As some scrambled to submit their tax returns, and others recovered from the 26.2 mile run up Heartbreak Hill in Boston, I was going under general anesthesia, yet again. For my 13th surgery.

Sometimes I think about how I will explain these past unemployed years to a potential employer. I wish that bravery and resilience were as valued as sales numbers and masters’ degrees, that employers cared that Jess Danforth, who was once terrified of everything medical, can now put in and take out her own IV.

I wonder if people are born with different amounts of courage - variable reserves that are determined genetically, like eye color. Or maybe courage aggregates over time. Possibly we just become resilient or numb. I don't know.

My thirteenth trip to the OR was a completely unexpected, worst-case-scenario surgery. After multiple surgical attempts to stitch and bandage my radiated skin into wholeness, the skin lacked all blood supply and would not heal. After the latest removal of bandages and surgical wound vacs, my chest, once again, remained open. I risked sepsis. My situation had become an emergency.

One of the microsurgery residents arranged to meet me to review options. It was a Sunday night at 9pm and she had two little ones at home. She threw on clothes and opened up Mt. Zion at UCSF Medical Center. Drafting anatomical renderings in purple pen, she went through each of the four plausible surgical options and the reason why, despite surgeons rarely performing one particular surgery, I really only had one option. 

Her iPhone continued to vibrate as text after text came in. “They are all about you,” she said. My oncologist and surgeons. Plastic Surgery, Microsurgery. The chief, fellows, residents. They scheduled the operating room for the next morning. My lead surgeon recused himself; he was too emotionally invested in my case.

I no longer have to show an ID or tell them who I am when I check-in for surgery. I just show up on the third floor of the Helen Diller Cancer Center. It has become my office in a way, and the surgeons and doctors and nurses and anesthesiologists, my co-workers.

There is a part of me that usually feels "safe" in the hospital. I feel like I am being taken care of and constantly distracted / surrounded by people. I feel like my time there is purposeful. A simple sense of security that comes with surgical scrubs and latex free environments and IV antibiotics that fades once you cross through the revolving doors, spit back into the real world. 

The pre-op markings from my twelfth surgery were still visible on my chest, the bruises still present and the veins on my left hand still healing. This time, for the first time, my eyes became teary as the team wheeled me into the OR. For some reason, I wasn’t sure that I would come out alive. Thus, maybe, the reason for my heavily drugged “I am alive” texts that I sent out in multitude the following day.

Now I am home from the hospital and remember so very little from the past few weeks. From what I have been told, I had my first ambulance ride, I started using Snapchat and took full advantage of the meerkat feature, I chose an engagement ring (I am not engaged), I continued my love affair with UCSF quesadillas, I refused to wear anything but a hospital gown, I drank latissimus lattes and I was quite certain that I was at UCLA.

Today I walked down Chestnut Street in the Marina and was struck by what people couldn’t see, which is often the case with so many things in our lives. Who would have guessed that underneath my zipped-to-the-chin Patagonia are chest tubes and drains connected to and encircling the empty confines of my back? Who would have guessed that there is a one-foot plus incision held together by hundreds of stitches?

It reminds me of when strangers say, “You are so good with kids! Why don’t you have your own?” and I have no idea if I should tell them the truth or just brush it off with some witty comment to maintain the normalcy. How my heart sinks when people rant about how inconsiderate it is when people don’t breastfeed their kids.

Life happens to each of us. It scars us. It hurts us. It changes us. Some of us more so than others. Some of us in a more obvious manner than others. Imagine if all that is invisible suddenly became visible and our vulnerabilities, our tribulations and struggles were all displayed for the world to see? What if we all wore name tags that displayed break-ups and heartache, disease and death, mental illness and insecurities?

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I decided to freeze my eggs. I started IVF and was in the lab getting my blood drawn. It was Halloween and as the super-exuberant phlebotomist inserted the needle into the crook of my timid arm, he said, “What fun plans do you have this weekend?”

I could have just said, “not much!” or brushed it off with an array of other socially appropriate responses but I said, “Not much. I was just diagnosed with cancer.” It must have made him feel terrible and, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have been so blunt but - cancer or not -  I don’t think that many women going through a round of IVF have many fun weekend plans aside from stomach injections and raging hormones.

Suffering is inherent to being human. We go through our lives avoiding it at all costs but it’s a universality. Skills that our particular society deems instrumental are taught at a young age. We learn how to read and write. We learn to quantify the boundaries that divide us and operate within it’s confines. However, we don’t learn how to heal after experiencing death. We don’t learn how to interact with someone who has been diagnosed with a harrowing medical condition. We don’t learn how to be brave. 

But, as Cleo Wade says, “We are more resilient than we could ever imagine. Keep going.”

[takadasaiko]

Fallen Series: Out of Town

FFN II AO3

Summary: Bobo takes his first plane flight out of the Ghost River Triangle. Post-curse.

Notes: So, I've been in NYC the last few days and while there I was chatting with Kimmins and SetMeAtopThePyre about how interesting it would be after the curse was broken and Bobo could actually leave the Triangle to send him to some place like that... how would he handle all of that and such. Finally got a chance to write it on the plane home last night.

Out of Town

Wynonna hadn't known what to expect. She hadn't been worried about Doc. Doc had rolled with nearly every culture shock that he'd been dealt since the day that he'd come crawling up from that well. From everything she heard he'd made the trip with only one mishap - in the form of trying leaving his knife in his bag, but Wynonna had warned Dolls to make sure he didn't have that or, possibly worse, his guns when they left out - but there was something about the thought of Bobo Del Rey in an airport, handing over a photo ID, going through security, and getting on a plane that made her think that maybe she should be prepared for the worst.

The fact that it all had to be thrown together last second hadn't helped.

In the wake of Bulshar's defeat and the curse breaking a new division of Black Badge had reached out to Dolls. Things had escaped the Ghost River Triangle. Big and bad things, and the division was holding him and his "team" - seriously, what did these people think they were? - responsible for it. Dolls had flown out to meet with them twice before, but now they were determined that everyone needed to come out. When Dolls had tried to get them out of it he'd been told they were welcome to book their trip on their own or they'd be welcoming an escort into Purgatory. They were coming, like it or not.

They hadn't known the details about Bobo at first. Oh, they knew about him, of course. He had been the leader of the Revenants, there was no staying off their radar with that, but they hadn't realized he'd worked his angle against Bulshar to take him down, nor that he eventually sided fully with what Jeremy had started calling "Team Earp" and had fought alongside the rest of them to bring the demon down and keep him there.

The moment Black Badge had found out there was suddenly a request for Mr Del Rey to accompany them… you know, now that he could and what not.

He'd been surprisingly chill about the whole thing, shrugging and saying that they needed to get a feel for this new Black Badge and if they were a threat or not. That had been the first thing to set Wynonna on edge, but she'd agreed that he shouldn't fly alone, and they hadn't been able to get a ticket out of the Big City with the rest of them, so she had changed hers to the following day. It wasn't like she could really shuffle him off on Waverly to deal with anyway. She didn't have any more experience than the one hundred plus - year - old Revenant that had been stuck within the same boundaries for the last ninety of those years.

Wynonna had been skeptical when Bobo had said he had an ID, but he'd produced a driver's license still within a valid date. She tried to picture him willingly waltzing into the sheriff's office that doubled as Purgatory's DMV, filling out paperwork and letting them snap a photo of him. The longer she studied it, though, the more she thought that he'd probably terrified the poor sap that had taken the photo with the way that icy blue glare of his cut through. Funny, his hair was still dark in in the photo, and a quick glance to the date showed that he must have had it made before his attempted escape with Willa that had resulted in his trip down to hell and everything that had happened after. The dark hair was such a contrast with the platinum blond strip that remained as a reminder of what Bulshar had done with and to him. She'd never heard the full story of exactly what had happened in that mine, but she knew that he'd had to fight the demon's influence until the day that Peacemaker's bullet had struck Bulshar between the eyes.

Bobo hadn't tried to bring a knife with him like Doc had, but he had come too damn close to throwing a fit at security for Wynonna's liking. He'd refused to hand them his coat or his boots. The former Revenant leader had looked almost insulted when they had told him to load it into the tray and Wynonna had thought they were going to arrest him for a minute with the way he'd stood there snarling at the poor soul that had dared to ask him to follow the same protocol everyone else was. The Earp Heir had already crossed through by that point and there had been nothing to be done but watch and hope that she didn't have to call Nedley to see if he had any pull with law enforcement in the Big City.

They'd made it through though and he had looked like he might never part with that damn coat as soon as he got it back. Yet another story Wynonna still hadn't gotten. Maybe she should have made a list for the trip.

If she had expected him to talk during the flight, though, she was mistaken. He had seemed perfectly fine with the idea of hopping a plane to the Black Badge offices in New York City when it had come up, but as they got closer and closer Wynonna had watched the subtle changes. Those sharp eyes of his had watched through the massive windows as planes took off and landed outside. He'd been quiet. That wasn't abnormal, per se, and he was answering easily enough when Wynonna asked him something he cared about and brushing her off if the question was something he didn't like, but once they were actually on the plane she couldn't help but notice that he'd gone a little paler than usual and that once they were seated that he took as subtle of a death grip on the armrest as he could manage.

"You nervous?"

"No."

"Going to tear the arm off the chair?"

That had gotten her a glare and a low growl that had left his throat on a breath as he forced his fingers to uncurl, his teeth clicking together audibly as he did. Wynonna had muttered an apology and had left him alone after that. She still wasn't sure exactly what the curse breaking had left him with, and she had no interest in finding out what a nervous Bobo Del Rey could do to a giant flying hunk of metal in the sky - possibly without even meaning to - if he still had his telekinesis.

There'd been turbulence. Of course there had. He'd gone from ghostly pale to a little green with that and had slumped deeply into his seat, long legs pressed against the back of the seat in front of him, and had just curled up in his coat with his eyes closed the rest of the way.

He had given a soft grunt when they landed, finally releasing his new hold on the arm rest that Wynonna hadn't noticed until then and had waited in silence until she nudged him to follow the others off the plane and she had no idea how she was going to get him on the return flight back. Maybe this was the moment that Bobo left Purgatory for good. She'd thought he would after the dust settled, but he just never had. Not permanently at least.

They caught a cab into the city and she wasn't sure how much he heard about what the plan was. Dolls and Jeremy were meeting with Black Badge officials all day while Waverly, Nicole, and Doc would meet them at the hotel. He nodded at all the right times, but his gaze remained fixed out the window as if he were staring at the passing cityscape.

Finally, as they climbed out of the cab and into the rush of the city and his gaze swept upward with an almost haunted look to it, she'd had enough. "Hey," Wynonna called to him and popped him hard on the shoulder to gain his attention. "You gonna be okay? Did we break you?"

Bobo blinked rapidly as he turned to look at her and finally cleared his throat, uttering the first words she'd heard from him in hours now. "I've been here before."

It was her turn to stare. "Okay?"

"It was…." He cursed lowly, shaking his head and running a hand over his hair to smooth it back. "Late sixties maybe?"

Wynonna gaped a little. "Sixties? Weren't you stuck in Purgatory?"

"Eighteen."

Then it hit her. He'd been to New York before the curse. Before Wyatt. Before…. "Ah," she managed.

"It's changed. Everything….. changed."

"No shit. Kinda happens with a century between."

He snorted a short laugh, shaking his head. "Don't I know it? Used to take weeks, months in weather like this. Only so much you can read or see on a screen. It's…."

"Welcome to the twenty-first century, I guess?"

"'spose so." He squeezed his eyes shut and Wynonna stood there for a long moment and waited, not sure what to do. Hers and Bobo's relationship was a strange one, usually filled with plenty of mockery and snark, even if they had an unadmitted and begrudging respect for each other these days. But this was too weird, watching him try to process it all. He'd watched most of the development as far as she knew, but knowing that it was happening and experiencing it like this had to have been jarring. Not everyone reacted like Doc did, and she'd never seen Bobo forced into a situation like this before. They'd always been in Purgatory or the Big City. Familiar territory.

"Wynonna! You made it! Why didn't you call?"

Wynonna turned just in time to set her footing so that her sister didn't knock her over. She was supposed to call when they landed. Right. She'd been so caught up in directing a nearly catatonic Bobo Del Rey through the airport and then into a cab that she'd completely forgotten. "We got a little tied up."

"How'd you like your first plane ride, Bobo?" Waverly chirped, nearly bouncing. "Wasn't it amazing? Isn't this city amazing? The movies don't do it justice. Just look at it all!"

His expression softened a little and Wynonna could almost see him shove the emotions he'd been nearly drowning in since the airport back home down and below the surface again, finally regaining at least the appearance of control. "'course it is, Angel."

"Waverly has the whole day planned out," Doc said as he greeted Wynonna with a quick kiss to the cheek.

As if to prove the point Waverly started rattling off the list of things she'd put together for them to do, Nicole smiling at her side as she added in at a couple of places that Waverly got turned around at. Wynonna risked a look over to their newest member of their bizarre little family to see him almost smiling as he listened to her continue on. Maybe she should have had Waverly go with him.

The older Earp waited until her younger sister had finished and directed them all up to the hotel rooms to throw their stuff down before they started in on it all. "You going to be okay?"

Bobo quirked an off-coloured eyebrow at her. "Ain't the first culture shock I've gotten since the curse," he said, that even drawl of his working back into place, almost like he was bored by the conversation already.

"You think you'll make the flight back okay?"

He smirked at her. "You hopin' to get rid of me, Earp?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "And let things get boring?"

A low chuckle rumbled from him and he moved past her, bag in hand, to follow a very impatient Waverly through the revolving doors and into the hotel.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Warm Me Up Ch. 34

OH SNAP-WHAT’S THAT- A NEW CHAPTER FUCK YEAH, (To the tune of Usnavi’s excitement after getting a date with Vanessa. Can you tell I’m obsessed? Also, listen to Lady Gaga’s A Million Reasons as well as Secondhand Serenade’s Fall for You and Tori Kelly’s/ Ed Sheeran’s I Was Made For Loving You for this chapter <3)

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click Here for Ch. 33

index

It wasn’t until a little past noon that Will got worried. He hadn’t gotten a text from Nico, and when he called, Nico didn’t answer. He pulled Kayla along past the HEB and hefted a few bags in his other hand. “Come on, Princess time to go home. You sure you don’t want help with the bag?”

“I got it. I wanna give it to him.” Will smiled and nodded, walking along the sidewalk. The sun was beating down, but the wind that blew around them offered enough relief. Kayla bounded along in a pink sundress with her red hair pulled up into a ponytail, skipping over cracks in the sidewalk. Suddenly, Kayla stopped, causing Will to falter. “Look, it’s Nico!”

He frowned and looked up to see Nico pacing back and forth with a cigarette in one hand as his other ran through his hair. Immediately, Will felt the instinct to go to him and find out what was wrong. “Come on,” he told his sister, gripping her hand as they crossed at a light.

“Why is he smoking?” she asked as he pulled her along. “Isn’t that bad?” Will didn’t answer, his eyes on Nico as he paced. “Will, I’m scared,” Kayla whimpered.

“No, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured. “Just hold on a second, okay?” He reached the bus stop and reached out, stopping Nico mid-pace. He jumped, and looked up with frightened, tear-filled eyes. “What happened, Nico, what’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.

He took a few short breaths, and his eyes flickered down to Kayla. “Oh God,” he groaned, turning away to put out the cigarette. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Will turned him around and tilted his face to him. “Sorry for what? Nico, what happened?”

He pulled away and looked down, shaking his head. “Nothing. Nothing it’s stupid. I…. My dad called and… I got into an argument with him, that’s all. Really, it’s fine. I just… don’t want your parents to see me like this.”

“Okay. Okay,” he murmured, pulling him into his arms. “It’s okay. Come on, my favorite ice cream shop is just down a few blocks.”

“No, you have all these bags, I-”

“So help us. Here I take three, you take two, Kayla has hers. It’s okay. Come on, I thought you wanted to see my favorite places,” he said gently. Nico looked at him with anguished eyes. Will was worried. Terrified. But he couldn’t pull it out of him now. Not in public, not in front of Kayla, not when he was still distressed. “Come on,” he said.

He took Nico’s hand, and Kayla, with a worried expression, took his other. They walked over to Amy’s Ice Cream and sat outside with cups of ice cream. Nico was still solemn and quiet, and Will knew he was hiding something.

Kayla was busy eating her ice cream, smearing her face with chocolate. Will kept Nico’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb along the back of his hand. He kept zoning out, staring at the table, watching the ice cream melt. And Will could feel his heart in his throat.

“Love, I know… how you are when something bothers you. I know you don’t like talking about it. But I’m scared. What happened? What did you argue about with your dad that it made you get like this?”

Nico didn’t react to his words. He blinked slowly and gripped his hand. After several long seconds, he looked up with tears in his eyes on the verge of falling. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered, feeling his heart clench. Nico nodded and leaned into him, taking a deep breath. Will knew he wouldn’t explain. All he could do was be there for him. Hold him. And wait until he was ready to talk.

Suddenly Will’s phone rang and he saw his Mom’s picture on the caller ID. “Hey,” he answered.

“Will, have you heard from Nico?” she asked, sounding breathless and angry.

“U-uh, yeah. Yeah he’s here with me, we’re at Amy’s.”

“Oh thank God,” she breathed.

“Yeah, he’s okay, just some personal family stuff. It’s okay.”

“Family stuff?” she asked.

“He hasn’t explained really. He just didn’t want to worry you guys.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. He heard her sigh and when she spoke, her voice was tight. “Honey, please come home when you’re done at Amy’s okay? All three of you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he answered. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” she said softly before hanging up. Nico was looking at him uncertainly and he pushed the hair out of his face. “It’s okay. She wanted to be sure you’re okay and wants us home after we finish our ice cream.” His only response was to look away. Will cleared his throat and leaned over to wipe Kayla’s mouth. “Princess, why don’t you give Nico what we bought him?”

She perked up and checked the bag she had. She went over to Nico with her hands behind her back. “Close your eyes,” she said with a smile. Nico did, and she grabbed his hand and placed a small stuffed monkey and a card.

He opened his eyes and looked at the monkey and the card in confusion. He opened the card and smiled as fun music played and a pop up chihuahua teetered back and forth. “Thank you? For what?”

“Well, I was gonna write in it at home. But it’s thank you for making Will happy. He’s my big brother and I love him, and you make him happy so-”

Suddenly Nico pulled Kayla into a hug and his shoulders were shaking. Kayla’s eyes went wide and she looked at Will in confusion. When Nico pulled away, he had tears streaming down his face. He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. He looked at his new monkey and chuckled. “Thank you, Monkey,” he said, tapping the monkey’s face onto her cheek.

She giggled and sat down, trying to hide her smile. Nico looked at Will and leaned over to kiss him. His lips were salty and wet with tears, with Will didn’t care. He was just thankful that he was reacting. He sat back and sighed, wiping his tears away.

“Everyone done with their ice cream?” Will asked, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment at the display of affection. Kayla nodded, and Nico pushed his tub of melted ice cream away. “Come on, time to go home.”

The walk back home was a little less intense with the sun having gone down a bit. The streets sloped, causing a little more exertion, and Nico’s hand in Will’s was tense. Again, Will wondered if Nico would decide to talk to him about it or not.

As they got to the house, Nico pulled away. “I’m going to stay out here for a bit, okay? Just need a minute.” Will hesitated and Nico leaned forward kissing him lightly. “I won’t go anywhere. I promise.” He nodded and turned away, taking Kayla’s hand. Nico leaned against his mother’s car and looked at the stuffed monkey in his hands.

When Will walked into the house, he was surprised to see his parents at the table. His mom looked stressed, his father looked tired.

“Kayla, honey, go put the supplies in my room. Then go over to Lou Ellen’s house, she said she wanted to make cookies,” his mom said.

“Oh okay!” She raced to her room and was out the door again to go to the neighbor’s within three minutes.

“Where’s Nico?” Mom asked nervously.

“He’s right outside, he… what’s going on?”

She looked pointedly at his father who sighed and rubbed his forehead. “We may have-” His mother cleared her throat and he clenched his teeth. “I may have… upset Nico earlier.”

Will furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

He took a breath and interlocked his hands. “I wanted to talk to him. About his relationship with you.” Will scoffed and crossed his arms. “And… I may have overstepped my boundaries…. Until he had to leave the house.”

Will’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. “You did what?” he exclaimed. “What did you say to him? I found him on the verge of a breakdown at a bus stop! That was because of you? What the hell?”

“Watch it, Will,” his father warned. “Look, I remember how you got when you came for Winter break, and how upset you were. He hurt you-”

“No! Stop, that has nothing to do with our relationship now!” he shouted.

“You’d better watch that tone, young man!” he shouted back.

“Oh enough!” his mother snapped. They turned to her in surprise. “Now you both listen to me! You!” She stood and pointed at his father. “You cornered that boy, and you threw things in his face without even letting him explain! You don’t get to be upset at the things he said to you after what you told him!”

“Things he said, what did Nico-”

“Ah-ah-ah!” she said, wagging her finger at him. “It is my turn to talk. You,” she said with a stern look on her face. “You lied to me about the break up. I don’t know if you will ever tell us why or how it happened, but something tells me there’s a reason you didn’t tell us.” She raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath. “Now… Will, you need to explain some things. Your father said something about… Nico getting drunk, and cheating on you? What the hell? Why didn’t-”

“What! He nev-”

She cut him off with a glare and he stopped talking. Then she continued. “Now, Nico admitted to the drinking. He also said he’s been sober for four months. Do you… have anything to say about all of this?”

Will covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did that to him,” he whispered. “Yes. Yes, okay! He used to drink a lot…. I… he used to flirt and go out a lot. But he doesn’t anymore, okay? Weekends, even before we started dating again, they’ve just been us sitting on his couch watching movies and binging TV shows! He stopped drinking, he’s going to therapy! I fell in love with him when he had those drinking problems and couldn’t manage his depression, and he decided on his own to change those things. And now I love him even more, you- you had no right to say those things to him! That’s why he broke up with me the first time! He thought he wasn’t good enough for me, he thought he was a burden, so he told me he didn’t like me and broke up with me! I was miserable!”

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “He has been trying so hard. You had no right to try and screw that up for him. When I found him…. He was devastated, okay? And he didn’t even tell me any of this! He told me he’d argued with his dad!” His parents looked at each other in shock. “I asked you guys to help him feel welcome. But he was right. You’d only make him feel like he’s not good enough.”

He turned away, but then his mother called after him. “Where are you going?”

“To make sure my boyfriend isn’t dealing with a depressive low because of him,” he spat, walking out the door. He walked over to the truck where Nico was leaning against the car, mumbling under his breath, his eyes closed. “Hey,” he murmured.

Nico looked up and gave him a tense smile. “They told you.”

He sighed and pulled him into his arms. “When were you going to?”

Nico shut his eyes and leaned into him, hiding his face into his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“For what? This wasn’t your fault. My dad… this was on him.”

“I called him an asshole. Among other things, but… I can’t remember. I was so angry. I fucked up, Will.” Will held him tighter and sighed. “You know he’s right. I’m not-”

Before he would finish, Will pulled away and cupped his face. “No. Don’t you start saying that, Nicolas.” Nico froze and stared at him. “You are more than enough. You are more than worth it. I love you, okay? I have for a long time. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks, they don’t know you like I do.”

He shut his eyes and sighed. “He said… you take care of me. I don’t do anything for you. You’re the one… dealing with my depression, and dealing with my lows, making sure I sleep and wake up and eat and-”

“What do you mean you don’t do anything for me?” he asked incredulously. “Nico… you gave up partying and drinking and flirting for me. You started going to therapy. Yes, partially for you, but… you made that choice on your own.” His hand shook as he caressed Nico’s cheek. His voice was soft as he spoke. “You gave me space when I asked for it. You were my friend when I needed it,” his voice broke and Nico tears spilled over again. Will hated seeing him so hurt. “You went to my ceremony when you could barely get out of bed that day. Baby, you came home with me even though it scared the shit out of you. And you didn’t even tell me what my dad did. You covered for him.” He shut his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. He hadn’t realized there were tears in his eyes until they fell down his cheeks.

“You are not the only one with problems,” he insisted. “You have depression. I’m insecure. You used to be an alcoholic. I used to self-harm. We both have things in our past…. But that’s not who we are anymore. You bring me up, I bring you up.”

“You’re too good for me,” he moaned. He pulled Will into a kiss, holding him close, like he was afraid Will would be snatched away from him. When he broke apart, he looked afraid. “He told me he didn’t want me near his family. Will, your mom liked me at first. And Kayla- God I love her so much.” He kissed him again and took a deep breath. “And you. I can’t just stay away from you. I won’t let you go again. I can’t. I won’t.”

“And you’re not going to,” he said, clenching his jaw at the fact that his father said something like that. “We can go back. We can go home. We don’t need to be here.”

As Will held him and tried to make sure he knew that they wouldn’t be pulled apart, he heard his mother’s voice calling him from the front door. “Will, Nico, could you both come in here for a moment?”

He sighed and looked at Nico. “Come on. We’ll have to go in there eventually.” He took his hand and led him back into the house. The second they got into the house, Nico’s expression changed into a cold, passive one without emotion. “What?” he asked.

There was a long moment of silence before his dad took a deep breath and spoke. He kept his eyes casted downward and his eyebrows furrowed. “I… was out of line. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Nico, especially after Will asked us to be nice. It’s no excuse, but… Will is my only son. And I don’t want to see him hurt. Knowing what little I did… I wasn’t sure what to make of you. I….” He sighed and shut his eyes. “I’m just protective of him. But… after a very long discussion with Naomi… I know I have to let him learn on his own.” He cleared his throat and looked up to meet Will’s eyes. “Son, I’m sorry.”

Will nodded, but before he could speak, Nico did. “I’m sorry for yelling. And for the things I called you….” His father nodded and gave him a tense smile.

“We’re going to go ahead and go back,” Will murmured. He kept his eyes on the floor to keep from looking at the expression on his mother’s face. “I appreciate the apology, Dad, but… it doesn’t fix anything. You still said what you said and pushed Nico into an anxiety attack. So-”

“Will, maybe we should talk about this first,” Nico urged quietly. He glanced at him and frowned, but Nico’s gaze was clear and certain.

He sighed and squeezed his hand, agreeing. He led him to his room and shut the door. Nico glanced around with a smile and sat on the bed. “So this is your room,” he said with a slightly hoarse voice. “Come here,” he murmured with somber eyes. Will went over and sat beside him, but Nico pulled him down so his head rested in his lap. He began to run his hands through his hair, causing Will to sigh gently. “You should stay,” he said suddenly. Will opened his eyes. “This is your family. They should be with you on your birthday. I’m the intruder here.”

“Nico-”

“Amore, it’s okay. We can try again in a few months. We just started dating… again. Of course they’re apprehensive about me. And knowing about New Year’s?” Will winced, but before he could explain, Nico continued. “I was a bad person. Right now that’s all they know. We have to give them time to see I changed, and maybe that as to be from a distance. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want you to go back alone,” he said, reaching up to touch his face. “And you weren’t a bad person. You’ve always been good Nico. You just made mistakes.” Nico furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed, but smiled fondly at him. “I don’t want you to be alone the rest of the week.”

Nico leaned down and kissed him. “I can handle myself for a week, baby. You should stay. Kayla missed you. Your mom… you didn’t see her face when you said we were leaving. She looked heartbroken.” Will bit his lip and sighed, putting Nico’s hand to his lips.

“I’ll go tell her,” he relented.

“I’ll check tickets,” he answered. They stood and Nico disappeared into the guest bedroom while Will went to find his mom. He heard voices in the garage and went to check only to find his parents mid-argument.

“-stupid can you be to say those things, you’re a fucking psychologist for crying out- oh God. Will. Honey, I-”

“Um, Nico is finding a flight home.” Her face fell and she nodded. “I’m staying,” he clarified.

“Wait, but I apologized, why is he leaving?” his father asked.

His mother glared at him, but Will was tired. “Dad, you said the things that hurt him the most. He already felt like he shouldn’t be here, and what you told him just drove him out. And honestly, I’m still upset with you too. Don’t you trust me? Do you really think I can’t make my own choices?”

His father rubbed his face and groaned. “Dammit, Will! Maybe if you actually communicated with us instead of hiding things from us, I wouldn’t feel so nervous about this! If you’d told us when you broke up, if you’d told us when you became friends, if you’d told us when you got back together, I wouldn’t feel like he’s dangerous to you. You’ve always struggled with confidence, Will. I didn’t know if you were only defending him because he made you feel special by manipulating you or if he deserved it. We know nothing about him! You asked us to welcome a complete stranger into our home as your boyfriend, so yes, I was wary. Especially since all I know about him is that he got drunk and had you pacing outside for hours during break, made you become distant when you didn’t want to tell us you’d broken up, and showed up in pajamas to your ceremony!” He stopped to take a breath and shut his eyes, leaving Will shocked and speechless. “Will, we love you. We love you so much more than you can imagine, and we only want what is best for you. You’re our first kid, bud. So we don’t know how to deal with any of this yet.” He walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Regardless of how certain you feel and how mature you are, as a parent, I worry. I went about it horribly, I recognize that. But you have a part to play too.”

“He’s right about that, hon,” his mom said softly. “It’s hard to understand when we don’t even know what we’re being given to deal with. You have to talk to us.”

Taking a shaky breath, Will nodded and gulped. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She kissed his forehead and tousled his hair. “I can explain all of it,” he said. He pulled up a lawn chair and raised an eyebrow. His parents looked at each other and sat down.

Then Will started from the beginning, warning them that they may not like everything they hear, but to wait for him to finish.

He told them about Nico’s song, and trying to talk to him. He told them how defensive and angry he’d gotten. And he told them how drunk he’d gotten at the party, and how Will had to help him leave. He told them about how he’d gotten sick and muttered that he hated his life, which was the entire reason Will had even thought about talking to him more. He didn’t give them details about Nico’s life- that was for Nico to do when he was comfortable. But he explained that he’d had a lot of hardships, and struggled with his own style of harming and self-destruction. He told them about how reluctant he’d been to be friends, then about the misunderstanding that led to their first try at a relationship. He told them about the problem on New Year’s and what had really happened to Nico… then proceed to explain how Nico got in a fight for it. How that led to his internship and how Nico began to become distant after their first Valentine’s day. He told them about the breakup. He didn’t tell them the things he’d said… only that Nico had told him he didn’t like him anymore and that it was over. He admitted how broken he’d felt, and how his friends had helped him remain focused, how Paolo had helped him cope by crying and being angry. He told them about Nico’s excursions, and the alcohol poisoning, ignoring their shocked, disapproving faces.

Then he told them about Nico’s confession. The first time he’d told Will he loved him. How Will couldn’t bring himself to date him again for lack of trust. And how he’d tried to date again, only to find out that Nico had taken the initiative to start therapy for his depression and quit drinking. He told them about their friendship rebuilding, their boundaries. And how he’d found himself falling even harder for him. He told them about the day he’d finally managed to take him on a date and how Nico had kissed him, making them both realize they couldn’t be “just friends” anymore. They were too in love. And how they decided to try again… how much better it was… how he trusted Nico more than ever before.

“He doesn’t know,” he whispered. “But I found one of his sheets from therapy. He’d written a list of things he looked forward to. Most of them were about me. Being with me in the future.” He chuckled and tried not to blush. “This guy who never even wanted to date anyone, who enjoyed one night stands and parties… wants a future with me. I don’t know how far ahead he’s thought. Like I said, we just started dating again. And… one of them was even getting you guys to like him. He’s changed so much… all on his own. To be better for himself and for me. And ever since he became part of my life… I don’t struggle as much either. He has no idea how selfless he is.” He leaned forward and rubbed his neck, sighing. “I know I’m only twenty. Well, almost twenty. But I do love him. I really, really do.”

His parents looked at each other and seemed to be deep in thought, communicating with their eyes. If this boy could try so desperately for their son, then surely he couldn’t be a bad person. He had flaws, of course. But who didn’t? Naomi herself was known for having a one-track mind and being stubborn. Lester knew he was run by emotion more than rationalization, and that he sometimes didn’t know when to be serious. Will was stubborn and overly selfless. Nico had a temper.

But the point was Naomi and Lester loved each other enough to overlook and balance the flaws. And so did Nico and Will. They understood better. They knew the story. Most of it, at least. They knew who they were bringing into their home, who their son loved so deeply.

“Hon, why don’t you bring Nico out here?” his mother suggested softly. Will hesitated and stood, coming back out a few minutes later with a groggy-looking Nico. “Were you asleep?”

“Just a nap,” he murmured self-consciously.

She smiled at him and looked at her husband who nodded. She looked back at Nico and interlocked her hands. “I hope you haven’t bought your ticket back yet.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at Will. “I’m waiting on my dad to get back to me about the money…. Why?”

“Because we want you to stay,” Will’s father answered. “We have a better idea of who you are and what you’ve done for our son. And we want his birthday to be happy, and you, Nico… you make him happy. We know the story now… while there are a few blanks you’ll have to fill when you’re comfortable. But… I especially see that there is more to you than I originally thought. And it wasn’t fair of me to ask you for… a self-evaluation of your worth and intentions. That’s quite clear.”

Nico’s lips parted in surprise, as did Will’s. “Stay for the week, Nico. Let us get to know you for ourselves,” his mother insisted. “For my sake, at least, let me get to know the boy my son seems to be living with,” she teased light-heartedly.

“A-are you sure?” he asked, looking from them to Will. But Will was just as surprised. “After what I said….”

“What you said wasn’t uncalled for,” his father said with a smile. “I was being an arrogant, closed-minded, demeaning asshole.”

“Oh my God,” Will blurted as Nico’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth.

“Please stay,” he continued.

Nico looked down at the floor and looked at Will. Then his mother added, “Kayla would hate to see you go so soon.”

He laughed and nodded. “Okay, I… I get it. I’ll stay. Thank you.” Will smiled and pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek and causing him to grimace and laugh. “I love you,” he chuckled softly.

“I love you too,” he whispered. He hugged him tightly and looked at his smiling parents. Thank you, he mouthed.

click here for ch. 35

[obsessionsrn]

I Don’t Hate You...

So, this is the first drabble, scenario type thing I’m posting on here. There’s going to be some author notes at the bottom. Also, I didn’t really edit it so…if there are errors or there is an awkward sentence just go with it.

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi


Genre: Angst


The last thing you hear from him is, “I hate you.”


   He was doing it again. He knew you hated it and that it bugged the hell out of you, but he continued to do it. You watched as he continued to tap his foot on his desk while clicking his pen. You had already asked him a couple times to stop, but he went right back to it. You knew it was something stupid to be irritated over, it was just so annoying. 

   “Yoongi,” you call out for the nth time.

   He glances back at you, halting his movements. 

   "I’ve told you thousands of times, can you stop with the kicking and clicking?” You ask, again. 

   "If it’s bothering you so much, go to a different room or put on some headphones,” he shrugs. 

   "I can’t work with noise,” You narrow your eyes at him. 

   "Then why did you come over to work? You knew that it might be distracting coming over, so, why did you?” he sets his pen down now fully facing you. 

   "Oh, sorry for wanting to spend some time with my boyfriend. I thought it would be nice to see you and work. I guess I was wrong in my assumption,” You stand from your spot and start to shuffle your things into a pile. 

   "We’re not even spending time together! We’re both sitting here doing our own thing, it doesn’t even feel like we’re in the same room,” he stands as well. 

   "It doesn’t matter if we talk or not! We’re together, that’s all that matters!”

   "It would be nice to spend time with you without you working all the time!” 

   "I have to get things done, I’m still in school! I have to work!” 

    "It’s always work, work, work with you.” 

   "You are being a complete hypocrite right now, Yoongi. You can’t say that when you spend days, maybe even weeks, holed up in your studio working.” 

   "I have to, to keep this place. Unless you’d much rather me living on the street? I also have to because you enjoy nice dinners and clothes, and all that.” 

   "I am not materialistic, so don’t even say that you have to work to get me shit.” 

   "Whatever the reason is, I have to work unless I want to have no job.” 

   "I have to work as well to get a job! If I don’t get a degree, then what am I supposed to do? Don’t make your work seem like it’s any more important than mine.” 

   He shakes his head and turns back to his computer shutting a few files, ignoring what you said. 

   "You’re an asshole, you know that?” You burn holes into the back of his head before shoving your stuff into your bag. 

   "So, just because I want to spend time with my girlfriend without her working, I’m suddenly an asshole?” he says. 

   "That is not what this argument it about. It’s about how you make my work seem inferior to your work. That it is okay for you to constantly work, but if I do it, it’s wrong and bad.”

   "I didn’t even say that!” 

   You stare at him dumbfounded. 

  "You legit just said that five minutes ago! ‘It’s always work, work, work with you’! and ‘oh, it’s okay that I constantly work because, hey, my work is actually important’” 

   "You’re really stupid, aren’t you? I did not say that, so stop putting words into my mouth.” 

   "That’s what you might as well have said. And stupid? At least I got into university, unlike somebody.” 

   "You’re a fucking asshole. I really fucking hate you right now.” 

   "Good, because the feeling is mutual.” 

    You can’t seem to get out of there as fast as you’d like to. The air is suffocating and angry thoughts circulate through your brain. The door behind you slams making it seem like it was going to fall off its hinges. It doesn’t fully register because your whole body is heated up with a red hot anger. The elevator would take an eternity to wait for, so you opt for the stairs instead. Whenever you would reach the bottom three of a flight, you would hop down and turn quickly to get down those concrete stairs as fast as you could. You get into lobby and the main door stands proudly at the end of the room. Dark gray clouds circle the sky and make it dark outside but you ignore the feeling in your stomach telling you to go back, to just go back and apologize. 

   You shove the door open letting cold and wet take a hold of you. Good, the weather can share my mood. You don’t know where you’re going but you walk. One that doesn’t look rushed but one that doesn’t look like you’re lost either. He’s a fucking asshole who doesn’t know boundaries and thinks he can step all over me. You glare at the swaying trees which look to be almost terrified of you as you pass by them. Wind howls around you like a bunch of wolves trying to communicate with each other. It’s not fair that he thinks he can be like that. Why does he think his work is so much more important than mine? 

   Your nails dig into your hands tightly which will end up causing indents to appear later. You don’t know where you are anymore and causes you to take note of the empty street, the loud wind and few cars, the smell of rain, and wetness on your skin. Your eyes dart around the street but you push past the unsettling feeling and continue. Eventually you get to a place that you’re familiar with, which makes your heart rate pick up. Quickly doing a check of the road, you dash across the road but obviously not quick enough. Time seems to stop as the car comes hurdling towards you at a speed which it can’t stop. The rain pounds in your ears and your body has turned into stone. It’s too slippery for this car to stop. The screeching tires meet your ears and your eyes seem to have wonderful vision suddenly because you can see the driver screaming. One last thought flits through your mind, does he really hate me?
 

A call. This is what causes his whole world to fall away.

   "Is this Min Yoongi?” a voice of a female asks. 

   "Yes,” he replies easily. 

   "Hi, this is Seoul Hospital and I’m contacting you due to an accident that has included your significant other. You’re listed as her emergency contact and hence I’m contacting you. It would be ideal for you to come to the hospital as soon as you can, sir.” 

   Slowly the world starts to slow. Accident? 

  "A-an accident? What kind of accident?” he grips the phone tightly.

   She was silent for a moment. 

  "A car accident,” she states, “I think it would be best for you to come to the hospital to get the rest of the-” 

   "No. I-I need to know everything now,” he sat onto the bed gripping the sheets beside him. 

   "She was in an accident with a car near the Han River. She was crossing the street and I assume she didn’t see the car and she rushed into the street only to see the car coming towards her at the last minute.” 

   "What’s her condition?” 

   Silence again. 

   His hands were shaking. 

   "She’s in critical condition.” 

   The dam bursts and a sound of choking makes it way out of his throat. A sob. An ugly sob. 

   "Sir, are you okay?”

   "Am I okay? The love of my life is going to fucking die. Am I okay?” he laughs hysterically.

   "Sir, please calm down. You’re currently going through shock. I suggest you try to settle and please don’t do anything rash or try to drive in your condition.” 

  "Thanks for the advice. I got to go. Thanks for calling.” 

   "Sir-” He ends the call with shaking hands. 

   He throws his phone across his room not giving a fuck if it broke. With the sound it made he assumes it did break. He jumps to his feet and starts grabbing anything near him and throwing it at the walls and door. Glass shatters, walls gain new windows to opposite rooms, clothes become scattered in his room. He goes through his apartment like a hurricane. He knows that he’ll regret this but his anger is blinding him. I fucking let her leave. I made her leave. This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t fight! My last words were that I hated her. I don’t hate her. 

   "I don’t hate her!” he shouts, wetness kissing his cheeks. 

   He sits in the middle of his living room. Chaos surrounding him. 

   "I need to see her one last time,” he mutters. 

   Legs wobbly, he heads towards his door. He slowly goes down the stairs and out the door towards his car. Am I capable of driving? He wonders. Screw it. He gets behind the wheel and the engine hums to life. The rain has stopped and the windshield wipers happily clean his front window. Then he starts driving. Thoughts plague his brain. 

   "How am I going to break the news to her family?” he whispers to himself. 

   Once he gets to the hospital, the rest is hazy. He remembers asking for you, showing his ID, then being lead through the clean, sickening hallways. A doctor steps outside the room shaking her head at a nurse that waits near the door. Yoongi watches the action confused until he realizes that the room the doctor came from is the room they’re currently heading to. The doctor sends the nurse away and he leaves silently. The doctor looks up to see Yoongi and the receptionist, causing her face to shift into a cringe. 

   "Dr. Lee,” she holds out a hand to him. He takes it gently and stares at the door behind her. 

   "Min Yoongi,” he barely gets out.

   "You are the emergency contact? The significant other?” 

   "Y-yes.” "Is her family available currently?” 

   "They live in America.” 

   "Oh, I see.” 

   Silence sits between them.

  "What’s she like?” he chokes out already knowing the answer. 

   She lets out a sigh and clasps her hands in front of her. 

   "She…has departed.” 

   His breath leaves his lungs, his eyes widen, his hands start shaking and he’s gasping for air. Stupid lungs, breath in and out. You do it all the time. He can’t catch his breath and the breathing is too quickly paced. Hyperventilating. He’s hyperventilating. Why can’t I feel my feet and hands? What’s going on? His whole body seems to be tingling with pins and needles. He leans to stabilize himself on the wall. Dr. Lee is getting too close to him and asking questions and he wants her to stop talking. He wants to lash out and tell her to shut up. He can’t seem to speak though. He’s too consumed with this overwhelming sense of panic. Then it starts to dissipate. Slowly, he starts to breath normally and he gains feeling back. His vision starts to become up right again, and he becomes less light headed. Dr. Lee’s voice can now be heard clearly now. 

   "It’s okay, calm down,” she soothes. 

   "I-I,” he’s gasping out.


  "You just experienced a panic attack, but you’re okay. Everything is all right,” she rubs his arms. 

   "Okay? She’s dead! She’s dead and it’s my fault!” he shakes Dr. Lee’s hands off him and stumbles back. 

   "Mr. Min, you need to calm down or else we’ll have to take precautions,” her eyes narrow while moving towards him. 

   "Right, p-public place. I-I’m okay. Let me just see her. Please,” he moves forward. 

   Dr. Lee nods and he follows her eagerly into the room. She lies there lifeless. Her skin doesn’t have the same glow that it did when she was alive, it’s toned down now. Yoongi carefully moves toward her. As he stands right beside her bed he gently takes her hand in his. He stares down at her then kisses her forehead.

   
“I’m so sorry. I don’t hate you,” his voice breaks.

Author Note: So, yes, I am aware that they don’t tell you the condition over the phone because people can be stupid and end up doing stupid shit while in a state of panic but I needed him to mess up his apartment. Also, anything else that doesn’t make sense, just shhh,  I sort of rushed through this, and it’s really short. I apologize. I don’t know what else to say. I hope you semi enjoyed it? 

[fabricati-diem-pvnc]

Effeminate submission vs. narrative control: Harry ‘Bunny’ Manders

Note: Over the course of #rafflesweek, I will post five excerpts from my master’s thesis on E.W. Hornung’s Raffles stories. While each part can be read on its own, I recommend reading them in the order they are posted.

This is Part 2.

(Please see the end for footnotes and works cited.)

Bunny as the “New Man”

A. J. Raffles subverts the gentleman ideal by blurring the lines between gentleman, dandy, and common criminal. In contrast, Bunny’s1 subversion of the concepts of late-Victorian masculinity is markedly different. Firstly, Bunny falls short of many of the character traits traditionally considered ‘manly’ by his contemporaries. Contrary to Raffles, Bunny is not an athlete: he is terrible at sports in general and cricket in particular. In “Gentleman and Players”, Bunny is aghast when Raffles presents him as a skilled cricketer to Lord Amersteth: “‘What are you thinking of?’ I whispered savagely. ‘I was nowhere near the eleven [during my time at school]. I’m no sort of cricketer.” (Hornung 2013: 34). Bunny’s nickname, bestowed on him by Raffles, expresses this as well: in cricket terminology, a ‘bunny’ (or ‘rabbit’) is a team member who bats poorly (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-ides-of-march/>)2.

Bunny’s poor sportsmanship is accompanied by a general lack of physical strength. In “To Catch a Thief”, he tries to threaten Lord Ernest Belville with a revolver, but is soon overpowered by him: “His hand was on the top of mine, bending it down, and the revolver with it. The strength of it was as the strength of ten of mine […].” (Hornung 2013: 181). Just two pages earlier, Raffles had actually picked Bunny up because he wasn’t moving quick enough to hide himself: “[…] he picked me off my feet and swung me bodily but silently into the bedroom […].” (Hornung 2013: 179). Raffles repeats this act in “Out of Paradise”; in the story, Bunny’s shoes make too much noise on a gravel path, so Raffles decides that he must carry him across: “[…] Raffles, with me in his arms, crossed the zone of peril softly as the [leo]pard.” (Hornung 2013: 240).

The act of carrying a person across a threshold – the bedroom in “To Catch a Thief”, the entrance to the house in “Out of Paradise” – strongly suggests the image of a groom carrying his bride across the threshold on their honeymoon. The feminisation of Bunny by the narrative doesn’t end here, though. In fact, Bunny’s appearance, character and general demeanour are rife with traditionally ‘feminine’ traits. Fair-haired, slim and rather young-looking for his age3, he is repeatedly perceived as being ‘innocent’ or ‘naive’ – a feature Raffles considers indispensable for the safety of “the firm” (Hornung 2013: 45). Bunny also expresses disappointment at being unable to grow a proper moustache: “My straw-colored moustache, grown in the flat after a protracted holiday, again preserved the most disappointing dimensions, and was still invisible in certain lights without wax.” (Hornung 2013: 200)4. While Raffles tends to show a remarkable amount of self-confidence and bravado even in the face of danger, Bunny tends to doubt himself and is prone to emotional outbursts (Green 2003: xlv). One of these outpourings of emotion occurs in “The Chest of Silver”; when Bunny realises he has been duped by Raffles yet again, he says: “I could have rent my garments in mortification and annoyance with myself and Raffles.” (Hornung 2013: 251). The most striking example of Bunny’s effeminacy, however, is his temporary transformation into a woman in “The Rest Cure”.

In the story, Raffles and Bunny pursue a curious sort of holiday by squatting in the house of Colonel Crutchley, who is spending the summer months with his family in Switzerland. Raffles calls it his own version of a ‘rest cure’5: he spends his days working on perfecting his disguises and his nights reading huge tomes of history books (Hornung 2013: 264-266). While Raffles manages to grow a “flourishing beard” within just two weeks (Hornung 2013: 267), Bunny’s own facial hair remains stubbornly thin; consequently, to prove to Raffles he can pull off a disguise just as well as him, Bunny engages in a painstaking act of cross-dressing. He curls his rather long hair into “an almost immodest fringe”, puts on a skirt and a feather boa, dons a “big black hat with a wintry feather”, and even applies a layer of powder to his face (Hornung 2013: 267). His disguise as a woman is so convincing that, when Bunny is unexpectedly confronted by the owner of the house, the man actually believes Bunny to be a woman: “A woman, begad! […] [W]here’s the man, you scarlet hussy?” (Hornung 2013: 268). On the one hand, the success of Bunny’s cross-dressing further enforces the effeminacy of his outward appearance. On the other hand, Hornung’s use of this trope also recalls the New Woman writings of the early 1890s, where cross-dressing was a common plot element (Kucich 1994: 262-264). The “New Woman” transgressed gender boundaries by claiming access to the ‘male’ sphere of society, which turned her into the threatening spectre of the homme-femme for her male contemporaries (Rance 1990: 8). As Bunny transgresses gender boundaries into the opposite direction, he forms the counterpart of the mannish woman – the femme-homme –, which has led O’Brien to identify him as an example of a “New Man” (O’Brien 2015: 663).

The other side of the coin

Additionally to his being a metatextual foil to the concept of the New Woman, within the narrative Bunny more directly functions as a foil to Raffles. Some of their antithetical character traits – for instance, manly vigour vs. effeminacy – have already been pointed out. Regarding their outward appearance, Bunny’s straw-coloured hair contrasts nicely with Raffles’ black locks, and Bunny’s innocent looks are set against Raffles’ more inscrutable features: “Again I see him, leaning back in one of the luxurious chairs […]. I see his indolent, athletic figure; his pale, sharp, clean-shaven features; his curly black hair; his strong, unscrupulous mouth. And again I feel the clear beam of his wonderful eye, cold and luminous as a star, shining into my brain – sifting the very secrets of my heart.” (Hornung 2013: 6; emphasis added)

Another difference between Bunny and Raffles is based on their relative strength of character: while Raffles has found a method to balance the financial demands of a life of leisure with the secret thrill of criminal exploits, Bunny has not been so successful. In “The Ides of March”, the reader is introduced to Bunny as a dissipated young man who has squandered his inheritance on an extravagant lifestyle, horse-racing, and gambling. After he has lost a considerable amount of money at a baccarat game and signed over worthless checks to the winners, Bunny is desperate. Terrified of losing face, he would rather commit suicide than own up to his mistakes: “The barrel [of the pistol] touched my temple, and my thumb the trigger. Mad with excitement as I was, ruined, dishonored, and now finally determined to make an end of my misspent life, my only surprise to this day is that I did not do so then and there.” (Hornung 2013: 4). Bunny’s inability to manage his finances persists even after he has “joined felonious forces” (Hornung 2013: 17) with Raffles. In “The Rest Cure”, Bunny still hasn’t paid off his creditors, and he again looks to Raffles for getting him out of these dire straits: “[…] my balance at the bank was sorely in need of another lift from Raffles.” (Hornung 2013: 260). Raffles, on the other hand, is never shown having to struggle with debts or creditors6.

Bunny also displays a weakness of character in his attitude towards drinking alcohol. Raffles has a strict rule of having only one drink at night, a rule he very rarely violates7; when he is about to commit a burglary, he doesn’t drink at all. He expresses this principle in “The Ides of March”, where he refuses a drink offered to him by Bunny with the words: “When we come back […]. Work first, play afterward.” (Hornung 2013: 8). Raffles repeatedly advises Bunny to follow his lead, for instance in “A Costume Piece”: “Mind, only one drink to-night, Bunny. Two at the outside – as you value your life – and mine!” (Hornung 2013: 25). Far from heeding Raffles’ advice, however, Bunny is frequently shown to abuse alcohol, a behaviour that was highly suspect at the time as alcoholism was believed to facilitate mental illness (Taylor 2007: 15). Bunny constantly ignores Raffles’ example of abstinence when committing a crime. During his dinner with the Australian legislator in “Nine Points of the Law”, Bunny drinks several glasses of wine while, at the same time, Raffles is stealing a painting next door (Hornung 2013: 80). In “A Trap to Catch a Cracksman”, Bunny is forced to come to Raffles’ aid after having spent the night out drinking with another friend; his being drunk seriously impedes his ability to get Raffles out of the eponymous trap he has been caught in (Hornung 2013: 326). At one point, Raffles even comments on Bunny’s unhealthy drinking habits. In Mr. Justice Raffles (1909), he tells Bunny about his taking the waters at Carlsbad spa8: “[…] mud-poultices and dry meals, with teetotal poisons in between […]. You stiffen your lip at that, eh, Bunny? I told you that you never would or could have stood it […].” (Hornung 2013: 371; emphasis added). While some of these instances may be excused as social drinking, Bunny himself admits that there are times when he drinks to ease emotional pain. In “The Raffles Relics”, Bunny drinks copiously to try and deal with his worries over Raffles, who he fears has been caught by the police: “There was a bottle at my elbow, and that night I say deliberately that it was not my enemy but my friend.” (Hornung 2013: 357).

While it is important for Bunny that their burglaries turn out successful, his role in them is usually quite passive. The idea for a coup almost always originates with Raffles9, and Bunny rarely gets the chance to take an active part in their planning. Raffles persistently sidelines him by withholding important information, thus sending him blind into their adventures more often than not (O’Brien 2015: 661). More than once, Bunny’s ignorance actively endangers Raffles’ safety. In “A Costume Piece”, for example, Bunny nearly blows Raffles’ cover because he doesn’t know his plans (Hornung 2013: 23). Still, Raffles insists on keeping important facts from his partner in crime. Bunny deeply resents this secrecy and complains about it frequently, but it changes nothing: the asymmetry in their partnership remains10.

“I fagged for you at school”

Part of the reason for this power imbalance lies in their shared history: when Bunny and Raffles first met at school, Bunny acted as a fag for Raffles.

‘Fagging’ was an important part of the public school system. Put simply, a ‘fag’ was a junior boy who had to perform various tasks of servitude for a senior boy; these included domestic tasks such as cleaning the senior boy’s room or helping him with his studies (Hornung 2003: 141, note 3). In Raffles’ case, Bunny obviously had to prepare (at least part of) his homework: “[…] I recollect fagging you to do my verses […].” (Hornung 2013: 3). The philosophy behind this master-servant relationship was that, “by first serving and then being served, a young man who was likely as an adult to command subordinates learned about the relationship from both sides” (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-ides-of-march/>). This history of subservience, coupled with Raffles’ superior knowledge and skills regarding crime, certainly explains the power imbalance early on in their adult relationship (O’Brien 2015: 656). One might argue that the experience Bunny gains from their criminal exploits should be enough to undo this asymmetry as the years progress. However, this is where Raffles’ tendency for secrecy comes in: by excluding Bunny from most of the planning stage, Raffles denies him the self-confidence he might have otherwise gained from a shared responsibility in executing their felonious deeds. The division of their criminal partnership into a proactive, planning part (Raffles) and a more passive part expected to follow blindly and obey instructions (Bunny) also recreates the power imbalance of the traditional patriarchal family unit (Purchase 2006: 64-66), with Bunny taking the part of the woman.

Even though Raffles does the bulk of the work for their exploits, he always insists on dividing the loot equally between himself and Bunny, even when Bunny has had no actual part in the burglary itself. This makes Bunny desperate to prove his worth to him: “It was my passionate desire […] to ‘keep up my end’ with Raffles in every department of the game felonious. He would insist upon an equal division of all proceeds; it was for me to earn my share.” (Hornung 2013: 334-335). Yet when Bunny actually tries to take the lead for once, it ends in disaster. His plan to rob his childhood home in “The Spoils of Sacrilege” leads to them being cornered in a turret, with the only way out being a possibly fatal climb down a lightning conductor. They survive the climb, but Bunny is so ashamed of his poorly thought-out plan he never dares suggest another one (Hornung 2013: 334).

An unlikely Boswell: Bunny’s struggle for narrative control

While Bunny’s role in his relationship with Raffles is clearly a subservient one, his position as narrator is more complex. Firstly, there is Bunny’s self-characterisation as a “most unworthy Boswell” (Hornung 1984: 179), which is a reference to the actual James Boswell, who was the friend and biographer of English writer and lexicographer Samuel Johnson. More importantly, though, the term brings to mind the relationship between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s story “A Scandal in Bohemia” (1891), Sherlock Holmes famously says to Watson: “Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell.” (Doyle 2003: 243). By providing Bunny with the same epithet Watson is awarded, Hornung subtly draws attention to the similar modes of narration: both the Sherlock Holmes and the Raffles stories are told in the first person by one of the two protagonists, and both Watson and Bunny fulfil the role of narrator as well as focaliser (O’Brien 2015: 657).

While the function of Watson and Bunny as biographer to their respective friends may be similar, the outcome is markedly different. Holmes may not reveal every deduction he makes at once, but he always ends up explaining them to his audience in plausible enough detail (Symons 1985: 67). Raffles, on the other hand, conceals so much from Bunny that he isn’t just hampered in his role as partner in crime, but also in his role as Raffles’ biographer. There are several instances in the stories where Bunny is forced to speculate on Raffles’ true motives. More often than not, the result is a case of wishful thinking on Bunny’s side. In “Wilful Murder”, for example, Angus Baird – one of the receivers of stolen goods Raffles has dealings with – has discovered Raffles’ true identity. To keep his cover, Raffles decides to kill the man but is beaten to it by another of Baird’s victims. When Raffles keeps looking at the corpse without saying a word, Bunny interprets his stare “as a man might stare into an abyss after striding blindly to its brink” (Hornung 2013: 66), implying that the confrontation with an actual murder victim has shook Raffles to the core and cured him of his murderous impulses. This interpretation is disproven later in the story, when Raffles is shown to envy the murderer for his experience: “[…] I should have endeavored to [enjoy the situation] in his place […].”(Hornung 2013: 70)11. Raffles himself is quite aware of Bunny’s tendency to turn him into a hero, both in his mind and in his writings about their experiences:

“’I know what I am,’ said he, ‘but I’m afraid you’re getting a hopeless villain-worshipper!’

‘It’s not the villain I care about,’ I answered, meaning every word. ‘It’s the sportsman behind the villain, as you know perfectly well.’

‘I know the villain behind the sportsman rather better,’ replied Raffles, laughing when I least expected it. ‘But you’re by way of forgetting his existence altogether. I shouldn’t wonder if some day you wrote me up into a heavy hero, Bunny, and made me turn in my quicklime!’”

(Hornung 2013: 484; emphasis added)

Bunny’s deliberate attempt to paint Raffles in a more positive light is directly referenced by him in the opening to A Thief in the Night (1905). The Black Mask (1901) had ended with Raffles’ death in South Africa, so in the third book, Bunny’s only resource of more stories is their shared past: “[…] I can but go back to our earliest days together, and fill in the blanks left by discretion in existing annals.” (Hornung 2013: 234). Since Raffles is dead, Bunny feels free to reveal their more heinous episodes: “The whole truth cannot harm him now. I shall paint in every wart. Raffles was a villain, when all is written […]. I have dwelt unduly on the redeeming side. And this I may do again, blinded even as I write by the gallant glamour that made my villain more to me than any hero.” (Hornung 2013: 234)

Despite Bunny’s claim to “paint in every wart”, A Thief in the Night contains even more of Bunny’s and Raffles’ more light-hearted exploits than the previous volumes. Stories like “The Criminologists’ Club”, where Raffles’ break-in is merely intended to put Lord Thornaby in his place, or “The Field of Philippi”, where Raffles steals money from a former schoolmate only to then donate it in his name, depict Bunny and Raffles more like “gentleman pranksters out on a spree” (Rowland 1999: 177) than hardened criminals.

O’Brien has pointed out that, as the stories progress, “[…] it becomes increasingly clear the whole series is, in effect, Bunny’s fictional ordering and reconstruction of events.” (O’Brien 2015: 664). While Bunny may not have had much control over the events as they transpired, as narrator he does have the power to reconstruct them as he pleases. By depicting Raffles as a somewhat heroic figure, Bunny attempts to make his loyalty to Raffles seem less perplexing. The less villainous and amoral Raffles appears, the more opportunity is awarded to Bunny to paint himself in a better light. Thus, as a narrator, Bunny has finally turned the power imbalance in his relationship with Raffles in his favour. As O’Brien puts it so succinctly: “Inside the stories Raffles is master; at the level of narration Bunny rules.” (O’Brien 2015: 664).

Footnotes:

1‘Bunny’ is merely a nickname, but it is the only name the reader is given for 25 of the 27 stories. His full name is not revealed until the very last of the Raffles stories: in Mr. Justice Raffles (1909), the reader learns that Bunny’s last name is actually Manders (Hornung 2013: 406). His first name had been established in the story directly preceding the novel – the ultimate story in the collection A Thief in the Night (1905) –, where a letter written to Bunny addresses him as “Harry” (Hornung 2013: 362).

2Bunny’s poor performance as a cricketer is based in part on E. W. Hornung’s own lack of sportsmanship. Due to his ill health, Hornung’s nickname at Uppingham School was ‘Dodo’ (as in, “as dead as a Dodo”) (Green 2003: xviii).

3Bunny is about four years younger than Raffles. “The Field of Philippi” reveals that, while Bunny and Raffles did go to the same public school, Bunny was only in the Lower Fourth when Raffles was already in the Upper Sixth (Hornung 2013: 290, 295). Boys in the Lower Fourth were usually about 13 to 14 years old, boys in the Upper Sixth about 17 to 18 (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-field-of-philippi/>).

4This passage also contains another reference to The Picture of Dorian Gray: “I had sustained no external hallmark by my term of imprisonment, and I am vain enough to believe that the evil which I did had not a separate existence in my face.” (Hornung 2013: 200; emphasis added).

5At the time, a ‘rest cure’ was a method of therapy involving bed rest, enforced silence, and seclusion (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-rest-cure/>). It was predominantly prescribed for women and has been immortalised in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s short story “The Yellow Wallpaper” (1892).

6While Raffles does run into trouble with one of his receivers of stolen goods in “Wilful Murder”, his problem is not based on lack of money but on the man having gleaned his real identity (Hornung 2013: 61).

7One of the exceptions occurs in “Le Premier Pas”: “I tell you what though, this is an occasion in any case, and I’m going to celebrate it by breaking the one good rule of my life. I’m going to have a second drink!” (Hornung 2013: 47).

8Raffles’ idea to take the waters at Carlsbad – a famous spa in Bohemia – also reflects the obsession of the early-twentieth century middle class with health and hygiene (Kemp/Mitchell/Trotter 1997: xii).

9The only exception occurs in “The Spoils of Sacrilege”, when Bunny, desperate to prove himself to Raffles, suggests burgling his own childhood home (Hornung 2013: 334-335).

10The futility of Bunny’s complaints can be gathered from an exchange in “The Return Match”: “‘He wrote to you! And you never told me!’ The old shrug answered the old grievance.” (Hornung 2013: 86).

11Raffles had expressed the very same sentiment in an earlier story, where he commented: “[…] I have often thought that the murderer who has just done the trick must have great sensations before things get too hot for him.” (Hornung 2013: 16).

Works cited:

Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan. Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Novels and Stories. Vol. 1. New York: Bantam Classics, 2003.

Green, Richard Lancelyn. “Introduction.” Raffles: The Amateur Cracksman. E.W. Hornung. Ed. Richard Lancelyn Green. London: Penguin, 2003. xvii-xlvii.

Hornung, E.W. A.J. Raffles – The Gentleman Thief Series: The Amateur Cracksman; The Black Mask; A Thief in the Night; Mr. Justice Raffles. Leipzig: Amazon Distribution GmbH, 2013.

Kemp, Sandra, Charlotte Mitchell, and David Trotter, eds. Edwardian Fiction: An Oxford Companion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.

Kucich, John. The Power of Lies: Transgression in Victorian Fiction. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994.

Morrissey, Genevieve L., and Sarah Morrissey. Raffles Redux. 2014. 16 January 2016. <http://www.rafflesredux.com/>.

O’Brien, Lee. “Wilde Words: The Aesthetics of Crime and the Play of Genre in E.W. Hornung’s Raffles Stories.” English Studies, 96.6 (2015): 654-669.

Purchase, Sean. Key Concepts in Victorian Literature. Palgrave Key Concepts. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

Rance, Nick. “The Immorally Rich and the Richly Immoral: Raffles and the Plutocracy.” Twentieth-Century Suspense: The Thriller Comes of Age. Ed. Clive Bloom. Insights. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1990. 1-21.

Rowland, Peter. Raffles and His Creator: The Life and Works of E.W. Hornung. London: Nekta, 1999.

Symons, Julian. Bloody Murder: From the Detective Story to the Crime Novel, a History. 1972. Rev. and updated ed. Middlesex: Viking, 1985.

Taylor, Jenny Bourne. “Psychology at the fin de siècle.” The Cambridge Companion to the Fin de Siècle. Ed. Gail Marshall. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. 13-30.

[burchlife]

Thoughts from Toulouse

1) I should post more - I never regret it

2) Starting to get extremely stressed about HBS. I'm so excited and I think it'll be amazing experience, but doubt is starting to creep in.

Combined, we're giving up about $800k - is there really an ROI enough to justify that? I've never been in debt before and it's terrifying me. I hate the idea that I have no way to care off myself and her if something goes wrong. What if I spend all of that and the economy crashes and there's no good jobs? It's a very real possibility that happened in 2008, and we're due for a redux. Even coming out with a $150k salary, my ROI takes 8-10 years in the best case. I understand that financially that's not a bad case and will be better long-term, but I'm still scared.

Furthermore, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared about doing long distance. I'm worried about the tradeoffs that are required - what will I have to sacrifice to be with her, and what with her will I sacrifice to make the most of my time? It will be a tough balancing act. Ironically, I'm not actually all that worried it won't work out. Despite this fear, there's not a doubt in my mind that the relationship will work. I don't know what the cost of long distance will be, but I am willing to pay it.

I'm also stressed about the transition. How do I pack up and move cross country as an adult? Where do I live? How do I get furniture? Who should be my roommate? Should I travel before or is that wasting money? What do I do with my cat (this is really the surprising stressful of all - I'll come back to it)? Theres so much to do and I've done none of it.

The cat is definitely a top stresser though. When I adopted her I made a commitment to take care of her, and I don't think at the time I realized what that meant, but I hate to back out of it now. I'm split - on one hand, I don't know if I can take of her, but on the other hand I hate to give her up. Worse yet, I can't seem to find her a permanent home. My biggest fear is that I'll get a call in September and need to find somewhere for her to live because I just can't. Even with that, I'm not sure I trust her non perfect behavior to have someone want her permanently. Ugh - I don't know what to do.

Despite all that, I am excited. I genuinely believe that HBS will be extremely formative in both the skills and network I need to grow and set myself up for live. Plus - it just sounds fun. I can't wait for it to get here.

3) I feel like I've been really shit at my job lately, and not sure if that's true or not. I see a few possibilities

First, that I am really am shit at my job. I don't want to rule this out, because aspects of it are probably true. I've had trouble a few times now with my temper at work that I'm not happy with, and have definitely had oversights I should have caught

Second, that I'm not bad at my job, just asked to do too much and work that's not suited to me. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a detail oriented person, and managing VVVMs and datasheets is my hell. Most of the oversights I've had are in this vein, and I do believe that it's just hard and should not all be on my shoulders. I do better when the work is more high level, communication, planning, etc. Probably a good lesson to remember

Third, that I'm doing fine, but that Ivan is a critical boss who makes everyone feel like their doing poorly. I know Cameron feels this way, so it isn't unreasonable and even when I know I've done well I don't get much praise. In his defense, he's stressed and busy, but he should take a lesson about management priorities - to take care of your people. Again, a lesson to remember when I'm a manager.

Fourth, that id be doing better if I wasn't quitting in three months and had more motivation. I'm trying to keep it up, but I'd by lying if I said I wasn't pushing the boundaries a bit knowing that it didn't effect my future.

Realistically, it's probably a combination of all of these. It's hard to realize I'm not viewed as a superstar, but maybe that's ok and good for me to acknowledge.

4) Its shocking how well things are going with her. We have few fights and when we do they always end in laughter and real acknowledgement of what we can do next time. I was so amazed at how she handled the argument at Sintra. I (probably stupidly) defended myself from her anger, and she was able to step back from the emotion and acknowledge I had a point and that she was being unfair. We then proceeded to have w real conversations. That takes real strength and EQ and was a huge moment for me to see. That's the kind of thing that gives me faith for the future.

Speaking of the future, it's crazy to me how excited I am to marry her and to, weirdly enough, have kids someday. I always hoped to find this, but honestly I don't think I believed it was possibly. And yet, here we are, where when I see anything wedding related it makes me smile thinking about marrying her. On principle I hate the idea of spending lots on a wedding, but honestly to make her happy it almost seems worth it. Part of me when's to propose as soon as I can rather than waiting - it's psycho.

However, there's always that fear that it won't work. That 10 years from now, something changes and it all falls apart. I've never seen a single sign or red flag that that is likely, and the fear isn't changing my mind about marriage, but the fear is always there. Child of divorce, I guess.

5) I'm fucking lucky. I'm 25, and have been all around the world. My work trusts me to visit our major customers alone and develop ideas that cost millions of dollars and years of development. That's cool as hell. My TVS parts, which I knew were mediocre at best all along, have made $300k in just 2 years and project to be steady earners indefinitely - Apple is even looking at them.

When i think of that, it gives me hope that I can hold my own around the best of the best at HBS

6) Combining a few points, I'm so curious to see how I stack up at HBS. I've never not been the big fish in a little pond, and there I will be up against at best equals and at worst people far far smarter and harder working and better communicators. I should by all accounts feel like an imposter, but for some reason I still don't. Part of my still thinks I'll be the smartest one there and be the best, despite that objectively ridiculous. White male priveledge is one hell of a drug.

I am excited though - every time I've been around those who are objectively smarter than me, I've used that as a motivation to get better. I wouldn't be where I am today without Adam, and I'm hoping to spring board to the next level through my new classmates.

7) Toulouse is a gorgeous town. I've never been anywhere just so pleasant - I want to come back here with her someday and just do nothing for a week.

8) I have lots more thoughts, but that's probably the biggest ones for now as it's getting cold sitting at this cafe. Hopefully this time, I'll post again soon instead of waiting 8 months

[letitproducejoy-blog]

Me, Too: Breaking the silence

This post is full of triggers. Please read at your own discretion. TIME Magazine just came out with its Person of the Year 2017, and I have to say, y'all... I'm speechless. The Silence Breakers But now, I'm speechless for the right reasons. Finally, after all this time, we are finding our voices and speaking out against boundaries crossed, opportunities lost, lives shattered. We're telling our stories, not meekly behind computer screens or stealthily to our dearest friends, but with gigantic fucking megaphones. And finally, there are repercussions. Sure, we still have a long way to go; after all, Bill Cosby still admitted to his crimes and walked away, Brock Allen Turner still only served a paltry sentence for rape (and is now fighting that ruling because of course he is), and we have a shameless sexual predator occupying the highest office in the land. Still, there's a palpable shift going on, and TIME recognized it. Sought it. And if #MeToo brought these truths to the world stage, TIME just flicked on the floodlights. And begrudgingly, it's my turn to step into the spotlight. This is the first time I've ever told my entire story, and while it's one of many I could tell, it's the one that stands out most clearly, was the most egregious of them all. I was eighteen when I was raped. He has a name, but he's not famous. He could be anyone; in fact, he's been everyone since. I barely knew him. He worked stock, I was in the photo lab, so we didn't interact very often. He was twice my age, too, so when there was opportunity to talk, there weren't a lot of common interests. But it's not like he was a stranger. It started at a Fort Lauderdale nightclub. I was invited by a friend of his, another coworker who had about seven years on me and who thought it was a great idea to doll me up to go out (she told me later, because this guy had a thing for me). Not only was I grossly uncomfortable in the short skirt and the makeup, but the attention at the club was disconcerting, too: Men of all shapes and sizes and colors and ages grinding up against you, touching you wherever your skin was exposed, and in some places where it was not. I left the dance floor a number of times, only to be dragged out again and again, finally by him. I guess he thought I was "his." One hand on my lower back, pulling me closer, the other steadily pushing other men away. I didn't know you could feel simultaneously thankful (only one guy was grabbing my ass now) and disgusted (someone still has my ass in his hand). He forced a few kisses, too, on my neck and my face and my lips, even as I turned away and tried leaving the floor again. Blissfully, 2am came and the club closed for the night. Since my female colleague had already left -- no doubt because she was hoping something would happen for his friend, if you know what I mean -- he offered to drive me home. I was already past my curfew, so calling my parents was a no-go... so I accepted. I don't remember the drive home, only when he dropped me off and how his hand felt on my thigh and the alcohol on his breath as he tried to kiss me again. I got in quite a bit of trouble last night, but I should have known my parents were the least of my concerns. I avoided him pretty well after that night, only going to the stock room, where the printer paper and ink and all other supplies I needed to do my job were stored, when absolutely necessary and always when I saw him on the floor. Of course, him being occupied by something else didn't stop him from dropping whatever he was doing and pressing me between his body and boxes of merchandise. Cardboard still give me anxiety for the way it feels against my bare hands. I couldn't say anything, though. He had been working there for several years and I was only a teenager -- an adult in the eyes of the law, yes, but a child in every other aspect. I was terrified that saying anything would cast doubt, get me fired, or worse. So I kept quiet and away as much as possible. Where it went from "what a gross guy" to "what have I done" was summer of 2003. My workplace was less than a mile from my parents' house, so I often walked to work. One hot July afternoon, as I made my way to work, a car pulled up beside me and he called out, "Do you need a ride?" It was hot. I had on layers (regular clothes plus my work smock). Things had been relatively calm for the preceding month, so maybe he had changed. Whatever excuse I had, I took him up on the offer and climbed in. "Oh, I just need to grab something from my apartment." Sure... oh, your apartment is a ways away... "This might take a second, do you want to come up?" Um... yeah, you have a balcony, I'll just stand there and out of the hot sun. "Do you want some water?" No, thanks... hey, why are you grabbing my hand... I remember the layout of his apartment. Not really much inside it, just that a tiny kitchen was immediately to my left, a dining area as you step inside, a living room just beyond that, and a bedroom and attached bath the next left, just past the kitchen. I remember thinking it weird that he had such a huge mirror over his bed. I still can't look at myself naked in a full-length mirror. I remember his eyes looking around my entire body as he took away the fun of undressing. Looking up as he took away the fun of oral sex. Looking down to my chest as he took away the fun of penetrative sex. Looking away, not with shame but a grin, after he came and pointed me to the bathroom. I remember the shower stall was like a black hole. There was a pattern on the tile, but I couldn't make it out past the blurriness welling up in my eyes. I hated that I had to use his soap, had to smell like him the rest of the day. Bar soap. Like he was rubbing himself against me again. I don't remember much else, a small blessing. I did go to work that day, a hazy, lazy Sunday. The walk home after closing up felt like an eternity as he followed me slowly in his car, his voice echoing my name. I don't remember responding. Or sleeping, or any of the days that followed. I eventually left that job and that city to attend college almost 500 miles away. I had new friends, went to class, started dating. It was a warm fall evening and I was walking with my boyfriend to the cafeteria for dinner when I heard it: A wolf whistle. And there he was, down the street, walking towards me with purpose. I guess he thought I was "his." He had followed me across the length of the state of Florida to find me. There was no social media at the time, no digital means of tracking my movement, but on a campus of almost 25,000 students, he managed to find me. I don't remember what I said then, either, but my words were harsh, biting. He asked for privacy; I told him no. He asked for another kiss; I told him no. He asked me to take a ride with him; I told him no. He asked me to keep this between us; I told him no. Within an hour, campus police knew of his whereabouts and had him escorted off the premises. Still, I locked myself in my dorm for the rest of the evening, told the front desk not to let anyone in without their student ID, and stayed inside, almost cowering, for the rest of the week. I sought no legal recourse; after all, though they did their job and found him, their reaction when I told them I was being stalked and harassed was far from encouraging. Why would city police believe me. It's been 15 years since, and while writing this out still spikes my anxiety, I feel these stories need to be told. #MeToo isn't just a social movement, it's personal empowerment, and not only for those who share their personal experiences. I've shared aspects of my story several times in the last 10 years, after I bucked up the courage to say, "Yes, I've been sexually assaulted." Of course, the story just gets new layers year after year, since some men never learn and insist women are objects and treat them accordingly. My story isn't the only one adding layers, either. But by sharing my experience, I've had several friends and family share theirs with me, too, either publicly or privately. TIME recently revealed that their photo features an elbow. At first glance, it appears surreptitiously cropped from the rest of the photo, like someone just didn't make the cut, or perhaps a result of sloppy editing. Instead, they reveal it was "an anonymous woman who is a hospital worker who was experiencing harassment and didn't feel that she could come forward." These are the women helped when we reveal our stories. Who truly benefit from the #MeToo campaign. If those in power (or who, like me, feel confident enough to) share their experiences, we may see the true "trickle down" effect and dole out consequences to other men and justice to those who have suffered at their hands. Including my rapist. He with a name, he who could be anyone... and he who always has been everyone. http://dlvr.it/Q4qKw1