#and that makes me even more unhappy and it's a vicious circle

[growingwithem]

The kpop fan community is very fake. Obviously I won't put everyone in the same bag because I'm not that kind of person, but it hasn't even been a week of talking about how words and mass hate on the internet can affect our idols for those same people to celebrate Dayoung's comment towards Shindong because he supposedly "deserves it" and it is "an eye for an eye". Context here.

Shindong has been criticized, judged and labeled as macho and fatphobic for a comment that went out of context 10 years ago. The situation was this: A radio listener told him that she wanted to lose weight to look pretty for her boyfriend and he didn't agree. The phrase 'I am a man and you are a woman' that is attributed to Shindong is without context. He was debating how macho the girl's boyfriend was and what would happen if it was the other way around, then Shindong says: 'he could say I'm a man and you're a woman' thus showing a normalized macho thought in our society. He said that he would support his girlfriend's decision if it were the other way around, but he also mentioned that "If you'll be happier starting a diet do it, but only for yourself, not for someone else" That was it. He also wrote an apology on Twitter and mentioned that he would be more careful next time. But still many antis are not satisfied with that and they keep pointing him out for what he has done, does or does not do. To this day, many kpop fans take as fact and reality what some Twitter and TikTok accounts say about how "bad" Super Junior is. They have been in the kpop industry for over 18 years so I wouldn't be surprised if at some point they have made some ignorant comment because all of us have grown up with dysfunctional and toxic beliefs that over the years we have had to unlearn. And if you think that this is not real and is not valid, then I tell you that you will have to carry a huge guilt throughout your life that will make you unhappy.

Society is not the same as 10 years ago because we all evolve and change, it is part of the course of life and it is a reflection that we will not stay with a square mentality if it is not convenient for us and different vulnerable sectors who suffer different kinds of hatred, discrimination and rejection. And for that same reason, I do not label Dayoung as a bad person or fatphobic, because I do believe that it is valid that our mistakes do not label us and that we have the opportunity to grow and improve every day. She is young and just starting out in the world of kpop (and hopefully for her and her fans for many more years). The point of reflection here is about the fans and their malicious comments on the internet. I know we are all aware of what the community is like on twitter and tiktok (since many of us have moved from there to create a healthier community here on tumblr) but it never ceases to amaze me how lost many kpop fans are. Do you complain that the kpop industry is difficult and harmful? Ask yourself who consume it and what they demand. Everything is a vicious circle of supply and demand. If you really want to make the kpop industry healthier go to yourself and ask yourself what are you doing to make it better. Industries move and accommodate based on what the public prefers. If you continue to spread hate based on stereotypes, misinformation, ignorance and double standards, then you will continue to feed dehumanization in that industry that you want so badly to change. Please don't minimize the power of being kind and the ability to see life in a more nuanced way than just "bad" and "good." Believe me that by doing so you make a big change.

[secretariatess]

Kylin 29

When Kylin arrived at the hunter's encampment, he slipped off Vicious's back and immediately caught hold of her bridle to discourage her from sinking her teeth into flesh.

The encampment had three small shelters, encircling a fireplace that had only glowing embers. There was only one Ranger at the camp; he was inspecting, cleaning, and repairing the equipment that was left behind. The Ranger's horse stood not too far away, happily munching away at a small patch of grass that it had found. As there was still daylight, Kylin figured that Shaelren, the hunting master, had taken the rest of the hunting apprentices out.

The one left behind looked up as he approached. Without Kylin saying a word, he said, "Shaelren will be back shortly."

Kylin nodded in acknowledgement. The apprentice went back to his work, not at all bothered by Kylin's presence, nor showing any curiosity.

Which suited him. He didn't particularly feel like getting into any of it. Vivienne had written a letter for Shaelren, explaining the expectations set for Kylin and why. At least, Vivienne's reasonings. As far as Kylin knew, she wasn't going to inform him that Kylin didn't really have a choice in the matter.

After Vivienne had laid out her instructions for him, Rei had dismissed him. He was sent out early that morning. He was given no other opportunity to voice his displeasure or disagreement with the arrangement.

Not that he had anything more to say. Rei knew he was unhappy with the choice and Kylin had nothing to convince him to allow him take another path in specialization. Any time he tried to construct a mental argument for something else, his mind shot it down as swiftly as Rei had with his request to take on a junior master apprenticeship.

True to the other Ranger's words, he did not have to wait too long before Shaelren returned. He had barely dismounted before he was giving out instructions to his apprentices. The apprentice left at camp gestured to Kylin. Shaelren stopped short, raising an eyebrow before approaching him.

Kylin wordlessly handed him Vivienne's letter. Shaelren quickly read over its contents. Then he stuffed the letter into a pocket on the inside of his coat, saying, "So you're pursuing the beast master apprenticeship again?"

The announcement caused a couple of the hunting apprentices to glance over.

"I suppose so," Kylin said, keeping his voice his voice as even as possible in order to avoid betraying any emotion.

"Good," Shaelren said firmly, thoroughly meaning it. "How much do you remember from your previous work and study?"

Kylin shrugged his shoulders, trying to recall any information. He knew that he hadn't forgotten all of it. But his mind was in no way prepared to start spitting out the facts he had buried in his memory. "I would say I'm very rusty, but some things might come back to me quicker than others."

"Fair. My goal right now is only to find that man-killing flower," Shaelren told him. "An area where I've heard you've got experience."

Kylin's right arm twitched at the thought. "You likely know about the same as I do, if not more as you've been tracking it."

"Tracking it indeed," Shaelren muttered in disgust. "It leaves no trace and apparently can make its scent disappear at will. The dogs are having a hard time picking up on anything. We haven't even gone too far because we keep circling back to the grove where it used to be."

Kylin could offer neither advice or assurance. He and Marta had only stumbled on it by chance. It was miraculous that the dogs could pick up the scent when they returned to fight it, but confusing and frustrating to hear that they couldn't pick up the scent now.

"Tomorrow we'll be venturing out west," Shaelren continued. "The little clues that we were able to pick up indicated that perhaps it was headed that way." He glanced at Vicious, who was fighting Kylin for her head in order pretend that she wanted to innocently get a whiff of the hunting master. "Is she fit to head out?" he asked cautiously.

"She'll have to be," Kylin said flatly, pulling back her head to her chagrin. "She's the only horse I've got. But I got her this far."

Shaelren nodded, not looking confident.

Shaelren had his apprentices up going before the suns had actually peeked over the horizon, much less before it could be seen through the trees.

Despite all of Kylin's frustrations, he had found that sleeping on the ground was quite comforting. He wasn't held at headquarters, or waiting for Rei at Amelia's. He was back out, attending to Ranger duties. He could at least pretend that everything was returning to normal. Sure, regulars typically didn't shadow Shaelren's group, as Shaelren and his apprentices monitored the ecosystem as it pertained to fauna, such as keeping creature populations in check and keeping an eye out for invasive species. But given the circumstances, it wasn't unusual.

Which meant it was easier for Kylin to put aside why he was really sent to Shaelren.

By the time the suns had actually shone their faces, the camp was cleared up and Kylin and the hunters were mounted and heading out. Shaelren placed Kylin and an Elven apprentice up towards the front near him to help keep an ear out for anything.

They didn't stop their ride until after midday, when they had arrived at a small brook that would water their horses. Shaelren took a couple of his more experienced apprentices up into the trees in order to see farther ahead. The rest waited for their return, in silence.

Or, mostly in silence.

While Kylin waited with Bryval, the Elven apprentice, he was approached by one who had barely left boyhood, perhaps even barely left his Ranger apprenticeship. His round face was shining with utter excitement, his shaggy curls half-heartedly tied into a ponytail.

When he spoke, he was just above a whisper, his voice quivering with his ill contained excitement. "I overheard the Master say that you're going to be a beast master apprentice?"

Kylin blinked, trying to process everything in front of him. "Uh, yes, you overheard correctly."

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, for now the boy stared at him with an admiration that made him uncomfortable.

"That is so amazing!" he said, having to drop his voice on the last word in order to not say it at a normal volume. "I thought about doing it myself, but I heard it was so difficult!"

Kylin gave him a slow nod, not sure what to say in response.

Apparently, the young one did not need any encouragement. "So yeah, I had decided that once I became an actual Ranger, I would instead become a hunter. So here I am, two months later! And the Master gave me Bryval as my mentor!" He proudly gestured to the Elf.

Kylin looked over to Bryval, who had a wide eyed mixture of distress and apology on his face.

"My name is Fame by the way," the boy said.

"Kylin," was his response. He paused, then, "I'm sorry- Fame?"

"My parents are big believers in naming their children after the blessing they gave us," Fame said without a hint of embarrassment or exasperation. "So one day, I will be a very famous Ranger." After he said this, he straightened himself to his tallest height -which, next to a half-blood and a full-blooded Elf, was not particularly impressive- and sharp nod while trying not to grin.

"Oh." That was it. Kylin really had no opinion on the matter, and was not looking for anything else. He still couldn't make out what to think of the whole encounter.

But Fame needed little to encourage him to continue.

He took Kylin's "oh" as reason to delve into his siblings, their names, and how they were going to fulfill their own blessings. Thankfully, Bryval cut him off before he could get too far.

"You need to return to your position," Bryval told him in a quieter voice, "and wait quietly for Shaelren to return, or you can give away our location."

"Yes, sir!" Fame breathed out these words and headed back to his spot, occasionally skipping.

Kylin looked back at Bryval, hoping for a bit more of an explanation.

Bryval shrugged helplessly. "He's my first apprentice," he explained ruefully. "And he's the most excitable person I've ever met." He paused, staring off at nothing. "I think Shaelren doesn't like me."

"It can't be that bad," Kylin said. He in part said it for himself, now adding to the fear of being responsible for a young apprentice the fear of being given an apprentice he would have difficulties with.

"He isn't disobedient," Bryval said quickly. "And he's certainly willing to learn. But I haven't had a moment's peace since he's become my apprentice, and if he's not given specific instructions, he's more than willing to make his own for himself without proper consideration." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Nothing more was said between them. Not long after, Shaelren and the ones he brought up with him descended the trees and they were headed off again.

They continued westward, nothing given them any indication of the flower going any other direction.

To Kylin's pleasant surprise, Vicious behaved. He was still careful to keep a firm hand on her reins, especially as her ears were pricked and her head was up, indicating she was very curious in her surroundings. But she made no attempt to bolt on him, ignore his directions, or even buck him off.

As he was keeping an eye on Vicious, making sure she did not make any move that would throw things off, his attention to the sounds around him was partial; he was very glad that Bryval was also there to pick up on things he would otherwise miss.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he pulled Vicious to a stop, frowning. He looked over to Bryval, making sure he wasn't the only one who caught it.

Bryval was also stopped, glancing around him. Out of the corner of Kylin's eye, he saw Shaelren about to ask what they had heard before he stopped himself, listening intently.

Nothing. They heard nothing. Not a single chirp of a bird, not the chatter of the squirrels, not the screeches of insects.

It was all quiet.

Even in the distance, Kylin couldn't hear anything. And it didn't seem as though Bryval was catching anything either. Which meant that the predator was very big, or there were many.

It couldn't have been the flower. Kylin distinctly remembered the sounds of the forest continuing even with the massive carnivorous flower in the midst. It wasn't dobharchus; even though they would make the forest go quiet, they themselves weren't. He or Bryval would hear something.

Another creature came to mind, but he pushed it out of his mind, along with the rising panic at the mere thought. Even so, his heart continued to pound faster, making it difficult to focus. He gripped Vicious's reins tighter. She tossed her head in protest, backing up a few steps. He winced at the sound of her hoofs on the dead leaves.

The hunters were as quietly as possible pulling out weapons. The dogs remained where they were, some even midstep. The hair on their backs was raised and their teeth were bared.

The silence continued on, swelling closer to a climax. At any moment, something was going to happen; something was going to come and attack them. Someone would break formation and chase after whatever predator was nearby. One of the horses would spook and attract the attention of the unknown predator.

Just as the tension seemed to reach its breaking point, noise returned. The sound of birds could be heard again, the squirrels were talking again, and little feet on the ground scampered back to their business.

Kylin released the breath he was holding, his muscle relaxing as his heart finally slowed. The hunters cautiously returned their weapons to their holsters and belts. The dogs unfroze, but the hair on their backs remained standing on end.

Kyin and Bryval nudged their horses forward, going at a slower pace as they made sure that the predator had really left the premises.

Even though the danger appeared to be gone, his mind insisted on trying to solve the mystery of what it was. Or rather, it had already decided what it was and wanted him to dwell on it.

But that would no good, he told himself. That besides, he was in need of studying up on his creatures of the forest again, and other beasts that were found at one point in the Veil. Once he refreshed himself on that, his mind wouldn't be so insistent on thinking of one of worst creatures imaginable.

He clung to this rationale to soothe himself and to use it as a barrier every time he felt his attention drifting.

Thankfully, such an incident did not repeat itself for the rest of the afternoon. As evening drew near, the forest's noise levels increased with all the nocturnal beings waking up and becoming active.

They came to a spot with a little creek and Shaelren motioned for them to stop for the night.

Kylin began to happily dismount, ready to stretch his leg muscles, when he noticed one of the dogs continuing on, as though it didn't hear the command. Its ears were pricked and it was nosing the air as it gingerly walked on. Kylin straightened and clicked for Vicious to walk on to follow the dog. The dog glanced back at him, staring at him questioningly. When it saw that Kylin was following and not giving an order to stop, it turned back with a bit more confidence.

Kylin heard Shaelren mount back up, ordering the others to stay put.

The dog stopped, sniffing the air deeply before dropping its nose to the ground. It started again, walking a bit faster, with a bit more excitement. It came to a stop again at a spot where the forest ground dropped steeply. It growled, remained put until Kylin and Shaelren had caught up.

Kylin got as close to the edge of the soft cliff as he felt comfortable, peering into the gathering darkness. Steep as the drop was, it was only about an eight foot drop. But near the bottom of the drop was a gaping hole in the earth. The hole was big enough to fit two horses side by side, should horses have a mind to travel that far in. With the little light that was left, he could see some slime gleaming on edges of the hole. A strong, disgusting scent wafted out of it, causing him to choke a little.

Stomach sinking, Kylin looked at Shaelren with an expression of knowing dread, an expression that was returned.

Ankhegs.

[nanorelationship]

"You are killing US with YOUR jealousy"

So far I have enlightened the world with my thoughts on jealousy and self-esteem. I want to clear up any misunderstandings that may have some male people thinking that I am targeting only women here. Jealousy and self-esteem issues also can imprison men as well as women. No one is excused from real human emotions. Emotions know no face, color, size or gender. There are two victims here, not just one.

I also feel that I have neglected to reveal how the other party involved in a relationship that suffers from jealousy or self-esteem issues also suffers.

A relationship is a partnership. It is a commitment made between two people, in that we will stand by each other through thick and thin. Unfortunately, when it is a jealousy issue, both parties are effected. We tend to focus on the person that is trapped in the prison of worry, more than the other person that is caught in the line of fire, partly because we need to free that side first, then we can help heal the other.

Well I am now going to share that persons prison of hell as well.

To be accused and mistrusted by the one you love is a hardship and a definite pain that one cannot bear for a long time. They eventually either walk away or take a stand and call out to you, (the attacker) to please stop; to please listen to what you are saying and accusing them of.

Time after time they try so hard to reassure you that they do love you and that they are not interested nor lusting for anyone else. When they try to tell you that it is all in your mind, they risk getting attacked more for defense. It is no doubt a vicious circle. They become paranoid that no matter where they are, you are already convinced that they have betrayed you in some way. They wait for the shoe to drop. Some times it takes a few days, some times it drops immediately. Never the less they have to sit by and worry about when it will drop. They fear that this time they will not be able to say the right thing. They fear we will get even more depressed and irrational with what they say to us. They begin to feel, "damned if they do, and damned if they don`t". I personally hate that feeling. To think that I myself would put someone in that position makes me want to run away faster than Forrest Gump.

The neglect you put on that person through your jealous insecurities is as real to them as your feelings of being trapped in your prison of doubt. There are many scenarios as to why jealousy rises up inside people, but for the innocent ones that really do not ever do anything to trigger that fear inside you, they are the innocent victims. People that have come to the point of identifying their issues and have began to deal with them, please remember the other person that is there with you. They too need special attention, because they have shared your fears and your pain. In a much different way, never the less, they still ache. Jealousy can destroy so many good things in ones lives. It can destroy our mate, through you, it kills the one thing that you love deeply. The worst part about it is, that you allow it. You must stop. Would you take a gun and shoot your mate? NOT!! So then why are you allowing this emotion to torture what is so dear to you? I repeat, as long as your mate is not responsible for your fears or if they have made amends and are trying to make things better, then please understand their pain of being mistrusted. When they see you in pain and they are being told it is because of them, they crumble. Your mate loves you as much as you love them, and to feel they are responsible for your trapped feelings eats them up inside. To see you smile and feel totally loved makes them feel good about themselves in that they are responsible for that smile. That is a good feeling all the way around.

Also be careful not to fall into that habit of being unhappy through jealous feelings. Understand where they are coming from. Are you using them as a reason to get attention? Again, a wrong kind of attention. If you cannot get the right attention you feel you are lacking, then talk to your partner. Do not let jealous emotions take over and confuse what you really are trying to say. Any weakness in your mind is a direct route for negative feelings to travel through. Once they get there, they work very quickly at bringing you down. So be aware of what exactly you are feeling.

I hope that I have at least opened up some thoughts in your minds as to what else is going on in a relationship that is plagued by jealousy. Both sides are equally being torchered and killed. We need to LIVE, LOVE & LAUGH more often with each other. Oh and lets not forget my favorite thing to do…HUGGGGGG!!!!

One thought from my heart to yours:

Say this outloud:

"I am always ready to risk. I am always ready to learn. I am always ready to test my strength, and so I put my worries aside and just live!"

Dorothy Lafrinere Owner/Operator Website- http://www.womensselfesteem.com Weblog- http://www.justblogme.com/Dorothy Forum- http://womenselfesteem.proboards29.com email- dorothy@womensselfesteem.com

[daja-the-hypnokitten]

Jukebox reviews part 29! For context, see my post “A Project”     under this same tag. If you want to see a full list of his EMCSA   stories, they can be found here, sorted alphabetically.And if you want to see some of his drabbles, check out his blog at @jukeboxemcsa

Vanishing Act

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

3/5/2016                                       mc ff

... Seriously, lesson one in "why you should treat your brainwashed playthings with consideration" is so you don't attract unwanted attention. If they're having trouble keeping jobs, etc, SOMEONE is going to wonder, and it's going to make your life difficult. Lesson 2 is - if you're considerate, and they like it, they can help you come up with more lovely things to do with them, of course. But anyway. Drugging someone to control them is never going to be my favourite, and a situation like this where someone's being made to skip on commitments and hurt her friend? I can't get enjoy it as much as I do others. 5/10 spirals. 

 Brand New Me

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

3/12/2016                                     mc ff md

I don't know that I like this. Part of that is due to the use of tulpas here, and where my brain connects tulpas to in the modern hypnokink space. Which isn't fair to judge this story on, but I can't keep from thinking of that. I don't know enough about tulpas otherwise to comment, but in general this is very magic-feeling and not something I can really connect with, and doesn't really feel like mind control as I think of it anyway. 3/10 spirals 

 Factory Girl

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

3/19/2016                                     mc ff

This is a good story. It also feels very directly targeted for a group that isn't me, with the way the Girl(tm) feels like her body is WRONG and she works to make it fit. But that doesn't diminish my enjoyment of it at all. Especially the whole idea of *strawberry* scent softening up Rory so. Look, strawberry as hypnotic is A Thing. Anyway. This is good and lovely and I adore it. 9/10 spirals. 

 Learn to Fly

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

3/26/2016                                     mc mf ff md

Hee, this has a fun twist. I'd *wondered,* and to see it confirmed was delightful. It can be fun when someone's attempts at control backfire, as they do here. It's absolutely magic, but it's a fun application of magic to make someone hypnotic, so I'll take the magic and run with it, and just enjoy how Samantha finds a way to slip the control he's trying to exert. 8/10 spirals 

 Can I Trust You?

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

4/9/2016                                       mc mf ff md fd

... nope. I.. I can't. The abuse of trust of someone admitting to that sort of abuse? I can't. There's a lot of elements that *should* be good, and usually the controller understanding how unethical it is makes it better, but ... not here. It just doesn't. 

 You Go to My Head

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

4/9/2016                                       mc mf fd

Pheremones-as-magic will never be my preferred method, of course, but still. She seems sweet enough, and who knows, maybe they can be happy together. I hope so, as the good deed of helping a new neighbor move in defintely deserves a happy outcome to the resulting control, not an unhappy one. The perspective on the control is nice, but it happens a little fast for my taste, for all the setup is really good. 6/10 spirals 

 Vicious Circles

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

4/16/2016                                     mc

As a resistance play scene, this set up is *hot.* And folk who enjoy denial, the sensation of being on that edge of orgasm but never allowed to cum? They'll probably like this one rather a lot. It's such a vivid depiction of someone who's just trapped in a loop she can't escape, so aroused she can't make herself stop the things that feel so good. It gets inside her head well, and describes the sensations  and their effect on her delightfully. 8/10 spirals. 

 Judas Kiss

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

4/23/2016                                     mc ff

If you like tech-as-magic, the sort of tech that can just overwrite parts of someone's brain, of someone being forced to betray their friends even when they don't want to, until they find they do want to because of the overwriting, then you'll probably like this story. As I don't, it isn't for me. 3/10 spirals. 

 Heavy Breathing

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

4/30/2016                                     mc ff

There's a bit of a theme of betrayal to this set of reviews, isn't there? Brand New Me, of a sort, Can I Trust You, Judas Kiss, this one ... not my favourite, betrayal. I get that other people find it hot, but still. And the way it's framed here is even more a "no thank you" for me. 

 Rosewater

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

5/7/2016                                       mc ff

Anita Blake as trashy Fantasy? *Ouch,* Jukebox, you wound me. (Ok, objectively, especially the ones later in the series, you're right. But like, it was such a "oh, wait, I have a THING for Vampires, don't I?" series for me. And actually that I have a thing for VOICES, too, given how Hamilton describes Jean Claude's voice.... ANYWAY). But besides that, this is just *cute* and sweet, while also being hot. The idea of a single floral scent being so captivating, so hypnotic... it's a good image. I like it, though the flower I think of is a different one - lavender, for *reasons* - though I do hope Manisha has anchored it very specifically to her being the one to use the scent, given how common of a scent rosewater can be in some spaces/times, when it's in style. The clear love between the two, though, and the joy they take, the care? This is a Good Story. 10/10 spirals.

[amethyst-noir]

Writing a plotless little emotional h/c thing just for myself.

It's the first time in about a month I put one word after another into a worddoc and it feels... nice.

[thedreamermusing]

Harry identified with and reluctantly admired Snape even before ‘The Prince’s Tale’

So, 'Albus Severus' is admittedly is a controversial name in fandom due to Snape's own dubious morality. And people also think that Harry going from hatred to admiration of Snape so quickly is unrealistic. But, that's not true. There's no doubt that Harry hated Snape, but amid that hatred, there was also reluctant admiration and even identification with Snape. Let's see a few examples:

Harry did not speak; he felt that to say anything might be dangerous. He was sure he had just broken into Snape’s memories, that he had just seen scenes from Snape’s childhood, and it was unnerving to think that the crying little boy who had watched his parents shouting was actually standing in front of him with such loathing in his eyes. . . .

Probably the first time Harry is looking at Snape as anything more than his hated Potions professor. But it is still significant considering Harry's own abusive childhood.

His reaction to Snape's Worst Memory:

What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him — it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.

His immediate reaction after watching Snape's memory is to empathise with Snape, because he knows what it's like to be bullied in front of a crowd.

We also get hints of how similar Snape and Harry are. Even Hermione comments on it:

Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff —” “Well,” said Hermione, “I thought he sounded a bit like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yes, when you were telling us what it’s like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn’t just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn’t that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?”

Hermione comments on how they both sound similar. Snape and Harry do have a lot in common as we will find out later, but this is one of the first hints of another character noticing it.

But imo, the largest culmination of Harry's reluctant admiration is in the case Snape's old textbook, when he called himself the Half-blood Prince. This is teen Snape; Snape as Lily knew him, Snape without all the baggage that he has with Harry. And what is Harry's opinion of him?

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way. Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princes copy of Advanced Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that was earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Harry's admiration is practically dripping through the pages. He's staying up at night reading the book, admiring the boy who was so clever.

One of the most interesting lines is also this:

“My dad used this spell,” said Harry. “I — Lupin told me.” This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a wonderful possibility occurred to him. Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be —?

Harry is so attached to Snape's old textbook that he wishes it was his father. Harry is hungry for father figures and the fact that he elevates the Prince to this kind of figure from just his textbook is significant. It shows the lost potential between Harry and Snape. Who is the Prince but a younger Snape? It shows that had Snape been a little less bitter and damaged, he could have been a mentor figure for Harry.

These two have so much in common: their lives are defined by Voldemort and they're not truly free until he's dead, they're both half-bloods who grew up in the muggle world, they both suffered abusive childhoods, they were both bullied, they're both sarcastic and dry, they both can get very vicious (Snape more so obviously), they're both completely loyal to Dumbledore, they're both brave and stubborn as hell. I truly believe that had Snape not been so blind, he could have been a great father figure for Harry simply because of how similar they are and how much they could relate to each other.

He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn — Harry’s stomach churned — how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would he confiscate or destroy the book that had taught Harry so much…the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen…He could not…

Harry thinks of the Prince as a friend and guide.

“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It’s not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!”

“I don’t believe this,” said Hermione. “You’re actually defending —“

“I’m not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I’ve got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can’t blame the Prince, he hadn’t written ‘try this out, it’s really good’ — he was just making notes for himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else…”

Even after 'Sectumsempra', Harry defends the Prince like this. As a side note, I also think that Harry's relationship with the Prince somewhat mirrors Lily's relationship with Snape. They both admired and loved the boy who was so clever and imaginative and were willing to blind themselves as that boy went deeper into the dark side.

He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself dwelling upon Dumbledore’s inexcusable trust in Snape…but as Hermione had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been taken in just the same…in spite of the increasing nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had helped him so much..

This is after Snape killed Dumbledore, and Harry's primary feeling about the Prince is one of betrayal. Ultimately, I believe Harry's relationship with the Prince is pivotal in his understanding of Snape, and I firmly believe that this also informed his decision to name his son after Snape. After watching Snape's dying memories, Harry's admiration of the Prince returned and merged with his feelings towards Snape. It is no coincidence that the chapter revealing Snape's true allegiance is called 'The Prince's Tale', telling us that Snape truly is the same Prince Harry admired and wished was his father.

Harry's feelings towards Snape after the Prince's tale is obvious. Throughout Snape's memories, he identifies with him, not James. He immediately notices that James has an air of being loved and adored while Snape conspicuously lacks it. He cannot bring himself to watch Snape's Worst Memory again. After watching the memories, he identifies with both Snape and Tom Riddle as 'the abandoned boys' who were outcasts and only found their home in Hogwarts.

In short, I believe Harry's admiration of Snape was not sudden or inexplicable but something he always reluctantly felt. He identified with Snape even when he hated him. Once he saw Snape's memories in his entirety, he understood and identified with them even more because Harry has been in Snape's shoes. He's been a dark-haired, abused, bullied, half-blood outcast. And he knows how hard it is to be brave in those circumstances. While the readers might have trouble understanding why Snape would have a child named after him, Harry doing so is not a surprise.

[13uswntimagines]

Family’s Hard (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

Request: part 2 of the fic with Kristie that you post today! Maybe something with the r and Kristie both getting call for the national camp and we see a bit of what happen at camp with mal. pt 2. Maybe with both the reader and Kristine on the USENT roster and the fallout with Amal because of the reader being there. part 2 of the reader and mal meet up again joined by the team

Pt. One 

You had never been more unhappy while staring at a plate full of pancakes in your entire existence. You loved your typical practice meal (and your girlfriend of almost a year’s hand on your thigh while you ate it), but you weren’t enjoying the disapproving glare you were getting from across the table. She had been like this the moment you stepped off the plane, and you feared she wouldn’t stop until camp was over. 

It wasn’t like you decided to sit at this table to annoy Mal. Kristie wanted to sit with Sam, and you weren’t about to brave the dining room all by your little lonesome (plus you liked the team's Tower of Power and enjoyed watching the siblings banter).

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, pushing your chocolate chip pancakes around the plate, and keeping your eyes trained on your fork. 

“You ok?” Your girlfriend asked, her lips caressing your ear. You didn’t miss the way your older sister's nose scrunched at the looseness between you and the older midfielder. 

“Just tired. The flight from Houston was super long,” You mumbled, shrugging lightly. 

“You sure?” Kristie nudged your cheek with her nose and squeezed your thigh. You had been jittery since you left your shared apartment in Houston to head for camp and no amount of reassuring from your girlfriend seemed to be helping. 

“Psh. The flight home from France was exhausting, and then we had to get ready for good morning America. That was crazy, right Sammy?” Mal said with a wicked smile, completely cutting you off. Your mouth clicked shut and Kristie squeezed your thigh again (her jaw working overtime to prevent the scathing comment from leaving the tip of her tongue). 

Mal had been impossible since you stepped foot into the hotel the USWNT had commandeered for camp. She had swung between outright bitchy and underhanded reminders of Jill's preference of her over you all day and Kristie was getting sick of it. Your shoulders slouched a little more with every remark, every jab clouding over a little bit more of your sunshine. 

“That was pretty crazy,” Sam nodded, watching you and her sister carefully. She was trying to run as much interference as she could, but it seemed your sister wanted to make you as uncomfortable as possible. Almost like she was trying to drive you off the team. 

“Definitely not as crazy as that party right after we won. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much champagne in my entire life. Not even after we beat Texas,” Mal added, and you shivered at the memory, wilting under her glare. 

It was your freshman year (and coincidentally Mal’s senior year), and the first time the two of you had ever really played against each other. UCLA decimated your team and took over a frat house to celebrate. From what you heard, it was one of the biggest parties Texas A&M had ever seen. 

Kristie sighed, wrapping the arm that was on your leg around your back, rubbing soothing circles. You leaned into the touch, still playing with the food on your plate, trying to hold your tongue and not rise to Mal’s prodding. 

“From what I hear there was a lot of alcohol after Houston won the challenge cup,” Sam nodded, sharing a look with her sister and side-eyeing her friend. 

“That was just beer, Sammy. It wasn’t as classy because no one cares about an arbitrary chaos cup win, especially after we won the World Cup. It’s all about scale,” Mal continued, completely ignoring the glare Kristie had pointed at her, enjoying the way you were squirming in your chair. 

You shoved your plate away, giving up on eating. You didn’t want to be here. 

“I'm sure. I’m gonna go. The uniform staff wanted to see me anyway,” You mumbled, just loud enough for Kristie to hear you (or so you thought). 

Mal’s vicious smile grew. She just couldn’t seem to help herself when it came to you. You were always chasing after her, and this time she had done what you couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to give that up yet. 

“I’d tell you to switch names, but all I can suggest is to pick a number you can actually live up to,” She sneered. 

Your entire being froze and you blinked owlishly at your older sister (taking comfort in how Kristie's arm tightened around you). 13 had been your number since high school, but you knew that Alex was a vet and you weren’t stupid (or disrespectful) enough to even dream of trying to take it. You knew you would never be even close to the level of Alex Morgan. 

You had accepted that and Instead chosen a different number, one you were proud to wear. You had no control over the last name on your jersey (until Kristie and you decided you wanted to get married, if you wanted to get married, and that was still pretty far off). 

“Come on. They wanted to do a quick check-in with me too,” Kristie said, standing and dragging you with her out of the room, her eyes sending daggers towards your sister. She was done watching you collapse back into yourself. 

****

Sam stared at Mal’s Cheshire Cat grin, her mouth agape. She didn’t understand why your older sister was being like this, or how she could continue eating as though she didn’t just rip you apart. (And at this rate someone had to stop her before Kristie killed her). 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam said, leaning forward and resting both elbows on the table. 

Mal shrugged, taking another sip of her orange juice. “What? I’m just being realistic,”

If you didn’t want to hear stories about their triumph at the World Cup, or how awesome the party was afterward, you could just find yourself a new seat (and take your girlfriend with you- you always did have to outdo her). 

“You were a little harsh babe,” Rose said softly, patting the forward's hand. 

Sam scoffed loudly, shaking her head. “She practically crumbled under that last comment,”

It was painful to watch your shy bean self withdraw back into the shell her sister worked so hard to crack. Even if you had Kristie here to support you, she wasn’t sure how long you would last without bursting into tears or getting into a screaming match with your sister. You were under enough pressure as it was. 

“She’s just overly sensitive. If she wants to play in the big leagues she’s going to have to learn to stand up for herself,” Mal rolled her eyes. 

It was a going joke in your family that Mal got the brains and beauty, while you just got the leftover emotions. Ever since you were kids, she had been the extroverted one saving you from bullies and being the “good example” that her parents wanted her to be. But this was her thing, and she didn’t want you horning in on it. (It was also a slight protective instinct too. She would rather be the one giving you shit than the media. They were ruthless and you would probably never forgive her. The road to hell was paved with good intentions after all.)

Sam sighed, taking in how Mal’s eyes tighten just a touch beneath her nonchalance. As much as she wanted to pretend she didn’t care about you, it was obvious that she did. The questions now were if she was willing to have a change of attitude and if she would even be able to repair the damage she had already done. 

“Just be careful with how far you push her, alright?” Sam said thoughtfully. 

Mal rolled her eyes again, any care she may have felt disappearing. “I know what I’m doing Sam,” 

“I really hope you do, because I remember what it was like to always be trying to live up to your older sister and how difficult that was. And Kristie knew when to cut me some slack,” Sam said, raising her eyebrow at the younger woman. 

She really hoped she could get through to her before Mal lost you, and Kristie kicked her head off. 

*****

You sighed into Kristie's lips, enjoying the way her hips pinned you to the wall and her tongue explored your mouth. You weren’t one for public displays of affection, but she had dragged you into an abandoned corner of the hotel after your sister's clear display of disdain. 

You guessed an upside to being at camp with Mal was your girlfriend's desire to cheer you up. You always responded better to physical contact (which was why Kristie used it to help you calm down all the time). 

You hummed as the hands under your shirt made their way up to cup your cheeks, her fingers tangling in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. She let the kiss continue for another minute, before pulling back, so her lips were just barely ghosting over your own and your foreheads were touching. 

You futilely tried to push off the wall and chase her lips, only for her to chuckle and pull back so you couldn’t reach, keeping you pinned with her hips. 

“Ah, no more kisses until you say it,” She mumbled, her breath fanning across your lips. 

You whined. You loved how supportive Kristie was, but you didn’t want to do this right now. You didn’t want to go through your normal reaffirmation routine. Not after the shots, Mal had taken at you. 

“But-“

Kristie chucked at the keening whine again, shaking her head (both at how adorable your pout was and because she was standing her ground). She learned a long time ago that the best way to stop your mental spiraling was for you to say how worth it you were. “No buts. To get what you want you gotta say it,” 

You huffed, I ally opening your eyes to look into Kristie’s determined blue. She raised her eyebrow at you. 

“I’m an amazing person, no matter what anyone says,” You mumbled, looking away from your girlfriend. She hummed, using her thumb to tilt your chin back up. 

“And?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips. Your pout deepened. You were set to start and Mal had made you feel bad about it. Now Kristie was trying to get you to admit that you deserved the opportunity. 

The two of you stared at each other for a long minute, and you debated in trying to get back to the kissing again, to not say the last part of your mantra. Kristie's thumb ran soothingly over your cheek as if she was reading your mind. “Come on babe,” she said softly. 

You bit your lip, finally giving in. “I shouldn’t feel guilty about opportunities I receive,”

“Good,” Kristie smiled, leaning back in to connect your lips. You smiled back into the kiss. Maybe things weren’t so bad if you got this treatment after your sister was mean to you, even if Kristie was trying to get you to finally confront her about her behavior. “And for the record, you can always say you’ll have a cooler last name later,” 

*****

This was getting out of hand. Very out of hand. You hit the ground again, your face scraping against the turf after another bad tackle. You groaned, pushing yourself up off the turf and brushing yourself off, ignoring the hand of the defender in front of you in favor of taking the hand your girlfriend offered. 

Kristie glared at the blond defender, very pissed off that she was pushing you so hard. “Fucking watch it Sonnett, another tackle like that and I’ll beat your ass myself,” Your girlfriend growled, brushing a stray piece of turf off your back. 

Emily shrugged, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. “Just trying to test the Rookie. Need to make sure she can handle a little pressure,” 

She liked you, but with the pressure, Mal was putting n you, she thought that they were all going to go hard. To show you exactly how difficult this game could be and how much you needed to work to be on their level. 

“I think Mal is doing enough of that on her own,” Kristie raised her eyebrow at the woman, still rubbing the turf off your back and cringing at the new burn. If this hadn’t been a teammate’s doing, she probably would have killed them by now. Ripped them limb from limb for touching you, but you didn’t need that. You needed her support and not her overprotectiveness. 

“She actually needs to be able to play against Canada,” Sam said, patting her back. Emily shook her head. Mal was right. She would rather be the one to go hard on you and prepare you than some random defender who didn’t care at all. 

As far as she was concerned, Mal’s plan was still in effect and you were going to have to pull some trick to get past her again. 

****

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Kristie threaded a ball through the gap between Becky and Julie, straight to you. You turned, taking advantage of the gap in the backline, dribbling across to try and get a clear shot. 

You didn’t see that gap collapsing. You didn’t see Emily and Midge racing towards you until it was too late. There was a loud crunch as you were caught between the two defenders, and tumbled to the ground. 

The reaction from the rest of the team was instant. Kristie raced over, followed closely by Sam. Both women kneeling down next to you, trying to get you to roll over. It seemed that another blue blur was already laying into the two defenders. 

“Lay the fuck off my sister,” Mal yelled, shoving Sonnett back from where her shifting form was standing over you. 

Emily held her hands up in defense, stumbling away from you. “I’m just trying to keep the intensity up, exactly like you are,” 

Mal growled audibly, stepping up to the taller defender and wrapping her fist into her shirt. “It’s different. She’s my sister and I’m the only one who gets to fuck with her. Got it,” she said her voice deadly calm. 

Emily nodded rapidly, her eyes wide as Mal straightened her shirt, patting her shoulder. Emily backed away slowly, her hands still extended, terrified that Mal (and your girlfriend) would decide to actually kill her. 

Mal nodded once the offending defenders were far enough away from you, before turning in your direction. 

You were finally on your feet, shifting awkwardly and rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled as she approached. 

She smiled, pulling you into a very strange hug.“You got it, kid. I love you, even if you’re not as good as me yet,”

She let you go and winked. You smiled and trotted off back to your position, warmth filling you. Sure you weren’t on the best terms, but you were sisters and the act was like a white flag. A truce. 

Kristie caught Mal’s arms as she passed. “Learn to lay off a little bit. I don’t want to have to hurt you,”

Mal nodded. You were family mad the only one who got to mess with you was her. She would kill anyone else who tried and she was glad you had gained two protectors. 

[cherryfabi]

Angels Like You- 1

A/N: Hi! This will be a new series. It is inspired by Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus. I hope you like it! Feedback is always welcome. 

Warnings: Cheating, smut, daddy kink. I think that's all.

Word Count: 2.5k

It all starts with a lie. People are used to saying them. At times they are necessary, but we find ourselves in trouble when more and more derive from them, creating a vicious circle.

It is foolish and irrational to believe that lies will never be known.

And for the past six months, Harry and Y/N have been doing just that. They’ve been lying. They've been seeing each other despite the fact that they both knew they shouldn't and couldn't, but they did anyway. We humans love the forbidden. We love everything that we know we cannot have. Every human falls into temptation, always. Harry and Y/N were no exception to this.

Both of them met when Y/N’s boss, Jeff, asked her to accompany him to an important dinner, she agreed. What she didn't know was that she was going to find the man of her dreams there, but unfortunately, he was already married.

It was none other than Mr. Harry Styles who Jeff was meeting that night. A serious, wealthy, attractive, and hardworking individual. He was well-known all over the world because he owned major corporations, hotels, and other businesses.

It is safe to say that he is everything a woman wishes for in a man. Every woman wanted to be with him. Everyone loved him because, after all, what's not to love about him? He’s successful, kind, respectful and handsome. What is there not to love? Well, maybe there is something... he's not who he appears to be.

Nothing is ever how it seems, and Harry is no exception; Y/N knows this better than no other person in the world.

It was late at night, and Harry was lying next to Y/N in her bed, talking about anything and everything. His business, his marriage, his life, and his issues. She cuddled up to him and listened to him. One of Harry's favorite things about her is how good of a listener she is. He also knows she’s trustable and nonjudgmental.

They lay in silence after Harry is finished, just enjoying each other's company.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/N asks him.

“You.” He answers immediately.

“Me?” He gives her a nod and she giggles.

“I’m thinking about all the things I want to do to you right now.” He says.

He kisses Y/N on the lips, she smiles and wishes it would never end.

“Let me get you out of these pajamas, princess.” Harry whispered in her ear.

Y/N quickly stands up and lets him get rid of her clothes.

He looks at her with hunger in his eyes and she can’t help but giggle a bit from how he’s looking at her.

“You look beautiful, angel.” He says. “Tits so nice, baby. So hard and perky for me.”

He leans down to reach her breasts and sucks on them. Harry loves her breasts, he always tells her how much he loves them.

“Could spend all day on your tits alone, but I know you're aching between your legs.” He says. “Right?”

“Yes, daddy.” Harry hated being called ‘daddy’, but that changed soon after the word slipped out of Y/N’s lips. Now, he loves being called that, but only if it is Y/N who’s saying it, otherwise he would find it weird.

He starts to kiss his way down to her crotch.

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re soaking, love.” He says once he reaches her pussy. “You smell so good,”

Just when he was about to have a taste of her, she interrupted him.

“Why do you still have clothes on? It's not fair, I’m the only one naked.” She pouts.

“Can you just let me do what I want?” He says. “You know what? I’ll just fuck you. I won’t even waste my time getting you ready, you’re already dripping.” He says, taking his clothes off.

His cock springs up hitting his abdomen. His tip swollen and red.

Seconds later she watches him position himself between her. He takes one of her legs and places them on his shoulder.

“This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, daddy.” Y/N answered. “Please, daddy, fuck me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, so tell me if it hurts.” She nods. “Love when you’re a good girl for me, makes me feel so good when you’re a good girl for me. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

He stares at her pussy for some seconds before slamming into her causing her breath to hitch, and her walls to clench so tight around him she feels her pussy is pushing him out from the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, nearly pushing my cock out.” He moans. “Clench around me.” He orders.

She listens to him and clenches her tight cunt around him. His trusts get harder by each passing second. He pushed his hips in a constant rhythm, pushing into her roughly. The thrusts got so rough that every time he’d thrust into her, the headboard would hit the wall with a loud noise.

“This is all you are to me, just a tight hole that I can fuck.” He moves one of his fingers to her clit and starts moving it in circular motions. Her moans get louder, and Harry starts to push into her faster and deeper, so fast that she can’t control the noises coming out of her mouth. The pleasure was too much for her and she tried to close her legs, but she didn’t succeed since Harry removed his finger from her clit and pressed her thighs really far apart. She knows that if he continued with this, she wouldn’t last too long and Harry would not let her come. It’s too soon, he would obviously not let her come just yet.

He starts circling her clit faster and harsher than before and she closes her eyes with pleasure. Even though she can’t see him, she knows what face he has right now. Eyebrows furrowed while he stares where their bodies connect. His breath getting uneven and his grunts increasing, meaning he’s not going to last either.

“I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still so tight. Can barely move.” He moans.

He then starts to circle her clit again, trying to make her come.

In no time she feels that familiar build in her stomach. Her legs start to shake uncontrollably, fighting so hard to not come. She knows she can't come, not when he hasn't explicitly told her that she has permission to do so.

“Daddy, I’m about to come. Can I come?” She asks between moans, not sure if she could take it anymore.

He removes his finger from her clit. “Come,” He says.

So she does, she comes immediately after he says the word.

Soon after she feels him twitch inside of her and hears him grunt so deeply before talking to her.

“I can come inside of you, right?” He asks. She barely registers what he’s saying but nonetheless, she nods.

He thrusts into her slowly two more times before he spills all his warm come inside of her.

He stays inside of her for some seconds before slowly pulling out.

“You did so good, princess.” He tells her. She knows his orgasm hit him just as amazing as hers by the tone of his voice.

He lays back beside her. She cuddles him while they try to recover their breaths.

Y/N enjoys the comfortable silence there is, but she also does not like it. Everytime they finish fucking, she feels guilt. She feels guilty for messing around with a married man. Sure, she is aware that his marriage is failing and that Harry is dissatisfied with his current wife, but Y/N is also aware that this is not morally correct. She is well aware that she should not be doing this. And the ring on his left hand is proof of it.

She also feels pain, though. See, this is the thing about their affair: they both knew they had to keep whatever they had a secret. They couldn't reveal what was going on between them to the rest of the world. It would have been damaging for both of their reputations. She wished they could show the world how happy they were together, but they were unable to do so. Nonetheless, she wished for it.

Both he and she have enjoyed their secret relationship, of course, to different extents. Y/N knew Harry was only interested in her company and the incredible sex they shared, but Y/N fell for him, she knew the feeling was not reciprocal. She didn’t exactly know how to put into words what she felt for him, but whatever it was, she knew that this feeling was just one-sided. Whatever feelings she had for him were irrelevant at the end of the day; they couldn't be together for more than one reason.

“Harry?” She breaks the silence, he hums in response. “What are we? What am I to you?”

Harry turns to look at her.

"Y/N, I'm married, you know we can't be together even if I wanted to."

"Even if you wanted to?" She repeats. "So even if you weren't married, you still wouldn't want to be with me?" She gets out of bed and puts on her clothes.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N. Don't put words I didn't say in my mouth."

"Yes, you may not have said them, but isn't that the truth?" She sighed.

He doesn't respond and this infuriates her.

“I’m taking that as if I am just a good fuck to you.” She answers. He turns to look away. “I’m sick of this, Harry. I’m tired of the role I play in your life. I’m tired of the lies; I think we should stop this, we shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me happy at the moment, I don’t want to lose you.” Harry spoke.

“You’re unbelievable! You're married, Harry! Right now, you should be with her, making your wife happy, and she should be making you happy as well, not me. You’re using me, and I'm not going to put up with whatever we've got right now.”

“How come you’re bringing this up now? We’ve been doing this for almost seven months now, and you have never complained about it, what’s different now?” He’s mad now too.

“If you want to stay with me, then divorce her. You always tell me you’re unhappy with her, then divorce her. I want a stable relationship; I'm tired of playing games; I want a normal relationship.”

“Y/N, you know I cannot give you what you’re asking for.”

“Then go, Harry. Get out of my house. Clearly you are never going to give me what I want, I’m done wasting my time.”

Harry sighed, knowing that there was nothing else he could do or say to make it better.

At the end of the day, she was right. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. So, really, what else could be done? Both of them stood in different places in their lives, and there was no way they could’ve made it work.

They both knew their relationship would end eventually, but neither expected it to end this way, on this day. Their relationship had ended for good; it was the most natural thing that could have happened.

Harry deep inside always knew that he didn’t deserve Y/N. He knew she deserves someone who would give her their entire love, someone who did not keep her a secret, she deserved someone much better than him... but he was too selfish to admit this.

“If that is your final decision, I will respect it. Bye, Y/N.”

And this is what Y/N meant when she said that she knows him and knows that he is not what people think he is. She knows that the only thing he cares about is himself, no one else, even if he tells you otherwise. And this is just what he has done. He’s trying to make her feel guilty for the decision she just made, but she will not let this affect her because she knows that he is as guilty as she is.

Harry might seem like a good and wise man, but on the inside he is a misery.

Y/N knows that he hurts people without remorse. And she has just experienced this firsthand.

Now all she has left to do is move on from this and live the normal life she used to have before she met Harry.

___

It's been two months since Y/N saw Harry for the last time. Two months since Y/N lies alone in her bed, not knowing anything about him. Two months since they shared their last kiss. Two months had passed since they called it quits.

After the breakup, Y/N is doing the best she can be. A breakup is never easy, but theirs was even worse. It was even harder for her to overcome because it was full of secrets, lies, and toxicity. But right now she’s alright. She has realized that she likes the life she has right now, there are no secrets, no lies… she likes it way better, but a part of her still misses him.

She deeply regrets getting with a married man. But on the other hand, she does not regret having met him. With him, she lived one of the best months of her life. She got to know a side of herself that if it weren't for Harry, she might never have known. Not everything with Harry was so bad at the end of it all.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.” Jeff said to her.

“Yes?”

“Come in and take a seat.” Jeff said, indicating Y/N to come inside of his office. “So do you remember Mr. Styles?”

When Y/N heard his surname, a last name she thought she'd never hear again, she tensed up. “I do.”

“Good, well, he was just talking to me a few moments ago and said he needed an assistant, and I immediately thought of you.” He gave a warm smile. “I think you're a fantastic assistant, and you'll make a lot more money with him than you are here. He's also an amazing boss. What do you think? I believe this would be a fantastic opportunity for you.”

“But I’m your assistant.” Was all she managed to say.

“Don’t worry, at the moment I don’t think I need one, but he does. What do you think? Would you be interested?

Y/N knew that this would be a great opportunity, and she would have an amazing salary, but was it worth it? She was well aware that Harry and her were not on the best terms, but she knew that this job was a great opportunity.

“Sure, I’ll take it.” She said.

[bloody-bee-tea]

A cat’s tail

This is just a soft, domestic continuation of A bunny’s kiss that wouldn’t leave me alone.

When Jiang Cheng wakes up, he takes a moment to simply bask in the warmth of the bed, his eyes still closed against the daylight that’s already falling through the window. It is only when he curls towards where Lan Xichen should be that he blearily opens an eye, because Lan Xichen is decidedly not in bed.

Or, well, he is, but he is in his rabbit form.

Jiang Cheng can’t even pretend that he is too sad about that, because Lan Xichen in his rabbit form is still one of the cutest things he has seen and it immediately reminds him of all the times Jiang Cheng spend cuddling Spot in the clearing.

If he isn’t already as relaxed as he can get, he damn well would be now.

Jiang Cheng sighs and curls around Lan Xichen, using the tail that was already slung around Lan Xichen to bring him closer to his chest, and he can’t help the lovesick smile on his face when Lan Xichen’s tiny adorable nose twitches.

“How are you so cute?” Jiang Cheng whispers as he carefully cups Lan Xichen’s tiny body with his hand before he drifts off into sleep again.

When he wakes up the next time, Lan Xichen is back in his human form, but still blessedly close, Jiang Cheng’s tail still slung around his middle, though it can’t wrap around twice like before.

“Good morning,” Lan Xichen mumbles, leaning down to nip first at Jiang Cheng’s ears and then press a lingering, soft kiss to his lips.

“Morning,” Jiang Cheng gives back, shuffling closer to Lan Xichen and his wonderful warmth. “You changed during the night,” he then tells Lan Xichen, who—despite them being together for almost a year now—blushes adorably.

“I thought you wouldn’t notice,” Lan Xichen admits, even though he damn well knows that Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind.

He loves Lan Xichen, in rabbit form or not. It makes no difference to Jiang Cheng.

“’Course I notice,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and pulls Lan Xichen that little bit closer before he drags his cheek over the soft fur on Lan Xichen’s ears.

Lan Xichen chuckles slightly and puts a hand on Jiang Cheng’s tail, stroking it in slow, measured strokes, sending a shiver up and down Jiang Cheng’s back.

“Mng,” Jiang Cheng intelligently says, and the steady motion is enough to almost drag him back down into sleep.

It’s certainly enough to make him purr loudly enough that almost the entire bed vibrates.

Jiang Cheng lets it continue for almost half an hour, safely cocooned in the warm bed and Lan Xichen’s presence, before he blinks his eyes open at Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen makes an unhappy sound when he notices Jiang Cheng’s eyes on him and to appease him Jiang Cheng nudges his cheek with his nose.

“What’s your obsession with my tail?” Jiang Cheng whispers against his soft skin there and Lan Xichen makes a questioning sound, so Jiang Cheng elaborates. “You know I can purr without you stroking it, right?” he wants to know and frowns when Lan Xichen sighs.

“Yeah, I know,” he admits and then gives Jiang Cheng a cheeky smile before he scratches his scalp, eliciting another round of purrs from Jiang Cheng.

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng admonishes him, after allowing it for far too long, but he will not allow Lan Xichen to distract him from this.

Jiang Cheng has been wondering about this for far too long now.

“You like it,” Lan Xichen shoots back and Jiang Cheng smiles at him again.

“I love it,” he freely admits, but then narrows his eyes at Lan Xichen. “But that still won’t distract me enough to forget about my question. So tell me, what’s the fascination with my tail?” he asks again and Lan Xichen pulls back a bit, not much, but it’s enough to let in some cold air between them.

“I’m not?” Lan Xichen tries and Jiang Cheng snorts.

“Yeah, right. Is that why it’s always wrapped around you? Especially when you’re in your rabbit form? Because you don’t care about my tail?” he asks and then teasingly tries to retract his tail from where it’s still slung around Lan Xichen’s middle.

When Lan Xichen’s hand shoots out to stop the motion, Jiang Cheng gives him a wicked smile.

“You don’t care, huh?”

Lan Xichen is still for a moment before he groans and buries his face in Jiang Cheng’s neck.

“Okay, fine, I care,” he then says, a clear ‘Are you happy now’ in his tone, but Jiang Cheng is not.

It’s still not an explanation.

“Tell me why?” he gently prods Lan Xichen, who doesn’t come out from his hiding place.

“Do I have to?” Lan Xichen asks. “It’s a stupid reason.”

“All the more reason to tell me,” Jiang Cheng softly says and presses a kiss to every inch of Lan Xichen’s face that he can reach.

Mostly, he gets a lot of fur from Lan Xichen’s ear, but Jiang Cheng isn’t deterred in his mission.

“Ugh, fine,” Lan Xichen says when Jiang Cheng reaches that ticklish spot right at the base of Lan Xichen’s ear.

“I’m all ears,” Jiang Cheng says and swivels his own ears for good measure, too.

Even though Lan Xichen definitely cannot see that, he still bites out a “You’re the worst,” into Jiang Cheng’s neck.

“Don’t even pretend, you love me,” Jiang Cheng shoots back without missing a beat and he’s finally rewarded with Lan Xichen looking up at him.

“I do,” Lan Xichen whispers and presses a kiss to the underside of Jiang Cheng’s chin.

“Then tell me. You have been all about my tail from the very beginning. If you don’t explain, I might start to believe that you just love me for my tail,” Jiang Cheng teasingly says, because he definitely knows that Lan Xichen loves him for more than just that.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lan Xichen predictably chides him and nips at his chin, not that it is much of a punishment.

When Lan Xichen falls silent again, Jiang Cheng waits him out. He already agreed he would tell Jiang Cheng the reason, so he most certainly will.

“When your tail swishes around, you’re agitated,” Lan Xichen finally lowly says and Jiang Cheng frowns. “Your mood comes first, I know that, but when you swish your tail like that it only enhances your bad mood and then it becomes a vicious circle.”

Jiang Cheng nods, because he knows that, but he didn’t think someone else would notice it, too.

“But when I’m sleeping on your tail, or when it’s wrapped around me like this, you can’t swish it and that means you almost always relax,” Lan Xichen goes on and Jiang Cheng has to hide his smile in Lan Xichen’s hair because he’s sure it’s too lovesick to be out in the open.

It would probably ruin his reputation if anyone but Lan Xichen saw him like that.

“So you force me to relax,” Jiang Cheng says once he’s sure his voice is steady and Lan Xichen moves his head so he can blink up at him.

“I don’t like it when you’re stressed and unhappy. I never have. I couldn’t do much as a rabbit, but I certainly could do that.”

“Did it never occur to you that maybe just your presence was enough?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and he knows the answer is no when Lan Xichen turns bright red.

“It cannot possibly be this easy,” Lan Xichen protests, hand still protectively on Jiang Cheng’s tail.

“But it most certainly is,” Jiang Cheng whispers, just as he tilts Lan Xichen’s head up to capture his lips in a soft kiss. “It’s exactly as easy as that,” Jiang Cheng then mumbles, and drops kisses all over Lan Xichen’s flushed face.

“Stop it,” Lan Xichen whines, but there’s a laugh in his voice, so Jiang Cheng does not stop his assault.

It’s only when Lan Xichen puts both his hands on Jiang Cheng’s cheeks that he finally gives up.

“Stop it,” Lan Xichen reiterates but Jiang Cheng only smiles at him.

“But I’m all relaxed now,” Jiang Cheng gives back, tightening his tail around Lan Xichen’s middle and Lan Xichen groans.

“I knew I should have never told you,” he complaints but he leans in for another kiss, so he really can’t be that upset at all.

“You should tell me everything,” Jiang Cheng argues and then tucks Lan Xichen into the curve of his body again. “Especially things you notice about me. It makes me feel very special.”

“You are very special,” Lan Xichen immediately agrees as he rests his hand on Jiang Cheng’s chest, right over his heart. “You are very special to me.”

“And you’re very special to me,” Jiang Cheng gives back without hesitation. “So don’t even pretend that you don’t feel the most safe all wrapped up in my tail. You’re a flight animal, human side or not. You’re instincts are still there, especially in your rabbit form. But you’re always relaxed when my tail is wrapped around you.”

“Because I know you’ll protect me,” Lan Xichen mutters, and tilts his head so that he can press a lingering kiss to Jiang Cheng’s pulse point. “Nothing to fear for me when you’re around.”

“That is true,” Jiang Cheng agrees and tightens his hold on Lan Xichen.

They don’t exchange any more words, just lazy, slow kisses, and even those tamper off when both Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen drift off to sleep again, perfectly relaxed in the arms of the other.

{Buy me a kofi}  

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety (Virgil x Roman)

Word Count: 9841 Words

Summary: Roman goes into the Imagination after the events of POF but he runs too far. Can the others find him before it's too late?

Warnings: Eye Trauma, Injury,  Blood, Permanent Injury, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: I might make a part 2 but I don’t know.

Shatter Me

Roman loved going into the Imagination and roaming around, the freedom to do whatever he wants and go wherever he wants. It also let him do things he couldn't do around the other sides like spar with his katana and visit Remus and Janus.

So he set out to his part of the Imagination first, cheering himself up with the beautiful meadows and he helped a small snake across the road and a short lecture to stay safe and not get hurt.

He then continued along his way through the Imagination with a small friend following him. Roman eventually stopped and picked up the small snakeling and it curled happily around his shoulders and he continued walking while talking to the small animal.

"So Virgil's been really nice lately. I think we're finally getting along and I really like him. I hope he likes me too." The snake flicked its tongue against his face like a cat grooming its owner. "I suppose you need a name? How about Romy?" The snake blepped at him and he smiled, pet over its side, feeling over the smooth, beautiful scales. "Romy it is."

They continued travelling, Roman telling Romy of his woes with the other sides right now until Roman stopped, noticing the sky had gone grey. Was it about to rain? Oh well, he wasn't going home just yet. He kept walking into the darkness until he found himself in the middle of a forest and realized what happened.

He had walked right into the dark side of the mind. He walked right into the dark side of the Imagination without so much as his sword for protection and he couldn't summon it here, inside of the Monster's Forest and he could hear the monsters that resides here, some howling, others growling, a few rattles and scrapes and screeches. And he was alone with Romy and no weapon.

He slowly, quietly, tried to find the path he'd come on but there was no indication of which way he'd come from or where he could escape. He stuck his head from the brush to look for a way out and got a slash across his eyes for his efforts. He stumbled back, hands over his eyes and holding them as he felt blood? tears? something warm and liquidy in his hands.

And he swore he was opening his eyes even though it hurt but nothing came through them. Romy hissed softly, cuddling to him, comforting him or at least trying to. Roman pet him, his only indication this was real right now and started crying. It would be too long before anyone found him, he'd die here.

"Wait, wait, wait. My baby brother is what?" Remus asked Janus again.

"I need to go into the Monster's Forest. I've been scouring the Imagination but there's only so many places he could be and the last place I need to search still is the Monster's Forest." Janus explained.

"I'm sure he's probably at his castle right now, moping because his ego was hurt." Remus told his boyfriend.

"Virgil checked there first, he's not there." Janus told him.

"Wha-"

"He has to be in the Forest, Remus, but I need your help to get him. It's been a month, Remus. I'm scared. What if something happened to him?" Remus' somber grimace greeted him when Janus finally managed to look up at him.

"Then we'll get him. Bring extra weapons, those things are vicious." Remus warned him.

Not a half hour later, they were at the entrance to the Monster's forest, Virgil, Logan, and Patton alongside so they had more people to search more area, weapons drawn and ready to fight whatever was in there.

"If we talk inside, it'll lead us to the center on the path where they can't hurt us. Don't step off the path, don't stop talking." Remus warned them.

They went about talking, Janus and Remus of their upcoming quest plans, Logan and Patton of their ideas to help Thomas focus, Virgil talking to himself quietly about his feelings about Roman. They eventually emerged into the circle of the forest, the dead center, which had a small grassy field surrounded by a tangled line of trees and foliage.

They didn't quite expect to see a bone-thin version of their friend mumbling to himself, or, rather, to the snake on his shoulders. Said snake slithered from his companion and to the closest side, Remus, to pull him closer, biting at the fabric of his pants and trying its hardest to drag him over.

"Romy?" Roman whispered. Romy let go to care for Roman, rubbing against him affectionately and seeming to tell him it was safe right now.

"Roman?" Remus asked, kneeling before him and ghosting his hands around his shoulders.

"Remus?" Roman asked back, reaching out for him, hands hitting Remus' chest and grasped on. "Remus, you came." Roman began sobbing.

"We all did, Roman." Remus alerted him.

"Everyone's here?" Roman asked.

"Yes, Ro, can't you see us?" Patton asked.

"I can't. One of the monsters. It...It scratched my eyes when I tried to leave." Remus hugged him close, protectively so, and Romy slithered onto Roman's shoulders, keeping him company again, protecting him.

"How did you survive here for a month?" Logan asked.

"You won't like it." Roman warned.

"Roman, are you okay?" Janus asked softly.

"I think so?" Roman answered unsurely.

"Remus, we need to leave, it's going to start getting dark soon." Virgil warned him, gently taking Roman, letting Romy crawl from Roman's shoulders to his own in the process of getting Roman settled in his arms. Virgil was concerned by how little his friend felt like he weighed.

"Okay. It's harder getting out so everyone tire this rope around you." Reus alerted everyone tying everyone to the rope. "We all guard Virgil no matter what. He can't fight. Virgil called bullshit. Virgil let his cloud-like aura manifest itself like a shield around him and Roman, impenetrable. "Nevermind, that works too. Again, keep talking, it should let us out if we all keep talking. Jan, talk to the new snake friend, keep him communicating." Remus reminded the snake-like side.

"Hey Ro, I'm really glad to have you back, everything's been so boding without you. I've missed you a lot." Virgil prompted Roman to talk.

"I thought I would die out here."

"I wouldn't let that happen. I made everyone search."

"But why do you care? I'm just a good-for-nothing price that can't even do his job."

"You're not. You're amazing and I'm sorry I've never said anything before but Roman, you matter and I'm sorry if I ever make you feel like you don't because you matter so much to me and I can't stand to see you hurt or unhappy."

"I matter to you?"

"Matter? Roman, I'm in love with you. Roman, I love you, of course you matter to me." Virgil sighed as they stepped from the forest and Remus counted all six of them and Romy, all seven, perfect.

"You love me?" Roman asked.

"So much." Virgil whispered, letting down his aura to calm himself and he had to hand Roman quickly off to Logan and took a few deep breaths to regain his strength and composure.

"Vee? Ae you okay?" Patton asked.

"I'm fine, I just... I had to protect Roman." Janus then noticed the blood spot forming on Virgil's right leg, his jeans ripped with three claw marks down the side from his hip to his knee all the way down his thigh.

"Virgil?" Roman asked as Virgil sat on the ground, breathing deeply.

"I'm okay. Nothing deadly. Just a little scratch." Patton would have scolded him if he wasn't downplaying it for Roman's sake.

"Remus, Roman, why don't you two go with Romy and clean up, I'm sure Roman needs a bath after a month in that dirty place." Patton told the twins.

"Sure, Pops." Remus began carrying Roman to the dark side house, Romy wrapped around Remus' neck now.

Virgil gritted his teeth as Janus had to bite anti-venom into him, nearly screamed actually, at the teeth impaled in his already venom-inflicted skin. But this was good, he could still feel it so no nerve damage had been done.

"I'm sorry." Janus told him, spitting out his blood onto the ground, nearly throwing up at the bitter, sour, burned sugar taste in his mouth of the venom that wouldn't affect him.

Actually, now that it was all he could focus on, he did throw up into the grass, Patton rubbing his back just as much as he was holding Vigil's had as Logan came running back with a first aid kit apologizing as he wriggled Virgil from his ripped jeans and began tending to the finally stemmed wounds.

Virgil would have been freaking out if he hadn't lost so much blood, but a few needles and some stitches meant basically nothing to him in his lightheaded, dizzy, dazing state of blood loss. So, even after nearly a hundred stitches, he was virtually unfazed.

Logan helped him into clean, not ripped jeans and helped him back to the dark side home as well where they found Roman and Remus in the living room with Romy, who was getting right along with Remus' pet possum, Pumpkin. Roman was telling Remus what he and Romy did to survive a month stranded in there with no way out.

"Romy brought me food. Well, his kind of food. But it was enough." Patton grimaced at the idea and Janus was already busy trying to quietly find something in the kitchen that would get rid of the taste still in his mouth from the venom.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Remus asked.

"If it's not any trouble." Roman whispered.

"Of cours, it isn't any trouble. I wanna feed my hungry baby brother! I won't even put anything weird in this time!" Remus told him.

"Thank you, Remus." Roman hugged him. Logan set Virgil next to Roman.

"Virge? Is that you?" Roman asked.

"It's me, my prince." Virgil told him, hugging to him.

"Are you sure that you're okay?" Roman asked.

"I'll be fine. Janus gave me some anti-venom and Logan stitched me up good so I'll be better in no time. It's you I'm worried about. You haven't even opened your eyes."

"It's ugly. They're scarred now. They shouldn't be open."

"I'm sure they're not ugly. They're a part of you. No part of you can be ugly, you're too gorgeous to be even remotely ugly." Virgil assured him. Slowly, Roman opened his clouded milky white eyes and Virgil held his face gently.

"Beautiful." Virgil alerted him

"They're ugly and they didn't heal right." Roman told him.

"Well, you won't see, I can't fix that. But I can make them look normal again if it bothers you so much." Logan told him.

"Please?" Roman requested. Logan put his hand over Roman's eyes and a healing blue light flashed before Roman's eyes were their old bright green, though with clouded milky pupils but they looked normal, no scar at all.

"Do I look okay?" Roman asked.

"As handsome as ever. Not that you weren't before." Virgil told him.

"I'm really tired." Roman alerted the other sides.

"Drink this and you can rest." Remus told him, handing him a warm bowl of soup, Virgil supporting his wrists and helping him hold the heavy bowl.

Once Roman drank the chicken based broth, he fell asleep against Virgil and Janus, who had settled next to him to check him over for any bites or scratches from the monsters.

Roman felt safe. He was home.

Taglist: @yeet-ceit​ @sneaky-slytherin​ @punk-academian-witch​

[blarrghe]

♥ Dorian and Taren!

Look what you did, you made Dorian cry.

Lengthy emo feelings ahead. No cut because mobile sorry =/

--

Dorian had seen Taren cry. More than once, in fact. It wasnt that it happened often, just that the elf had quite a lot to contend with. There was no shame in it, and indeed Taren took very little shame in anything pertaining to his emotion. He was free with it; asking for help almost as easily as he offered it. Almost. The first time Dorian had seen Taren cry the whole thing had actually come to a rather dramatic head specifically because of the Lord Inquisitor's refusal to show vulnerability. But grief makes people do uncharacteristic things. It had done so to Taren; made him hide his fear and doubt behind unrelenting activity. Work work work, until the crash. Dorian had been there for the crash, and it had been the first time he'd been there, like that, for anyone.

Dorian had seen Taren cry a few times after that, not with a crash, but just for a moment under a hug at the end of a long day. And he had begun to understand that it was a reasonable thing to do, sometimes, to cry. The world was a very tumultuous and unhappy place, filled with demons and bandits and various vicious beasts. There was no shame in fear or grief or loneliness, and truly, it was ok to cry.

For other people.

For Dorian, a more suitable alternative had always been - and would remain - expensive, strong brandy. On the day he recieved news of his father's death, he found some in the cellars, and taking it without asking soon found himself a quarter of the way through the bottle, hunched over a desk at the top of Skyhold's mage tower. It was an unusual venue for him; he never had migrated over from the library after the tower was built. But the tower smelled like lyrium and thrummed with residual magic, and at the top of it it was cold, and quiet.

He rubbed a thumb over the letter in his pocket, and swirled the brandy in his glass. Father was dead. It had been coming long enough; he wasnt young, and his friends were mostly false ones, but it came on suddenly nevertheless. It also came with consequences. Opportunity, he reminded himself, to actually apply all that good-principled change he'd been dreaming up all his life. And Taren would understand, he always did.

Or he might not.

Another drink.

He might say he understood and then resent him.

A larger drink.

He might have reached it, that end he always knew would one day come.

He drained the glass.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket and poured himself another glass. His mother's writing was fine, her words matter of fact and devoid of emotion. He wouldn't have expected much more, and he didn't expect that she was at this moment taking the news any differently than he was; with a strong drink and a quiet moment alone. She would cry at the funeral, dramatically, and then gather up the fortune bequeathed to her and take a sojourn out to the family beach house. She'd likely be gone from the estate before his luggage arrived. Oh, but he did not want to have to live in that house again. He took another bitter sip, gritting his teeth against the thought that he had never really lived in that house at all.

Well, he chuckled dryly to himself, he could free all the slaves while mother was away. Have her come back to find him cooking his own meals.

All these lines of thought quickly led him back to the main point, which was that his father was dead, and he wasnt quite sure how he felt about it. But however he felt, it was unpleasant, and he sought to numb it with brandy.

They had exchanged a handful of letters, after that strained reunion in Denerim. His father had asked for a forgiveness he had never granted, and that even now he was not sure he could. There was some decency to the letters, a reluctant push toward reconciliation brought on, no doubt, by his father's reckoning with his own mortality; his death had resulted from illness in the end, not political motivation. And how very bitter that dance had felt. A father who had only marginally accepted him after years of pushback, asking to be heard out of love. Thanks to the letters, thoughts of his childhood had been digging into him since well before the eventual death, and the nostalgia in them was heartwrenching and infuriating. He had given his father many proud moments, impressing his early teachers and outshining his peers. He had almost been such a perfect son.

Dorian had answered every letter slowly, leaving them at the bottom of his long to-do lists. Mostly he had just wanted to avoid those conversations because he didn't exactly know what to do with them. What to do with a relationship so steeped in resentment? What to do with all the things that would never change, that he would never get an answer for? What to do now that there was nothing else he could ever say.

He should have written longer letters. He should have had a better father. He should have been a better son.

A memory slipped itself in uninvited between mild frustration and a growing fuzziness in his thoughts; a vacation, praise for learning some new spell, the giddy joy of being seven and already important. Pride. A good memory, a happy memory where his father was kind and his mother was sober and his legacy was exciting. It was always the warmest memories that left his heart cold.

He had spent about half his life a golden child, then in a flurry of dissillusionment and ideological exasperation, made a very deliberate show of throwing it all away. Rebellion and resentment had been his only modes of communication with either of his parents for years, and with more than enough good reason. Dead or not, some broken part of him would always be angry. And the parts of him that were whole knew well enough that his anger was justified.

He had idly imagined the familial fallout of death a number of times; in his darkest moments, he'd ruminated on the shadow he could cast with his own, and in fits of anger and heated verbal sparring, he'd passionately invoked his desire to see his father's. He had known for a very long time that ungrateful though it may seem, he wouldn't feel much troubled by its eventual occurence. He had assumed that his tears for matters concerning his legacy, his failures as a protege, and his mistreatment were long spent. But grief makes people do uncharacteristic things.

Drinking was probably not helping. When the first salty droplet fell into his brandy, his mind was already a rough sea of happy memories and unhappy reactions, unhappy memories and refreshed anger, unspoken rants and unwritten apologies. All the things that had only just begun to feel far away and over during his time in the South were back, emboldened by the discombobulated nature of a mind altered by drink. The waves crashed into him, and with an ugly wail and a choking breath, the rest of his tears spilled out from behind his eyes.

He crumpled the letter into a tight ball, and threw it across the room with all the force he could muster. Despite the force behind it, the wad of paper bounced off the wall and rolled along the floor with nothing more than a quiet patter. His violent little burst of energy only fueled things further, and then he was slamming a fist into the desk and pushing away the bottle of brandy in order to preserve it from a sudden urge to smash something.

A sob heaved itself from his throat, and he lowered his head into his hands to shake out the rest. Most of his complex feelings of anger and grief were swallowed up by curse words, and he let the colourful stream of them run through his head while his breaths hitched and broke under more sobs.

Taren had never seen Dorian cry. Not even when his voice had cracked and wavered in Redcilffe after confronting his father, not even when he had pulled him in tight and swearing under his breath after their close calls with death, not over anything. In fact, every distressing moment in Dorian's life seemed to be relayed with humour; a well developed mix of sarcasm and bravado. It wasnt that he was insensitive, the man had simply had a lot of practice maintaining his face, and letting that face fall was new and foreign territory. He would no doubt have given Taren a nonchalant explanation of what had happened in a day or two, the emotional impact always something you had to know him to hear. But Taren would. Dorian was a passionate man, and while he was wordy and quick witted, most of what he felt came through in action. He'd throw it all out there like it was nothing, then hold him in a desperate grip and sink his kisses deep into his bones, and that would say everything.

But Dorian wouldn't have that chance. Instead, as he wrestled with his composure with his head bent over the desk, Taren quietly ascended the stairs. Dorian didn't even realise he was there until his hand was on his back, rubbing gentle circles over his shoulder as another shaky breath jostled them up and down.

"Vhenan," his warm voice was quiet in his ear, a soft breath of a word that held so much. Exactly the right thing, and exactly the wrong thing, for it triggered a surprised inhale and an embarrassed crack in his voice as he tried to reply with some assurance that he was fine through the tears.

"What can I..."

Dorian took a few more breaths and rubbed at his eyes, forcing an unconvincing smile and reigning in the display.

"Nohing, Amatus. I'm fine, I'm fine."

Taren didn't move. His hands massaged Dorian's shoulders slowly, and a kiss landed in his hair. "Tell me what happened."

Dorian sighed, and nodded his head to the left just enough to signal Taren to where the crumpled letter sat on the floor. Taren took the few steps across the small room and picked it up. With a cautious look to Dorian first, he undid its folds and smoothed the letter out. He read it slowly, eyes scanning the page and then flicking up to Dorian again with close-knit brows. "Oh," he whispered as he finished taking in the news, "oh, ma vhenan."

This was not their spot up in the library where things were comfortable. Dorian wasn't hunkered down in a cozy little alcove with two comfortable seats and the homey clutter of books and candle stubs and notes, he was bent over a solitary desk, in a small and dim little room at the top of a tower. When Taren returned to his side he tucked himself in at a kneel and took up one of Dorian's hands.

"So, shall we make it quick and painless then?" Dorian asked, forcing another of those smiles that didnt quite make it.

"What?"

"My leaving."

"Dorian," he said it like no.

"Dont tell me you want to draw this out. I dont think I can stomach more crying." Even as he said it, his voice cracked over the words.

Taren sighed, and gave Dorian's hand a solemn squeeze. "I do though," Taren replied, "I love you." Dorian sat up, turning his face reluctantly to Taren's. "I wont make promises for myself. You dont have to do any more crying." He smiled at him, all real, "but if you must leave, I'd like to draw it out for as long as I possibly can."

"Bastard."

Taren chuckled. "It's too soon to point that back at you, isn't it?" A rare moment of pithyness from the Inquisitor. It worked, Taren was almost never anything but achingly sincere, and the surprise of a joke in extremely poor taste jolted Dorian to an actual snort of a laugh.

"Maker, I must look a fool. I've been wishing for this day for years."

Taren frowned. "You're not a fool."

"I kept putting off his letters..." He felt a need to explain something, a reason for the hysterics. "I should have, I should have..."

"Listen to me," Taren was suddenly serious again, taking both his hands and fixing him with a knowing gaze. "Whatever happens, whatever you need, I'm here." Dorian felt his face scrunching up again against his permission. "I love you." Taren said again, every time a lightning bolt. He swallowed, and hid his wretchedness in Taren's shoulder.

He had thought he was done. The fit of shaking and wailing interrupted by the warmth and comfort of Taren's voice, the masking power of a joke, the space enough between thoughts to find some ground to stand on. But as his eyes closed over Taren's shoulder and he felt arms wrap close around him, something else washed over him. Being held somehow made it all better, and all worse. His body convulsed, inhales entering his lungs in jagged chunks, just one bit of air at a time. His eyes left a damp spot in the soft fabric of Taren's thick sweater. Taren's hands pressed firmly into his back, one moving slowly up and down. His own hands clung to the wool of Taren's sweater in tight fists. The shattering breaths grew longer bit by bit, until they were deep and calm again. Taren always smelled a bit like campfire smoke, underneath notes of sea water and fresh pine. He inhaled, buoying himself on the familiar comfort of the embrace until his eyes were truly dry.

When he pulled away Taren had another smile ready for him, though his eyes were wide and full of concern. Dorian responded with a watery smile of his own. He pushed himself away from the desk, his chair sliding roughly on the wood paneled floor, and reached across the desk to retrieve the bottle he'd shoved aside.

"Brandy?" He offered, pouring a finger of it into his glass and tossing it quickly back.

Taren leaned on the desk, still watching him with an affectionate gaze. "Yes," he agreed, "but let's go somewhere else."

Taren rose to his feet and Dorian followed. Before anything, Taren took his hand and pulled him into a kiss. And without ever letting go, he led him away from the tower.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Humiliation, negating, criticizing

These tactics are meant to undermine your self-esteem. The abuse is harsh and unrelenting in matters big and small.

Here are some examples:

Name-calling. They’ll blatantly call you “stupid,” “a loser,” or words too awful to repeat here.

Derogatory “pet names.” This is just more name-calling in not-so-subtle disguise. “My little knuckle dragger” or “My chubby pumpkin” aren’t terms of endearment.

Character assassination. This usually involves the word “always.” You’re always late, wrong, screwing up, disagreeable, and so on. Basically, they say you’re not a good person.

Yelling. Yelling, screaming, and swearing are meant to intimidate and make you feel small and inconsequential. It might be accompanied by fist-pounding or throwing things.

Patronizing. “Aw, sweetie, I know you try, but this is just beyond your understanding.”

Public embarrassment. They pick fights, expose your secrets, or make fun of your shortcomings in public.

Dismissiveness. You tell them about something that’s important to you and they say it’s nothing. Body language like eye-rolling, smirking, headshaking, and sighing help convey the same message.

“Joking.” The jokes might have a grain of truth to them or be a complete fabrication. Either way, they make you look foolish.

Sarcasm. Often just a dig in disguise. When you object, they claim to have been teasing and tell you to stop taking everything so seriously.

Insults of your appearance. They tell you, just before you go out, that your hair is ugly or your outfit is clownish.

Belittling your accomplishments. Your abuser might tell you that your achievements mean nothing, or they may even claim responsibility for your success. [Ignoring or refusing to celebrate your accomplishments may also be emotionally abusive/neglectful in a close relationship.]

Put-downs of your interests. They might tell you that your hobby is a childish waste of time or you’re out of your league when you play sports. Really, it’s that they’d rather you not participate in activities without them [or they’re jealous of your skill in this or some other area they don’t excel in].

Pushing your buttons. Once your abuser knows about something that annoys you, they’ll bring it up or do it every chance they get.

Control and shame

Trying to make you feel ashamed of your inadequacies is just another path to power. [These abusive behaviors can be harder to recognize in parents than in romantic partners, as parents generally exert some level of healthy control over young children’s lives. The issue is then with the degree of control, the age of the child, and the extent of the trauma caused.]

Tools of the shame and control game include:

Threats. Telling you they’ll take the kids and disappear, or saying “There’s no telling what I might do.” [From parents, threats that they’ll take your belongings or seriously and unjustly punish you]

Monitoring your whereabouts. They want to know where you are all the time and insist that you respond to calls or texts immediately. They might show up just to see if you’re where you’re supposed to be.

Digital spying. They might check your internet history, emails, texts, and call log. They might even demand your passwords.

Unilateral decision-making. They might close a joint bank account, cancel your doctor’s appointment, or speak with your boss without asking.

Financial control. They might keep bank accounts in their name only and make you ask for money. You might be expected to account for every penny you spend.

Lecturing. Belaboring your errors with long monologues makes it clear they think you’re beneath them.

Direct orders. From “Get my dinner on the table now” to “Stop taking the pill,” orders are expected to be followed despite your plans to the contrary.

Outbursts. You were told to cancel that outing with your friend or put the car in the garage, but didn’t, so now you have to put up with a red-faced tirade about how uncooperative you are.

Treating you like a child. They tell you what to wear, what and how much to eat, or which friends you can see.

Feigned helplessness. They may say they don’t know how to do something. Sometimes it’s easier to do it yourself than to explain it. They know this and take advantage of it.

Unpredictability. They’ll explode with rage out of nowhere, suddenly shower you with affection, or become dark and moody at the drop of a hat to keep you walking on eggshells.

They walk out. In a social situation, stomping out of the room leaves you holding the bag. At home, it’s a tool to keep the problem unresolved.

Using others. Abusers may tell you that “everybody” thinks you’re crazy or “they all say” you’re wrong.

Accusing, blaming, and denial

This behavior comes from an abuser’s insecurities. They want to create a hierarchy in which they’re at the top and you’re at the bottom.

Here are some examples:

Jealousy. They accuse you of flirting or cheating on them.

Turning the tables. They say you cause their rage and control issues by being such a pain.

Denying something you know is true. An abuser will deny that an argument or even an agreement took place. This is called gaslighting. It’s meant to make you question your own memory and sanity.

Using guilt. They might say something like, “You owe me this. Look at all I’ve done for you,” in an attempt to get their way.

Goading then blaming. Abusers know just how to upset you. But once the trouble starts, it’s your fault for creating it.

Denying their abuse. When you complain about their attacks, abusers will deny it, seemingly bewildered at the very thought of it.

Accusing you of abuse. They say you’re the one who has anger and control issues and they’re the helpless victim.

Trivializing. When you want to talk about your hurt feelings, they accuse you of overreacting and making mountains out of molehills.

Saying you have no sense of humor. Abusers make personal jokes about you. If you object, they’ll tell you to lighten up.

Blaming you for their problems. Whatever’s wrong in their life is all your fault. You’re not supportive enough, didn’t do enough, or stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.

Destroying and denying. They might crack your cell phone screen or “lose” your car keys, then deny it. [They also break your belongings when “in a rage” and “out of control”... and yet prove they ARE in control by never breaking THEIR belongings in similar circumstances.]

Emotional neglect and isolation

Abusers tend to place their own emotional needs ahead of yours. Many abusers will try to come between you and people who are supportive of you to make you more dependent on them.

They do this by:

Demanding respect. No perceived slight will go unpunished, and you’re expected to defer to them. But it’s a one-way street.

Shutting down communication. They’ll ignore your attempts at conversation in person, by text, or by phone.

Dehumanizing you. They’ll look away when you’re talking or stare at something else when they speak to you.

Keeping you from socializing. Whenever you have plans to go out, they come up with a distraction or beg you not to go.

Trying to come between you and your family. They’ll tell family members that you don’t want to see them or make excuses why you can’t attend family functions.

Withholding affection. They won’t touch you, not even to hold your hand or pat you on the shoulder. They may refuse sexual relations to punish you or to get you to do something.

Tuning you out. They’ll wave you off, change the subject, or just plain ignore you when you want to talk about your relationship.

Actively working to turn others against you. They’ll tell co-workers, friends, and even your family that you’re unstable and prone to hysterics.

Calling you needy. When you’re really down and out and reach out for support, they’ll tell you you’re too needy or the world can’t stop turning for your little problems.

Interrupting. You’re on the phone or texting and they get in your face to let you know your attention should be on them.

Indifference. They see you hurt or crying and do nothing.

Disputing your feelings. Whatever you feel, they’ll say you’re wrong to feel that way or that’s not really what you feel at all.

Codependence

A codependent relationship is when everything you do is in reaction to your abuser’s behavior. And they need you just as much to boost their own self-esteem. You’ve forgotten how to be any other way. It’s a vicious circle of unhealthy behavior. [It is generally caused by poor boundaries. The good news is that you can LEARN to create healthy boundaries!]

You might be codependent if you:

are unhappy in the relationship, but fear alternatives

consistently neglect your own needs for the sake of theirs

ditch friends and sideline your family to please your partner

frequently seek out your partner’s approval

critique yourself through your abuser’s eyes, ignoring your own instincts

make a lot of sacrifices to please the other person, but it’s not reciprocated

would rather live in the current state of chaos than be alone

bite your tongue and repress your feelings to keep the peace

feel responsible and take the blame for something they did

defend your abuser when others point out what’s happening

try to “rescue” them from themselves

feel guilty when you stand up for yourself

think you deserve this treatment

believe that nobody else could ever want to be with you

change your behavior in response to guilt; [for example,] your abuser says, “I can’t live without you,” so you stay

[eatingfoodlover]

How Can I Reduce Weight? Emotional Eating

If you are like me, an emotional eater, you consume for reasons other than appetite. At evening when I sit as well as view TELEVISION, I think concerning Eating ice cream.

What occurred to me? What can I do concerning it?

Emotional Eating has been described as Eating to satisfy Emotional feelings as opposed to physical hunger. What we are doing is feeding a feeling, typically an adverse one. Ever before become aware of the term "comfort food" ( sweets or unhealthy food)? We are trying to make ourselves feel better by Eating a satisfying reward. The fellow feeling only lasts for a short time period. Then we will feel guilty and also end up being distressed with ourselves. Depression embed in generating an even more unfavorable sensation as well as state of mind.

Emotional Eating creates a vicious circle, Eating to satisfy a feeling, creating short-term enjoyment, then regret, developing even more unfavorable feelings and afterwards much more eating to feed that feeling. As I understand, this cycle causes weight problems as well as health problems. I am not going to hammer you with all the troubles connected with obesity. Such as health problems, physical discomfort, absence of wheelchair, as well as the treatment by and also approval of society. You, like me, experience everything day long, every single day.

What I am mosting likely to do is inform you just how I have concerned manage this problem. After remaining in a lot of weight management programs, I have actually involved realize that my Emotional Eating typically has a trigger. Several of my triggers include: a distressed mindset, handling a deadline, really feeling sorry for myself or I remain in an awkward situation. In some cases, it is a straightforward and favorable trigger such as food nearby, smelling great and everybody Eating and appreciating it.

How do I identify Emotional Eating instead of physical cravings?

Emotional Eating normally longs for one type of food (ice lotion for me) as well as only that food will certainly satisfy the craving. Where as, if I was literally hungry, then any type of food choice will certainly please me.

Second - an emotional yearning begins rapidly and needs to be satisfied now. Physical hunger slowly develops up, however I can delay my Eating.

Third - If I am emotionally Eating, I will certainly eat and remain to consume past being full and also stuffed. I do this, because I am attempting to satisfy a feeling not cravings. On the other hand, when I am Eating because I'm hungry, once I'm full, I quit Eating.

4th - After I am do with an emotional Eating binge, I always really feel guilty as well as make a promise to myself to do better. Of course I do not maintain that promise and I set myself up for an additional Eating binge. On the contrary, if I have actually consumed because of cravings, after that I don't feel guilty and I recommend my meal.

5th - I have actually involved recognize that a few of my Emotional Eating is because of favorable sensations such as celebrating with buddies as well as carbon monoxide employees. In these situations, I usually over delight food wise as well as discover that socially drinking also becomes an undesirable resource of calories. The fellow feelings created by the party is boosted by great food as well as drink. I have actually discovered that in these instances it is best to eat in advance and also take pleasure in the company of my friends and also not the food and drink.

I utilize food as an interruption which keeps me from needing to manage a problem. It appears to me that my strongest food cravings come when I go to my weakest emotionally.

There are numerous feelings that motivate Emotional Eating. These consist of: stress, temper, worry, boredom, unhappiness, loneliness, not belonging and also not feeling adequate. What we should do is learn just how to acknowledge these feelings and also their triggers. The finest method I recognize of is to maintain a "Food Journal".

The "Food Journal" should consist of the time we eat, what we eat, number of calories eaten as well as the reasons that we ate. This documentation procedure is a crucial component to our way of living change. We need to understand our Eating practices to make sure that we can concern recognize, recognize and regulate our Emotional Eating episodes.

[xoxoamf27]

White. I’ve always hated the color. You would never catch me in anything white unless it was absolutely necessary. Like a graduation, communion or wedding party. Black had always been my color of choice. It suited me, the way I felt, my outlook on everything, but now all my wardrobe consists of is white nightgowns. Who would have thought that a college educated girl who came from a seemingly normal and functional family would end up here in some facility in the middle of nowhere that is supposed to help me “get better” but in reality is only making me realize that this might have been the true destination I was headed toward for most of my life.

Looking back it all adds up. I had everything. Parents who loved me, a boyfriend who adored me much more than he should have and more than enough money than I knew what to do with. I was privileged, I was spoiled and I was unhappy even with the world practically at my feet. I rebelled every chance I got. I broke the hearts of my family over and over again. At first it was just your typical teenage disrespect but that wasn't enough for me. I had to go bigger, do worse, something inside my head was always nagging me to see how much farther I can push myself when it came to my limits and the limits of others.

I would purposely stay out late, not call or text for days just to have everyone worry about me. Of course I fell in with a bad crowd. Whether it was smoking, boozing, fucking, you name it, I indulged in it and had no care in the world about the consequences. I’ve had my stomach pumped more times than I can count on both my hands.

No one could ever figure out why I am the way I am. Mental illness didn't run in my family. My mother didn't control me, my father didn't assault me. Maybe they should have, then maybe I’d have a real, tangible reason as to why I act the way I do besides the ominous dark feelings that come over me and take me to the point where the new version of myself becomes so strong there is no sense in fighting back. So I don’t. I lay back, let it take over and let the feelings of adrenaline and danger consume me and take me to places I never dreamed.

There was something about feeling like you're a lost cause that gave me a sick feeling of satisfaction. I knew I was different, I knew I was sick but a part of me enjoyed it, so much so that it ultimately led to my extended stay here. Who knows if I’ll ever get out of here. In all honesty, if I were any of these doctors I wouldn't let me out. I am a danger, not just to others, mostly to myself. I’m self destructive and no matter how hard I try, the cycle can’t be stopped.

This isn't the first place I've been shipped off to in an attempt to get my life back on track but it will definitely be the last. I can’t go through sitting in another circle with a group of strangers listening to their truly painful and pitiful pasts as I simply sit there and imagine what I’d be doing if I wasn't forced to sit here and feign interest. Not to mention being forced to where one of those insufferable “Hi, my name is Holly” stickers.

What no one knows is the voices were my first friends. I heard them for the first time when I was ten, but they went away for awhile leaving me alone. They resurfaced when I was fifteen and thats when I started to change. I gave into what they wanted, what they suggested. At first, I was scared but as I got used to it, I thrived. I no longer felt scared or held back by anything but feeling like that comes with a price and I'm paying the price for it now.

I’m tired of the pills, I’m tired of the doctors, I’m tired of the blood that trickles down my wrists when I feel trapped. I have to make a decision, do I ultimately embrace my madness and live out my days continuing this vicious cycle or do I end my pain?

I’m not sure what to do, I never have been. I mainly fly by the seat of my pants but I think I’m over all of it. I have no possible career in sight, I’ve never stayed in a job long enough to see if it was really for me. No real friendships or relationships to look forward to getting back to. I never had many girlfriends and the ones I had were never able to keep up with me and as for my boyfriend I mentioned earlier, he was too good for me. I didn't like seeing him hurt and disappointed in me every time he laid his gorgeous blue eyes on me. He only wanted what was best for me and I promised that I would try to make it work but him and I both knew that it wouldn't stick so we ended it. He was more heartbroken than I was, not that I didn't love him, actually maybe I didn’t. Maybe I was using him so I wouldn't be alone.

Something about being alone frightens me thats why a part of me doesn’t want the voices to go away. I know how it sounds, trust me. Who wants to live life being controlled by destructive voices that run through their head? I mainly want them because their comforting to me, in a way they understand me better than anyone else, which is sad considering their voices and not actual people. I’ve tried to make genuine and lasting connections with others but it never felt natural.

I’m twenty five now and frankly I’m exhausted. The once wild and reckless life I lived for nearly a decade, drained the drive out of me. I’ve come to realize it more now over my weeks here, I’m tired, more than I should be for my age. I just want to sleep, to relax, not to worry. To just close my eyes and float away.

I walked around barefoot as I thought to myself. No one is awake, it is a little after midnight. The orderlies were taking their usual late night coffee break at this hour. I’ve learned the rotation and how to get around unnoticed. Its relatively quiet tonight, I haven’t heard any screams, maybe tonight is a good night after all. As I make my way to the roof, I lingered as I felt the warm summer breeze against my skin. Summer used to be my favorite time of year, but I cant remember the last time I enjoyed a trip to the beach or the feel of the sun on my skin.

The moon was also beautiful, it was full and shined so brightly, it was almost blinding. I ran my fingertips over my scarred arms and remembered each time I dragged that cold, sharp blade against my skin. My arms are like a tragic work of art.

As I stood at the ledge I knew it would hurt but maybe only for an instant, I was no stranger to pain after all, what was wrong with one last bout of it? I knew it would be a mess to clean up for whoever would be tasked with removing me from the pavement but I didn't really care how it would be done.

I was waiting for the voices to start screaming at me for what I was about to do but shockingly I heard nothing. Maybe they knew I had given up and accepted the fact that our time together was over. Its bittersweet in a way, to not hear them at this moment. My heart was pounding so loudly you would think it would be audible to someone else. I forced my eyes shut as it felt as if everything was standing still. I took a deep breath and realized there was no going back, I waited for a split second to see if any of the familiar voices that I had come to know over all these years would call out to me, begging me to stop, to turn around, to go back to bed but there was nothing. I felt myself mouth the words “I’m sorry” as I quickly thought of my parents and all the tears I caused them.

I stepped forward and there was no longer anything beneath me, I was falling and I knew in that instant, I was finally free.

[drunkbatya]

Notebook | Even If We Try

Yes, I know you're not kamleo fans, but give these two a chance. I swear, I love these two so much. Their relationship is something precious to me. Perhaps you can understand me if you read this. I think their relationship is very interesting.

___________________________

Elijah Kamski x Leo Manfred

2, 689 words

Warning: smoking, nothing special, but the mention of drugs

___________________________

Leo noticed him from a distance. As soon as a shadow passed through the glass doors of the building, he knew — Elijah was there.

Kamski pushed open the door, put his coat collar back on, and moved forward, wincing in the chilly wind.

Leo devoured Elijah's figure with his eyes. His perfectly black coat was the only contrast against the endless grayness of the place: withered grass, bare trees, dusty paved paths, and dirty, inconspicuous walls of the building, closing in a stone fence behind. It was so high that only the sky was visible behind it, and the sky, like everything else here, was gloomy and gray.

Elijah stopped at a bench, blocking the view of the bleak courtyard. Instead of ‘hello’, his lips twitched slightly, trying for a moment to curl into a forced, polite smile.

Leo lowered his head. He avoided looking at Kamski up close, and didn't particularly want to show him the results of being here. The emaciated, sallow face, the circles under his eyes, and the dead look were the result of hard days in his life. He was ashamed to show himself like this in front of Elijah, who seemed to have never had such days.

“How are you?” Kamski asked in a deep, low voice, frowning.

“Hard,” Leo breathed out. He had no reason to lie.

Elijah nodded. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he didn't prepare any words of support anyway.

There was an oppressive silence. They hadn't seen each other for only a few weeks, but now those weeks were like years of separation, which stood between them as a wall of silence and alienation. With each new meeting, they had fewer themes and words. They no longer knew what to say to each other.

“Do you have a cigarette?” Leo tried to look up, but the cloudy sky cut his eyes with its light, just as Elijah's silent presence cut his soul. Manfred immediately looked down.

“It seems like smoking is forbidden here,” said Kamski.

Leo just snorted. Prohibitions have never stopped anyone before. Drugs were also banned, but they were still brought here. Ex-addicts are only dead addicts, what can you say?

“You're Elijah Kamski, who's going to forbid you anything?”

Leo made another attempt to look up, but failed again.

Elijah sighed, frowning looked around and put his hand in his coat pocket. A moment later, a pack of cigarettes was tossed carelessly into Leo's lap, followed by a lighter.

“Isn't that too cheeky?” Kamski asked calmly, but there was a note of reproach in his voice.

Leo froze, the cigarette halfway to his lips.

“Here, you know, it's like a children's camp,” he grinned, thoughtfully swinging his cigarette, “at night, they smoke in the windows, during the day they hide in the bushes. You can smoke here. You just can't get caught, you know?”

“So, can you at least walk around the corner for decency's sake?” Elijah raised an eyebrow, questioning and haughty.

“Why?” Leo asked quietly. “I can piss on their faces, they won't do anything to me while you're here.”

“And then?”

“What then?” the cigarette bounced up and down between his lips. “Does it matter?”

A lighter flickered. Leo breathed in the smoke with difficulty, and it rubbed across his throat like sandpaper, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue and a sweet taste of chocolate on his lips. The cigarette smoked heavily.

“Heavy and expensive,” Leo said, looking at the pack. “Just like you.”

Elijah ignored this. For too long he had listened to the younger Manfred selectively.

Leo took only a few puffs. He had not smoked for a long time, so he confused the quickening heartbeat with pleasure. It was like a happy anticipation and a pleasant excitement. He felt alive for the first time.

“Can I keep it?” Leo waved the pack. “It's really hard here without them.”

Elijah reached into his coat pocket and turned away. You could tell by the curve of his mouth that he wasn't happy. The longer he stared at the gray wall of the building, the more tense the silence became.

“Does therapy help you?”

Leo coughed. He hoped that if he coughed up his lungs now, he wouldn't need to say anything.

“Answer the question,” Elijah asked imperiously.

“No,” Leo said with disdain.

“‘No’ because you need a different approach or ‘no’ because you don't want to make an effort?”

“‘No’ because it's bullshit,” Leo looked at Kamski with anger.

The corners of Elijah's mouth twitched. He was clearly displeased with this response.

“So you just don't want to make the effort,” he stated in a monotone voice.

The phrase hit Leo in the stomach. He gasped with indignation.

“This,” he pointed the cigarette between his fingers at the building, “is complete bullshit, Elijah. I've had enough of their ‘tell me what you don't want to tell’ therapies. I'm tired of their stifling revelations and snot-chewing. We are all unhappy, each in his own way, how fucking unexpected it is!”

Leo threw up his hands.

“Did you tell them?” Elijah turned his blue eyes to Manfred. “Did you tell them anything at all?”

“No! Of course not, damn it.”

“It won't work if you don't start talking.”

“Fuck it!” Leo shouted. “I'm not going to participate in this group rape. I won't complain that my father doesn't need me. Especially about...”

The voice trembled treacherously. Manfred turned away.

“Leo,” Elijah called softly.

“It's the smoke...”

Kamski looked down and crossed his arms. He didn't know what to do when Leo's eyes suddenly started to water from the smoke, the wind, or unpleasant memories.

“I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to write about it. I don't even want to think about it. They want to dig into themselves, so they can get a shovel in their hands. I just want to stop thinking about it. This is not a sad story to make everyone cry and say a compassionate ‘oooh’. It is mine. Personal. And I want it to stay that way.”

Elijah looked down at the toes of his shoes thoughtfully. His lips twitched. He wrapped his coat around him and sat down on the bench. Leo moved away instinctively.

“You told me about it,” Kamski breathed out softly and very delicately.

“Now I regret,” Leo growled back, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

He was silent for a long time. Elijah didn't say anything either. He just stared up at the gray sky, which made his blue eyes look muddy and clouded.

“If you think that makes me feel better,” Leo's voice was hoarse, “you're wrong. And telling more people about it is not going to make it any easier for me either.”

Elijah winced.

“They are right about one thing,” Manfred waved a hand. “I'm running. We—” he glanced at the building, correcting himself, “are running. And locking us in here alone with ourselves with no alternative to drugs is the worst idea.”

“One on one with your problems,” Elijah brushed invisible dust from his perfectly black coat, “you can't run forever. You can't run away from yourself.”

Leo turned his head and stared at Kamski for a long moment. There was no emotion in his glassy eyes.

“It's not me, Elijah,” he said hoarsely after a long pause. “What happened is not me.”

“It's part of you.”

“The part I want to forget about,” Leo breathed in the cigarette smoke and jumped nervously on the bench, trying to sit more comfortably. “There are things that can't be coped with group therapy, long walks in the fresh air, and unpleasant routines. There are problems that can't be solved, you can only run away from them... and we were denied this opportunity.”

“You were forced to make an effort to overcome difficulties,” Kamski added a clarification

Leo hissed in annoyance.

“You can't refuse something without finding an alternative,” he breathed in the smoke with a whistle. “Even if we try to make ourselves all right, even if we break this vicious circle... as long as the addiction is in our heads, we are in danger. We cannot get rid of it by isolation, because obsessive thoughts do not come from outside.”

He paused for a brief moment and looked up, as if there was something in the sky that distracted him.

“I just want to get high.”

Elijah visibly tensed.

“Every fucking day, all I think about is how much I want to get high,” Leo hastily breathed in the smoke, stubbed out the cigarette and throwing it into the shrubs. “I think if I get out of here—” he cleared his throat, “as soon as I get out of here, I will—”

Manfred paused thoughtfully. There were things he shouldn't have said in front of Elijah.

“Prohibitions don't work,” Leo said. “We need alternatives.”

“What alternatives?” Elijah's voice was tense and displeased.

Leo shrugged his shoulders.

“More diverse activities? Something distracting? Maybe a phone or laptop—”

“That's out of the question,” Elijah cut him off.

“At least a TV,” Manfred asked in a whining, childish voice. “You know, the morgue is more fun place than this...”

Elijah Kamski narrowed his eyes, put his hands in the pockets of his coat, and pursed his lips in displeasure.

“That's where you'll end up if you continue…”

Leo scratched his dry lips with a fingernail and glared at Elijah.

He promised not to devalue other people's problems so obviously, but whatever it was, there was indifference in his words, in his look, in his expression, and even in his presence. It may have been rude, but Leo's problems are just Leo's problems. Kamski was willing to help with them, but he didn't exactly sign up to solve them.

“I want to go home,” Leo's voice was quiet and hesitant.

Elijah seemed to become uncomfortable. He sighed heavily, fixed his coat, and crossed his legs.

“We agreed that you would stay here for three months,” his voice was cold.

“We didn't agree about ‘here’,” Leo snapped.

“Really?”

The look in his blue eyes hurt Manfred. His voice, usually soft and calm, but now quivering with tension, sounding a tone higher and more resonant, was full of contempt.

“You absolutely have no willpower,” Kamski said, looking away.

“It's not true,” Leo whispered. He knew Elijah was right, and it made him angry. He had never been able to resist temptation, but like any human being, he was sure that if he needed it badly, he could control himself and overcome it. Just not right now. He was not ready now, and he knew very well that he never would be. Fighting with yourself, suffering for the good — a hard path you need to go through with your teeth clenched. There wouldn't be a good time for him to do it, they both knew that.

“I remember,” Elijah's voice became dangerously calm and relaxed, “after the hospital, you swore you were done with drugs forever, but here we are...”

“That—” Leo grimaced irritably and nervously. “That was just an episode...”

“How many such episodes were? How many more will be?”

“It was—” Manfred breathed out heavily, knowing that he couldn't finish the sentence without lying. “It won't happen again.”

Elijah turned his head and stared at Leo for a long moment. It was impossible to bear the heavy, burning gaze. Leo lowered his head guiltily, gritted his teeth, and shrank to the size of a pumpkin seed, hoping he could just disappear.

“You know I don't believe you,” Elijah said softly. “I wish I could, but I can't.”

“This time—” Leo's voice faltered and broke into a hoarse rasp. “This time it will be different.”

“You start repeating yourself...”

Leo pursed his lips painfully. Sometimes just faith is not enough. He would like to keep at least one of his words. But all the promises at once lose their meaning when you really want to get high.

“«This time,” Leo licked his lips nervously, “it will be different. I swear. It won't happen again...”

“Good, if that's true,” Elijah said under his breath, fixing his coat.

He turned and gave Manfred a strange look. A thoughtful, maybe doubtful.

“This is the last chance, Leo,” Kamski's voice was barely heard in the wind, “there will be no others. I can't help someone who doesn't want help. I'm not going to pull you out of this swamp by your ears anymore. You've had too many attempts already. This is the last one. If you can't handle it—”

Elijah turned away, exhaling heavily. He made it clear that if Leo betrayed his trust again, their paths would separate. Elijah forgave Manfred too much. More than anyone else. Even his brother was not so honored.

Leo closed his eyes and breathed out. He opened his mouth to say ‘I promise’, but didn't have time. The phone in Elijah's coat pocket vibrated insistently, alerting him to an incoming call. And that call was a hundred and a thousand times more important than anything Leo had to say.

Elijah didn't bother answering the phone quickly. Lazily, he took his phone out of his pocket, stared at the screen for a long time, then finally accepted the call, threw a short ‘I'm coming’ and immediately disconnected. Leo thought with annoyance that for all his philosophical slowness, Kamski did not like to waste his time. He never spent a second more than was necessary. So there's a question: how much time was he willing to give Leo today?

“I have to go.”

Even less than usual. Leo clicked his tongue. He shouldn't have set high expectations for these meetings. They became forced.

For too long Leo has been too uncomfortable with his addiction. But Elijah was still here. It should have been gratifying to Leo that a man who refused everything burdensome without regret was still with him for some reason, but it was not gratifying at all. He felt like a burden, and he was beginning to think about breaking this relationship with Elijah, even if it was the only thing that kept him on the line.

Kamski stood up. He was not going to choose the right words and prolong the good-bye indefinitely. This is not their last meeting.

“Are you coming next week?” Leo asked casually.

Elijah took a deep breath. He hoped he could avoid this question.

“I'll be out of town.”

Elijah's gaze moved across the bleak, bare courtyard. Manfred sighed.

“These are important meetings, Leo,” Kamski said with pressure.

“I know, I know,” the young man mumbled. “I'm not three years old. I understand that meeting with me has never been important enough for you...”

“We can reschedule,” Elijah said as gently as he could. “You're not going anywhere...”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Leo agreed, but at that moment he desperately wanted to hang himself on his own sheet, only for Elijah's words to become fatal.

Elijah's lips tightened, and his face looked sharpened.

“Thursday,” he broke the long silence. “Evening. I'll come to you for a while.”

Leo pursed his lips to hide a faint smile.

“Bring something for you?” Elijah reached up, pulled back the sleeve of his coat, and glanced at the dial of his watch.

“Cigarettes.”

Elijah gave him a disapproving look.

“And laptop.”

“Leo,” Elijah said imperiously. Obviously this was synonymous with a categorical no.

“At least a book,” Leo said with a despair.

“Okay,” Kamski nodded, “okay. I'll bring you a book.”

He raised a hand and, with the care common to all who deal with wild animals, patted Leo's hair sentimentally. Manfred grimaced, but said nothing.

“I have to go,” he said softly, under his breath. “See you Thursday, Leo.”

“See you Thursday, Elijah.”

Kamski turned and walked confidently away. It's always like this with them — neither hello nor goodbye. This makes meetings look cursory, but less burdensome.

Leo counted to ten before looking up. Elijah was no longer in the courtyard.

Heavy clouds were reflected in the windows and glass doors of the building.

[butterflydm]

2020 (what a weird year)

I did not get very much done this year at all. The business I work for got us all classified as essential workers which... tbh, I did not agree with as a categorization. It’s meant that hours per week stayed the same, but my anxiety levels at work skyrocketed. And most of the time, after getting home, I basically had enough energy to check some stuff online but I mostly needed to decompress by doing something familiar, which I’ve been doing by replaying FFX and FFX2, and my brain mostly hasn’t had room for anything new. Which is a shame for all the plans I had to watch tons of new media! I had a long list of things I wanted to check out and I haven’t really watched any of it.

I did get a chance to watch a few new things (as always, tbh, any recs of mine are basically ‘you will like this thing, if this is the kind of thing you like’):

The Old Guard: Really enjoyed this movie. It’s been out for a while now, but if you haven’t had a chance to watch it, it was a fun, easy watch that also made me think some interesting philosophical questions about life. A good time! It’s honestly the only movie I watched during the 2020 pandemic period, unless I get around to watching anything else in the next couple of days.

MXTX’s Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System: I love love this story. I’ve watched the donghua (looking forward to S2!) and read the translation by BC Novels, and the story just has so many things that make my heart go ‘yes!’: it’s funny, with a charming PoV character who both doesn’t take himself too seriously and also seriously misunderstands himself in a lot of ways -- very relatable. It’s dramatic AF, with romantic lead Luo Binghe at the heart of a lot of that drama. It’s clever and I love the way the premise is used for both humor and pathos.

Tone-wise, it reminds me of works like Galaxy Quest or Northanger Abbey. Honestly, that light tone helps in some of the later chapters, which have content that is actually very dark and very heartbreaking if taken seriously, but because of the momentum of the story and the tone of the narrative, I didn’t feel like I got lost or bogged down in the darkness.

And I love the relationship between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe a whole heck of a lot. I think the way it’s structured is clever and sweet and sad and makes for an interesting story. There is an element of an unintentional romantic obsession that SQQ created by the way he flipped between kind and cruel (against his will, which is what makes it forgivable for the audience, imo, because SQQ wanted to always be kind, though not always for the most selfless of reasons) and how LBH had to try to mentally justify/rationalize how the same man could act in such completely opposing ways. And the narrative symmetry between how SQQ thinks of LBH as the center of the universe because he’s the OP Protagonist (!) but LBH thinks of SQQ as the one that everything revolves around and how that’s narratively true because, of course, in the story that we’re reading, SQQ is the protagonist and LBH is his love interest.

I also actually really appreciated the bad sex near the end of the novel -- sex-to-save-the-world is a trope that can easily get romanticized but here it’s (literally) painful and ugly instead, as all of LBH’s trauma pairs with the influence of Xin Mo on his mind. Even through the translation, it definitely feels like bad sex written well, rather than badly-written sex that is supposed to be good, if you know what I mean. Sex can be an important narrative tool in stories and I feel like MXTX uses it very effectively here.

I think I burnt through the entire translation in just a few days. I’ve been reading a lot of fanfic afterwards and I think my favorite so far is I Wish You Were My Husband by Feynite. It’s an AU but it keeps the same kind of vibe as the original story.

Bridgerton: Goodness, so enjoyable! Julia Quinn is not My Most Favorite of the various romance writers that I read but she was one of the first writers that really got me back into reading romance and it was delightful to see her world on screen. I don’t picture people when I’m reading novels; I have to have a visual first and then I can carry that into the reading, so it was nice to be able to assign faces to some of these characters that I’m already very fond of. Simon and Daphne had a nice amount of chemistry and I loved the Bridgerton family relationships.

I hope they get to cover all the romances in the series and continue to do some updating as well -- I generally liked the changes they made to Simon and Daphne’s romance (a few I wasn’t as into but could see why they’d done it -- mostly For The Drama). And I really loved what they did with Simon and Lady Danbury’s relationship. It took me some time to tell the three older Bridgerton brothers apart but that’s pretty much canon, lol. Anyway, I was invested enough in it all that I stayed up all night on Christmas eve to watch it all and I had no regrets afterward.

I started watching S2 of TharnType but then my work schedule changed and I was working on Fridays and (see above) I just didn’t have the energy to watch anything after work. I might wait and binge the rest of the series once it’s all out, now that it’s gone this long without me being caught up.

I do think I’ll take a break from Critical Role for a while, after it comes back. I’ve just come to an unfortunate place where the show literally cannot win with me re: the romances, as I’m annoyed when they happen but also, perversely, annoyed when they get ignored because my brain goes “they gutted beaujester for this limited amount of inferior romance? At least commit to giving an adequate amount of the romances that I dislike!”. And so it becomes a vicious circle. Good sign that it’s time to take a break. My unhappiness with one part of the show is overshadowing everything else and maybe some time away will change that. Or maybe I just need to pick it up again with campaign 3. I guess I’ll see how it goes. I also admit that I’d hate to pick up the show again only to have Lucien get killed off in a few episodes.

I want to try to watch some more shows in 2021, and maybe I’ll have time, if I’m freeing up several hours every Thursday.

I want to watch Heaven Official’s Blessing and I’ve had a translation of the novel on my phone for the entire year and I really do want to read it as well. I’d like to watch Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo’s new shows (The Wolf & The Legend of Fei) as the gifsets I’ve seen have been interesting and enjoyable, and there are a bunch of shows that I’d gotten recommendations about after watching TharnType that I still want to check out too. Plus, I have the new Stormlight Archives book and I want to read that as well. So, there’s quite a list.

It’s still probably gonna be quite stressful at work for a while, at least until I’ve had a chance to get the vaccine, but at least I am going back to Thursdays & Fridays as my days off at the start of the year, so I’m looking forward to that. I’m also hoping to get back to my detailed rewatch of The Untamed, because that was so much fun but I did not have enough brain this year to do any more of it.