#another awful shitty anniversary

[dyaz-stories]

'You smell nice' — Day one of Inukag Fluff Week

Just a fun lil one-shot for day one of @inukagfluffweek! There is a hint of background SessKagu too because I love them.

Mild warning for Inuyasha's potty mouth and that should be it.

Public transportation was the bane of Inuyasha’s existence.

First of all, whichever human had come up with the idea that half the population would stuff themselves into tin cans to get themselves to and from places, following the same precise and regular schedules every single day, deserved a trip straight to hell. It was easily the dumbest fucking concept known to man, and no self-respecting demon would have agreed to it.

Then there was the fact that there were people everywhere on public transportation, and man, did Inuyasha hate people. Gross, stupid bastards with no self-awareness and no regard for others. There were the students who’d bump into you without even noticing, the women recounting their day far too loud over the phone, and, the worst of them all, the gaggle of salarymen drunk off their asses after some reunion at work. Those ones were rude, entitled, clumsy, and, what was by far the biggest offense, they fucking stank.

And that part was what took the public transport experience from shitty to downright awful. The smells. Inuyasha was no fan of cities in general, their pollution, the sheer amount of things everywhere, whether restaurants, stores, or, of course, public toilets, and, well, the people. It wasn’t always the lack of hygiene, though that was an issue for sure, but the sweat after a day of work, the deodorants, the perfumes, they all came together to produce the foulest of stenches. He hated it here.

The train veered sharply to the left, and Inuyasha tightened his hold on the overhead bar he favored using. Fewer human hands had grabbed it, and since his height meant he had no issue reaching for it, he preferred that to other solutions. In front of him, Kagome hadn’t been so lucky, standing right against the door with nothing to hold onto. With a squeak, she stumbled backwards on her kitten heels, her back colliding with Inuyasha’s broad chest — not that there was really anywhere else for her to go, with how tightly packed the train was.

His free hand closed around her hip, stabilizing her. It came naturally, just instinct, no need to think about it or how nicely her body slotted against his.

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes looking up to him pleadingly.

“Sorry, Inuyasha,” she apologized, lips forming a cute pout.

“You’re good,” he replied, voice gruff. He sent a nasty look to the man on her right, who’d bumped into her. People usually steered clear of him, so the closer she was to him, the better. “You’re getting off at the next stop, right?”

“Yeah,” she beamed, and as always, he marveled at how easy it seemed to be for her to smile and distance herself from the mess of the world around her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shut down the noises, the smells, the flashes of people’s screens — well, unless he had her to focus on. “I can’t wait to get home.” An eyeroll. “Today was the worst.”

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Really? You didn’t enjoy Kagura making a scene?”

He knew he had. His sister-in-law was probably his favorite person in the family, actually, with his nieces a close second, and watching her strut into her asshole husband’s office to yell at him about him cancelling their anniversary dinner had absolutely made his day. They could never stay mad at each other very long, so he was sure a very expensive reconciliation was coming, but he’d had his fun for sure.

“No, I like Kagura,” Kagome replied. “But I got cornered by Hojo at the coffee machine and he wouldn’t stop talking about some miracle diet he thinks would cure my allergies and it took me forever to free myself.”

“Want me to do something about that? He never bothers me with that shit.”

“That’s because you terrify him,” she sighed, “so no, that’s not necessary, don’t—” Another turn, but this time he kept her pressed against him, clawed hand on her waist, and her voice barely wavered. “—worry about it. And thanks for that, Inuyasha.”

A knot formed in his throat at the way she leaned back into him without hesitation. He swallowed around it. Where most people cowered away from the hanyo, Kagome had never acted like he was a threat. Sometimes, he felt she was even a little too trusting. Made him feel and think all sorts of things he wasn’t very proud of.

“’s nothing.”

From how he stood behind her, he couldn’t help but catch her scent, especially when she moved and her hair were right under his nose.

And, fuck, she was a breath of fresh air. He’d known that from the first day she’d strolled into the office, of course, gust of wind blowing through the open door and sending her smell throughout the whole office. He didn’t know what it was, if it was the reiki he could guess at under her skin, that gave it such a pleasant flavor. Either way, it could become overwhelming even in the wide open space. Here, on the other hand, it was the perfect distraction against everything else, and it took more willpower than he’d like to admit to not just sniff at her.

“Everything okay?” she asked, catching him off guard, her big inquisitive eyes staring up at him.

“Yeah, it’s—” Damn it, he’d known she was always noticing things no one else cared about. “That’s— You smell nice,” he blurted out at last, and immediately, he wished he could slap himself in the face. What a fucking weirdo. Turned out, everyone who had told him his mouth was too big for his own good, usually before they got their asses handed to them, had been right. Couldn’t he have kept it shut this one damn time?

“Oh,” Kagome said, and her expression turned thoughtful. He waited for the inevitable judgment to fall down. “I read that demons often find perfumes difficult to deal with, so I haven’t worn any since getting hired at Taisho Inc. Is that really better for you?”

There was the knot again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment, and rather another, deeper emotion. Of course she’d pay attention to that kind of stuff.

“Yeah, it is,” he answered, clearing his throat. “Makes it hard to be around too many people.”

“That’s good to know,” she said with a nod. “Let me know if I can do other things to help you, alright?”

He would not be telling her anything about the thoughts that were running through his mind at her proposal. Nuh-huh.

“That’s my stop,” she grinned up at him, grabbing the hand at her waist and squeezing it gently in hers. “Thank you again, Inuyasha. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She waved at him, and a second later, she was lost in the crowd, and his world was just a little darker, duller, blander. He let his hand fall back to his side, flexing it reflexively as if to remember how it had felt, touching her.

Keh. He couldn’t believe she was making him look forward to another day in the office.

As a lot of you know, it's been ages since I last wrote for this pairing that's still near and dear to my heart, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Don't hesitate to scream at me about it in the tags, in the reblogs, in my askbox... anywhere your heart desires lol. Thank you for reading!

[ann1e-on-earth]

ACCORDING THE INSTAGRAM IT’S THE 10TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE BOOK SOLITAIRE BY ALICE OSEMAN!!!!!!!!

It’s my favourite book (and my comfort book) and I love it so fucking much!!!!

If you haven’t already read it, it’s about a teenager named Tori Spring who has depression. Her school keeps getting anonymously pranked by a group of people called Solitaire. Nobody knows who started Solitaire or why they keep pranking the school, but the pranks seem to be getting more and more dangerous (Ex: The first prank was just photo shopping a teacher’s head on Star Wars characters’ bodies, and another later one was setting of fireworks in a crowded area, causing a lot of injuries). One day Tori meets Micheal Holden, another teenager who has some anger issues and they sorta become friends. Together they both work to find out who is behind Solitaire and try to put a stop to it, but there’s some setbacks along the way.

The book is mainly about mental health issues, specifically depression, and how awful life is most of the time. You can find it in most bookstores and on any kind of eReader.

Anyways here's some shitty fan art of Tori that I made in January

[parkhaein]

hi everyone o/ meet haein, your local flop loser very bad no good awful shitty superhero! he works as the bartender at the pool because he can't handle a real job and would rather spend his time rolling around on the ground than do something useful with his powers. i'll leave some actual info about him under the cut but like if you'd like to plot with him

so what's the deal with him? (parental death + emetophobia tw):

his mother was a kickass aeternal named gale who was super popular but she retired to give birth to him (a great shame, many would say). the public kind of hated his dad for it tbh

the moment his dad found out he inherited her powers, he made sure to raise him to be a proper superhero even though his mom wanted him to live a normal life instead

he was just a kid though so he was like of course i want to be a cool crime-fighting superhero!!!

and to his dad's credit, haein did get pretty damn good at controlling his powers, learning from watching old recordings of his mom at work

everything seemed to be going his way, strong powers, good reputation, pretty face, but everything went to shit the year before he was set to become an official aeternal

his mother passed away shielding citizens from an explosion. it was the perfect heroic death for someone like her, everyone said

haein hated that. why did she have to die for something like that? for people like that? someone as invincible and cool as her shouldn't have died at all

his father was devastated, and haein lost his sense of self as the deadline for his induction drew closer and closer

the day comes and he feels like throwing up- he does, actually. all over the floor as the onlookers pick up their jaws just to scream in terror as the villains fired at them. thankfully another aeternal had been with him and he managed to fight them off and save the civilians, but haein's reputation was stained forever

the son that the people's beloved aeternal gale had given up her career for was a fucking loser.

he's promptly removed from the group after that, and after over two years of hiding from the reporters, he seems to have faded into obscurity

his father has gone back to pestering him to not give up on being a hero, but just the thought of it makes him sick now. he joined the collective only to get his dad off his back, and has no intention of progressing this career at all. sucks to suck.

anyways now that you know him, what do you want from him?:

i want to be his friend / you better not recognize him from anything or he'll shut you out forever. you guys probably just chill and hang out together, and if you're cool, he'll even make you fly for a bit. for funsies

i want to be his enemy / you recognize him and refuse to leave him alone. for whatever evil reason, you will not let his past go and want to remind him of it over and over. he's a pretty easygoing guy, but just remember he can shoot air bullets at you

i kinda want him... / ok... good luck! he's pretty friendly and one could even say flirty, but you'll find he's very much closed off to the world once you try to dig deeper. he isn't against the idea of dating, but he'll never be the romantic he paints himself to be

been there done that / oh so you're an ex or ex-hookup-turned-feelings? sorry about him... i can just tell he was inattentive and secretive as hell. more worried about what's for dinner than any anniversaries coming up. you get one free punch on him before i call the cops

i want him to succeed / ....you want that guy as your hero..? are you sure? he starts shaking like a newborn deer the moment you put him in front of danger. that guy is not the one you want protecting your life!! .... you still here..? well your life your decisions! just don't expect him to cooperate

i just want him / talk to him then damn i'm not his (dead) mom!! *laugh track*

[hlficlibrary]

any new really good angst?

Hmm...okay, so these are new(er) like within the last year that I loved and then I'll give you a few more that are on my to read list that are newer and by two of my favorite writers.

another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves

Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band. It's an unusual assignment from the beginning; Harry has a crush on Louis, and Louis's subconscious immediately decides Harry is the love of his life. When Dreamers cast Harry as their love interest, he can usually redirect them, but Louis is insistent on being Harry's boyfriend, and despite knowing they have no future, Harry wants to keep up the charade.

and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. But things are not always what they seem and a past grievance may change the lives of everyone involved forever.

your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

Three years have passed since Louis last saw him, but all it took was a few minutes in Harry’s presence for him to be relegated to the desperate twenty-one year old that was practically begging his boyfriend for an ounce of reassurance that he still cared about him.

Harry shouldn’t be here. He’s brought too many unresolved feelings with him, that Louis thought he’d never have to face.

It’s Harry’s apparent apathy that’s the most difficult to come to terms with. Anger, he could handle. Regret, he would welcome. But Harry’s amiability, and carefree demeanor can only be born from indifference.

He’s moved on. He doesn’t care. And that is something Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be strong enough to face.

OR - The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

TO READ:

Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee

“You really that desperate, are you?” Despite it being a shitty thing to say, Harry didn’t mind too much, as the bitterness in Louis’ tone sounded like music to Harry’s ears. Harry was winning tonight. “Can’t find anyone new to be interested in you, so you try to hit on Zayn.”

“I can’t find someone interested in me?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re having a laugh, mate.”

“Yeah, well, where are they, then? Because from what I’ve heard, you’re here alone.”

“As if I’d bring anyone to somewhere I knew you’d be. I wouldn’t wish your presence on my worst enemy.”

“Aw,” Louis cooed in a way that made Harry want to slap him. “You’re saying I’m not your worst enemy?”

“For someone to be an enemy, you have to give a shit about them. So, no. You’re not even on the list.”

“Oh–kay. Well, it’s been lovely as always, gents,” Zayn said before knocking back the rest of his drink.

Or the one for the Bottom Harry Fic Fest where Harry bottoming is more of a side plot, because angst got in the way--but it doesn't really matter because the fest stopped existing when I was halfthrough.

with venom on your tongue by wildestdreams

While Louis had to try so hard to stay focused and be the best, Harry somehow did the same things with ease and confidence. He hated how Harry glided through life, carrying happiness on his shoulders like it was nothing when it was arduous for Louis. His carefree demeanor made Louis feel crazy.

But that feeling just motivated him to always keep his eyes on the prize. Number one in the class rankings every year and the valedictorian spot the next year when they graduated. He was so close he could taste it. And if the only thing in his way was Harry Styles, then Louis was willing to up the stakes to figure out what made him weak just to beat him.

“Whatever,” Louis eventually said to Liam. “He’s a fucking cliche.”

or a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought.

[scribe-awoken]

I just realized that this year is the 9-year anniversary of the time I pulled off an absolutely unhinged prank on Halloween so I might as well share this with y'all.

So the story starts 10 years ago on Halloween of 2014. I went trick-or-treating with some friends from my local library's anime club, and the night is fairly typical. We walked around town for a couple hours, a pair of twins in our group who live in town invited us to their place to inventory our candy and do some trades, the usual.

While we were going through what we got, we look at the big zip-lock bags of candy we got from one house we stopped at, and we notice that there's a pamphlet inside. One person in the group read his pamphlet out loud. It started off with a bunch of fun facts about bats, before going into a bunch of evangelical Christian screed at the end.

We all kinda rolled our eyes at it, but I had memorized which house it was that gave us those pamphlets, and I had a plan.

Fast forward to the following year. Halloween landed on the same day that our library's anime club held its meetings, so we were walking over after school when I lost my footing and sprained my ankle. Now, I am nothing if not committed to the bit, and I had no way of getting a ride home at that time anyways, so I sucked it up and limped the mile to the library, then limped another mile to the local McDonald's where everyone was meeting up.

So I'm spending most of the night limping around town in my shitty cereal killer costume (a hoodie with a bunch of mini cereal bags pinned to it, each of which had a plastic knife stabbed into it), when we finally get to the one house that gave us the pamphlets the prior year. I begged everyone to stop at that house, and they were like "you mean the one that gives out the weird religious pamphlets?"

I was like "Yeah, that's the one. Trust me, it'll be funny." It took some convincing, but eventually everyone agreed that they'd hang back and watch while I go up to the porch and go through with my plan.

So I limped up, one of the two old ladies at the porch took one of the zip-lock bags and shoved it into the huge Great Value corn flakes box I was using as my candy receptacle, and I immediately reached into the box, pulled out the bag, fished the pamplet out of the bag...

And took a big bite out of it.

At this point, I was not only in pain from having walked several miles on a sprained ankle, but also dealing with a mouthful of the glossy paper the pamphlets were printed on, which tasted absolutely awful, but it was absolutely worth it for the looks on their faces.

[dogcodedcatboy]

pre relationship: 3, general: 3, 6, love: 10, 13, domestic life: 7 !!

hihihihihihi !!!! i cant wait to start s2 tonight i need to see my kittycat i need to see him !!!!! thank u for always sending asks my aaroman warrior o7 u should rb this ask game 2 so i can pelt u w waystarshipping and jermstone questions

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

absolutely fucking not!!!!!!

by the time any of the roys find out its too late, theyre already very much together. i think the fam knows abt aaron before 04x03 and like, willingly keeps him a secret (have 2 believe none of them would out a family member for personal gain. if not just to avoid the shitstorm for logan). some of them wuld obviously would prefer for roman to a) not be gay or b) at least not be dating a Fucking Weirdo. oh well!

aarons friends are also not. thrilled. for obvious reasons. reactions range from 'ok...u r gold digging, right? does this mean we can afford a hot tub :D' to 'morally/ethically what the Actual fuck is wrong with you bro???'

What was their first kiss like?

hmm the first time they kiss probably an impulsive. half-drunken thing. prolly after their first '''date''' (which roman insists is not a date despite calling him up and inviting him for dinner and drinks). it's rlly messy, roman is kind of an awful kisser at first (out of practice #nobitches) so aaron is kinda like...ok....but it's very endearing somehow.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

i could write a dissertation on. aaron and the roys. i think he's...polite? i mean, he knows roman is super close to them despite how fockin shitty they are to him all the time, so he's willing to grin and bear it. he doesnt like ken for Reasons (annoying on twitter, involvement in 'dog pound', annoying in real life)*, he's rightfully intimidated by shiv, he thinks connor is rlly fuckin funny, he has a weird psychosexual obsession w tom (as stated, would put tom in a saw trap), he thinks greg is cool and would like to talk about his record collection w him.

*authors footnote: i personally like kendall a lot i do love the fucked up brother dynamic between ken and rome BUT aaron is protective and an asshole and doesnt care abt nuance if youre mean to his boyfriend you go to the gulag for 1000 years ! aarons friends are hsi family! he lives w his childhood + college besties! they are all spectacular assholes as well so roman weirdly fits in! roman likes aarons bff because he is also a snarky asshole. one of aaron's college friends actually is from LA, so that's another person he can relate to somewhat. ovi he's a rich asshole tho and like, has to adapt to how normal people live and socialize (aaron and his friends arent even normal theyre like a weirdly codependent found family) but. they all kind come around to him! (will post extended oc universe lore someday on god)

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

i think they both are kinda stupid abt feelings and prefer physical affection, as sometimes its easier to manage than like, pouring your heart out. aaron is big on words of affirmation tho, once they r more comfy in their relationship/roman is more comfortable w receiving stuff like that.

Who remembers the little things?

aaron is def a romantic, he's big on anniversaries, quick to pick up little things like roman's coffee order, his favorite snacks, etc. roman is a little rusty but is surprisingly sensitive when he cares about someone. he's super in to aaron, so he makes sure to note all of aarons favorite movies and albums (so he can bring them up later and Totally sound like he knows what he's talking about).

[also they r a beautiful ocd (aaron) x adhd (roman) couple so in general aaron is Incredibly on top of things (or else he might die, who knows!) while roman is a fockin mess with remembering shit.]

Who kills the bugs in the house?

the real answer is gustav. he eats them. aaron will hold the cat up and he will take care of business.

[raigash]

It’s You, It’s You… (Must Go, and I Must Bide)

Whumptober 2023 Days 25 (Storm) and 31 (Emptiness)

Trigger Warnings for disordered substance abuse, parental grief of a mentor figure over the death of a child (age 17), and general awful mental health

The lights are bright and glaring above the bar, casting down their judgments in shades of brilliant amber. They shine harshly down upon the man seated at the very last barstool. His head remains tipped down, warding himself against their unblinking stare. The shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes seem to weigh the whole of his body down.

There is a storm in the air, tonight. Good for the ground that’s been without rain for so long. The dull drone of the TV- one still set to the news channel and not some inane sports game- declares it so.

With trembling hands, Robbie takes his sixth shot of the evening. The glass, small and delicate in his hands, has floral designs etched onto its surface. Curling vines wrap around the circumference, splitting off into flowering branches at random intervals, and a lacework design rings the top and bottom rims. It is a special glass, specifically for the absinthe he’s drinking like water tonight. He doesn’t stop to appreciate it as he returns it to the bar.

He grows nauseous if he allows the chill of the glass to linger against the phantom burn in his palms for too long.

The din of the crowd prickles like needles over his skin, an unwelcome agitation in the face of this bloodstained anniversary. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. He thought submerging himself in the World’s teeming pool of life would help, but it just makes him remember more.

Just makes him angrier.

What right do they have to be dancing to this shitty music? Drinking these shitty drinks? What right does he have to be among them?

The heat coursing through his veins feels too sickeningly familiar. He can practically taste the smoke in the air, can feel flames reaching for his skin as if to drag him down to the depths of hell itself. He deserves it all. The fire. The ash. He deserves to burn on the pyre he built with his own stupidity.

Five hundred and sixty seven years to the day, and still, the screams echo so clearly through his head that he could lose himself in them, if he’s not careful. Shrill and pained, they plead for mercy from a sleeping god, and from a man who could not save him.

Just a man, in spite of everything he’s ever tried to be. A foolish, selfish man, ever on the run from his own mistakes.

He picks up the glass once more, instinctually bringing it to his lips for the burning relief. Instead of spirit, however, he finds only air, and the lingering dregs of his last sip gone sour. Something sharp and jagged inside him rears its onyx head. Everything is too clear, once more, and he needs that to change. He needs that to change now.

He waves a hand at the young bartender milling aimlessly at the far end of the counter, growing agitated as the whelp clearly notices his presence, but hesitates to approach. Robbie allows another five seconds of being ignored before he snaps twice, the sound ringing out through the low noise filling the room. The kid- Brandon, according to the beat up name tag dangling from their chest pocket- winces at the sound before finally turning his way. If it were any other night, he would have taken pause at the dread he was causing. As it stands, he just quirks a frustrated eyebrow as the other draws near.

“How can I help you?” Their voice is pitched high, a blatantly obvious customer service voice that he wants to scoff at, but he doesn’t. But he wants to.

But he doesn’t.

“Th’same way you’ve been helping me all night,” Robbie grumbles instead, pushing the small glass their way. He doesn’t make direct eye contact as he speaks, instead focusing on the fidgeting of their hands. Anxious. They’re anxious. Why are they anxious? He just wants another drink.

“I….don’t think I’m allowed to do that, sir.”

Ahhhh. That’s why. Good reason to be anxious, he supposes.

He does look up just a little more, now, a warning stillness falling across his countenance as his eyes rake over the child standing before him. Late twenties, probably, and a college student, if the cheap rubber bracelet on their wrist is any indicator. Just a child, in this wide world, trying to carve their way. He tries to remain civil, at first. He truly does.

“And why, pray tell, is that?” They have a scar above their right eyebrow, and freckles dust their tan cheeks. His lungs give a tortured squeeze in his chest when he realizes just how similar they look. And the eyes…. Dreamer above, he’s not drunk enough for this.

Their eyes are a soft cornflower blue, practically glowing beneath the fluorescent lights of the bar.

“The law dictates that we cannot sell alcohol to individuals that are overly intoxicated,” Brandon tries to explain, worry scrunching their otherwise smooth brow as they reach to take the shot glass from the table. No movement is made to refill it, he notices testily. “And you are….well…,” the kid flounders, clearly not knowing what to say next. It’s a scripted line, he knows, but still, Robbie seizes the chance to try and argue his point until he wins.

“‘I am’ still entirely too sober. I’m holding a coherent conversation with you, and you can understand me, can’t you?” He argues, eyebrows drawing together in a rare show of open annoyance. The kid is just doing their job. But right now, the pale gleam of concern in their too-blue eyes grates like barbed wire, and all he wants is to numb himself to the agony he can’t escape. “Isn’t that usually the baseline for determining intoxication levels at a glance?”

As if one more drink will do what the first six hadn’t.

“I can, but Sir, this is…people get alcohol poisoning from far less than what you’ve already had, and in good conscience, I just don’t think-”

The creature of shadow and pain that writhes beneath Robbie’s skin thrashes against the continued denial, and civility gives way to its animalistic braying. Who are they to deny him this barest kernel of relief? To act as if they know what he needs, what he can take? What do they know of what he can withstand? Nothing. They know nothing.

“Do I sound like I’m in danger of succumbing to alcohol poisoning right now? I could do your damn calculus homework for Dream’s sake! Do you need me to spout the fucking- the quadratic formula, to prove that I’m of sound enough mind to order another goddamn drink?” His left hand finds the table in a decently loud thud as he finishes, punctuating his fury in the best way he knows how right now.

The kid’s face falls from stunned to panicked throughout his rant, and Robbie can feel the claws of guilt digging into his flesh like knives when their shoulders jump in response to his outburst. Those eyes pierce him, even when anxiously averted. The spirits already coursing through his veins burn like gasoline set ablaze.

Monster

He’s a monster

Shutting his eyes tightly against the shame, he rubs the bridge of his nose, willing his looming migraine to disappear by sheer force of will alone. He should have known better than to come out in public tonight. The silence of his apartment had been too heavy to bear, but he’s only taken that burden and given it to someone else. Someone else just trying to survive in a world dead set on making that impossible.

On and on the wheel turns, crushing those just trying to survive beneath its cruel spokes. Beneath his cruel spokes. He never learns.

“Just…go get me your manager, please, Brandon.” He doesn’t look at the kid as they go. The speed with which they move away from him tells him all he needs to know about the damage he’s wrought. He won't be able to return here in this lifetime.

When they return with the night manager, Robbie is long gone, and so is the absinthe bottle that had been sitting behind the counter. In its place sit two crisp $100 bills, as well as a hastily scrawled note on a bar napkin. Don’t blame the kid. This should cover the tab.

-—-

Having exiled himself from the company of others, he maunders down the darkened streets like a ghost. Pavement melts into sidewalk, which melts into more gritty pavement. Whole blocks go by in what feels like only a handful of blurry seconds. What reason does he have to stop himself? No one waits for him, at home. He has all the time in the world.

He walks without turning until the distant bark of a dog turns him down another avenue. Lila never stopped barking, no matter how many times he came around. No matter how much the family tried to ease her dislike, she was always at the fence when he arrived, teeth bared and snarling. She would never take food from him, and even refused to leave the room if he was working with Daniel, despite obviously being unhappy with his presence. He never understood, then, why she hated him so completely.

Now, he just wishes she had been successful in chasing him off, like she’d wanted so badly to do. Just wishes he had listened to the advice she had been trying to deliver in the only way she could. She had been right, all along. And her charge paid the price for Robbie’s obtuseness.

That tends to be the pattern, when he is involved. Everyone suffers the consequences of his worst mistakes, save the fool who fucked up in the first place.

He gets to live on. He gets to remember.

It isn’t until he feels the squish of sand beneath his feet that he realizes just exactly how far he’s allowed himself to stray. His legs and lungs seem to stop working at the same time, and shakily, he brings the bottle back up to his lips to take another steadying swig.

Why did he come here? Why did he do this to himself?

There is no willow tree overlooking this body of water. No charred remains beneath the soft ground of the clay banks. Still, he can feel the haunting presence watching him from beneath the surface of the raging sea.

Daniel always wanted to make the trip to the seaside. Robbie had always promised to take him, someday.

A poorly placed step makes the world lurch beneath his feet, and the world spins around him. His limbs feel heavy and uncoordinated, his movements slow. It seems to him that ghostly hands emerge and grab him by the ankles to drag him down into the dunes, and he only barely keeps his footing against their assault.

When he looks back down, shaken, there are nothing but lifeless grains to be found. Nothing but shifting sands, spilled from a broken hourglass. A chill wracks his frame as he feels the clouds finally collapse beneath their own weight, and the first droplets meet his skin. The storm begins overhead, and Robbie takes a deep breath as nature’s sorrowful sighs flood his lungs.

Looking back up over the sea, he can see roaring flames reflected in the wind-tossed waters, embers rising up like spectres as the rain falls in sheets. His clothes are soaked through in minutes, but he can barely feel the cold through the yawning emptiness inside. What does the temperature matter to him?

What does anything matter to him?

He walks the shoreline as he ponders that very question, keeping his eyes cast out over the water. How often they would pace at the lake’s edge, leaning on its serenity to help clear their minds. How often they had laughed beneath the boughs of that sturdy willow, shielding them from the midsummer sun.

How often he remembers those sun soaked days, now that he finds himself alone in the dark again.

Alone is better than at fault, he reminds himself listlessly as his heart cries out its misery to deafened ears. Alone is better than burying a body.

It is maybe five more minutes- and two more heavy sips of absinthe- before Robbie stumbles once again. This time, however, he cannot save himself from making the tumble. And once he finds himself having fallen, he can’t muster the strength to get back up. He has lost the chase, this time, fair and square.

He has lost.

He lets the memories consume him, tearing into his flesh like a pack of rabid animals. Ruthless teeth rip apart the stitches he’s been trying to sew for generations, splattering the ground with his blood. In the bleak light of the morning, he will have to disinfect the wound, and begin again. Cradled by darkness as he is now, though, he gives into their hunger. Allows his agony to nourish them.

Alone, again and always, he sits face to tearstained face with his demons. And in their cold, dead eyes, he finds eternity staring back at him. Only they will walk with him until his final days. Only they will never leave him.

He does not make it home, this night. Graceful unconsciousness finally finds him curled up in the damp sand, empty bottle clutched close to his chest. His lips are chapped, and his skin is chilled. Eerily reminiscent of a corpse, if only as another example of life’s cruel ironies. The rain continues well into the morning, but Robbie has finally succeeded in deafening himself to its melancholy song.

Sometime in the early afternoon, he will awaken, and brush the cadaverous sleep from his eyes. He will shake the sand from his hair, and carry his aching body back to its empty home.

Tonight, Robbie finds dreamless sleep in the cloying arms of the green fairy.

Robbie Tag List: @lektricwhump @tormentum-ab-intra @salamancialilypad @wildfaewhump @whumptober

[jmagnabo92]

S&H Bonding - Mirror Talks - Ch 16 Aftermath of the Article

The Article hits Hogwarts and Harry's having none of the people suddenly believing him - luckily for him, Cho wants to give him her Valentine's Present. Elsewhere, the order meets to discuss the article leading Sirius to give Harry some advice on how to handle it and someone realizes the mistake they made and attempts to make it better.

AO3

***

Knowing that the article was coming out that morning, Sirius had woken up early so that he could be around when Harry inevitably needed him.

Sure enough, right after what would be breakfast time, his mirror goes off.

“I hate it here.  I hate these people.  I hate everything.”

Sirius frowns, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Harry retorts back before going into details.

Apparently, everyone had been quick to read the article and write into Harry about their thoughts.  Although most of the letters had contained assurances that they now believed Harry and condolences for the shitstorm he’s been through (some going so far as stating that they’d be taking up ‘his cause’), while others had called for a one-way trip to Saint Mungo's, Harry is furious at all of them.  He’s angry that those that suddenly believe him, only believe him because they had read his worst memory to understand and believe him.  

He’d been so angry that when Seamus had come to him to apologize (after Umbridge had given him another month’s worth of detentions for ‘spreading his lies’), he yelled at him in front of the whole hall.  Everything he’d been feeling with regards to be suddenly believing him because they needed him to relive the worst night of his life (even pointing out that thanks to the dementors he knows it beats out remembering his parents being murdered) that a simple apology wasn’t going to cut it this time.  That it was insane how anyone could have expected that they had a right to know the trauma he’d been through – even bringing Hermione and her actions that led to this point into it.

He laid out all of the times that he’d forgiven the students and the general population for shit they’ve put him through and how he’s had enough.  That they’re lucky that he doesn’t have an adult that cares enough and is able to take him away from this shitty country and that he hates Voldemort more than he thinks everyone should reap what they sow hence doing everything he can to see an end to him.  Like making sure that everyone is aware of his return and could prepare for it despite knowing that keeping his mouth shut would have made his life a lot easier.

“And then I stormed out.  Everyone’s probably going to go back to thinking I’m insane.”

Sirius’ heart breaks for his kid.  He deserves far better than this.  “Aw kid.”

“That’s all you got?”

“No, of course not.  I just can’t figure out the right thing to say here.”  Sirius sighs, “Just give me a minute.”

Sirius tries to think of what would be helpful here.  He understands Harry’s point far too well, people poking at your sore points and thinking that they have a right to invade your worst memories is awful, but now that it’s out there – alienating those choosing to believe now wasn’t going to help. 

Before he could think of what to say, Harry suddenly shoves the mirror in his bag still activated.

“Hey Harry, doing alright?” Cho asks, (at least the voice sounds like Cho from the last time he’d heard her voice).

Harry must’ve given her a look because she says, “Right, stupid question.  I just want you to know that I’m a hundred percent on your side and you’d be surprised how many were hiding that they always believed you but were afraid to say something.”

“Yeah, I know some were…”

“But I didn’t come out here for that.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I – well, because of all the craziness, we never got the chance for me to give you my present for Valentines and our six-month anniversary…”

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything…”

Sirius laughs.  Clearly his kid doesn’t get her hinting here.

Cho giggles.  “You’re so cute, you know that?”

Harry coughs, “Cute?”

There’s a sound of a quick kiss.  

“Let’s skeeve off today,” Cho offers.  “I could give you my present in the prefect’s bath?  Meet you there in a half hour?”

Harry’s clearly still stunned because she whispers something in his ear and he squeaks, “Yes.”

Another sound of a kiss and a teasing, “See you soon.”

Sirius can’t believe what he just witnessed so to speak and bursts out laughing.  The laugh attracts Harry’s attention.

“Did you…?”

“I did,” Sirius laughs.  “Good for you, kid.  You could use the distraction.”

Harry blushes.  “Yeah, I just…”

“You’re stunned.  That’s okay.  It’s okay to say no if you’re not ready, too.  Just remember what we talked about alright?”

Harry nods, “Thanks, Pads.  Talk to you later.”

“Bye kid,” Sirius replies, still laughing.  At least his day is looking up.

***

Despite knowing that it was coming and Harry walking him through what the article was going to say, and that Harry could get into trouble, it was still a shock when it was presented at the Order meeting the night the article came out.  

The members had come in talking about the paper and why they hadn’t considered doing it sooner to help the cause.  Sirius had explained exactly what Harry had yelled about in the hall and why he was so upset with Hermione regarding springing something like this on him – he went through hell, he barely managed to talk about it with him and Dumbledore that night, and he absolutely deserves to never have to talk about with anyone else ever again.  Let alone to a reporter for the whole world to know the very private details of his personal hell, especially that reporter.  

Most had an ashamed look on their faces, a few argued if it could help them than why his feelings matter?  If it weren’t for Remus and Bill holding him back, he would’ve attacked Moody.  Considering the Moody part of the situation, he thought he’d be more understanding, but apparently not.

Dumbledore had actually agreed with Sirius, which makes him happy because it shuts down those arsehats that want to exploit Harry (even if it’s too late since Hermione already did that). 

Now that it’s been done, they could use the article to their advantage – warning more people, gathering new members, and hopefully getting enough of the public to question Fudge that they could oust him.  Not to mention that they had outed multiple high level death eaters, it’s possible they could push for some distance at least with those marked death eaters.  

Unfortunately, Fudge is trying to combat the situation by banning the Quibbler within the Ministry and Umbridge banning it within Hogwarts.  Dumbledore didn’t seem worried, however, since he knows that it’s far more likely that the students and general populace will find other ways to read it now that they know Fudge doesn’t want anyone to read it.  

The evening edition of the Daily Prophet had even denounced the Quibbler as trash and to not trust the article of the interview given by Harry (although he’s described in awful slanderous words).  Words that made Sirius want to break his promise and see to Fudge earlier on, rather than waiting.  Maybe he could get Dobby to mess with him?

The discussion was a long one and reminded Sirius that although Harry’s rightfully upset, ultimately this is a good thing – at least now, they could make some headway in the situation.  At least telling him how helpful it could be to the Order might help Harry feel better about the situation.  

Finally, Dumbledore ends the meeting.  Leaving Sirius with Bill, Kingsley and Remus sitting in the corner while Molly opts to cook dinner and Arthur chats with Tonks and Moody on the other end.  

Since the meeting is over and mostly everyone’s gone, Bill leans over and asks, “So, do you know why Harry missed his occlumency lesson today?”

Sirius narrows his eyes at Bill because he sounds as if he knows that he’s not the sole method of communication between Sirius and Harry.  “How would I know?  You didn’t get a letter from him today.”

“Relax, I don’t intend to tell on you or anything,” Bill says.  “It’s just been plainly obvious to me and anyone who’s been paying the least bit of attention that you and Harry have an alternative way to talk.”

“What makes you say that?” Sirius asks, impassively.  He would not be giving up any information regarding his communication with Harry.

Bill laughs.  “Oh, Sirius, if you didn’t have any communication with Harry and then suddenly had communication via me, your letters would be more than ‘got valentine’s day / girlfriend issues’.  The letters are too short – cute little notes that don’t really indicate that close of a relationship – and given what happened over the holidays, it’s quite clear that you have an extremely close relationship.  Plus, you almost never listen to my debriefs about Snape’s arseholery because you clearly already know.”

Bill has a point, of course, and it doesn’t help when Kingsley adds, “Besides, you know way too much about what’s going on with him at Hogwarts for it simply to be quick notes from Bill and no notes in the fall term.”

“But we won’t say anything because we’re too curious for the answer to tell on you,” Bill offers.

“And because it’s clearly been good for both of you,” Kingsley comments.  “You’ve gotten a lot better since September, which makes no sense unless…” you have a way to talk to your kid.  

He doesn’t have to finish his thought for Sirius to get where he was going.  

“So, you going to tell us?”

Sirius gives him a look, but then looks at the laughing Remus, “You know they’re right; it has been very obvious.”

“Fine, yes, I do have a way – through some mirrors James and I made when we were twelve so we could talk to each other while in separate detentions,” Sirius explains after casting an anti-eavesdropping spell he remembers from school.  “He says my name into his and his face appears in mine and I can talk to him.  I went to check on him after I saw him dead on the floor thanks to the Boggart before school started and we ended up talking.  I gave him the mirror and it’s been quite the godsend, honestly.”

“You and James were so codependent that you couldn’t even have detention without each other?” Bill laughs.  

“That’s what those mirrors were for?” Remus questions, sounding incredulous.  “I mean, I know you use mirrors for you and Harry, but somehow never connected the dots back to the mirrors you and James used to carry around.”

Sirius gives him a look.  “Why else would we carry around matching mirrors?”

“Well, I – I thought you were just… vain.”

Sirius shakes his head and looks at Bill, “We weren’t codependent – we just liked talking to each other and being by each other – even in detention and …”

“And now what you mentioned the other week makes so much more sense,” Bill states, with a laugh.

Sirius rolls his eyes.  “Okay, that’s not the reason why – we made the mirrors in first year.”

Kingsley is giving them a confused looks that although Bill and Remus are chuckling.  

“Maybe you just didn’t realize,” Bill teases.

“I should’ve realized,” Remus jokes.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius says.  “It doesn’t matter why we created the mirrors, it’s just that we did, and I gave Harry the mirror and I – I talk to him pretty much every day.”

“Nice,” Bill grins.  “So now, back to my original question, do you know why didn’t show up today?”

Sirius coughs and laughs, “I don’t think he’d want me to tell you all, but let's just say that Cho followed through on her bubbles plan.”

“No way, really?” Bill questions.  “I was fairly certain that I talked him out of bubbles at least.”

“Well, I don’t know for sure, but he was talking to me after the chaos Dumbledore mentioned when the article hit Hogwarts, when Cho found him and offered to skeeve off classes and follow through with her original Valentine’s night plan had Hermione not ruined it,” Sirius smiles.  “I haven’t heard from him since, so I figure he’s been thoroughly distracted all day.”

They all laugh, even Kingsley (who could obviously put the pieces together).  

“Good for him,” Kingsley says.  “I’m sure it helped quite a bit.”

“I agree.  Nothing like having that kind of fun for stress relief,” Sirius says.  “Certainly, miss it.”

“You know, since you’re single now and have been for a while, you could find someone else, if you wanted,” Remus offers.

Sirius shakes his head, “I’m in hiding, Moony.  Who am I going to date, Moody?”

“Gross,” Bill and Kingsley respond.

Remus rolls his eyes, “There are other men in the order.”

“Not many – most are married or gross,” Sirius replies.  “And don’t you dare suggest Snivellus.”

“Nah, you two would kill each other first,” Remus jokes.  “Besides, he’s obviously not into men considering he’s still pining after…”

“Ah, right,” Sirius responds.  “That’s good because he’s definitely a no-go.”

“What about Kings,” Remus offers, nodding at the auror, who helpfully wiggles his eyebrows at Sirius.

It’s not that Kingsley isn’t attractive, it’s that he’s not James.  Which isn’t a fair standard by any means, Sirius thinks, but he can’t help it – he wants James.  

“Yeah, how about it, Sirius?” Kingsley teases.  “Think you’d like a crack at this.”  He gestures to himself in a way that makes all four of them burst out laughing.

“You’re certainly intriguing, but you also work for the Ministry that’s after my head.”

“Fair point, but I’ve been heading the manhunt away from where you are and I do have so many interesting photos of you in my office,” Kingsley teases.

Sirius thinks about all of the erotic photos he’d done for James whenever he had to be away from him for an order mission, but there’s no way Kingsley found them.  Just as he opens his mouth to refute this idea, the other three burst out laughing.  Obviously, a joke.

“Oh,” Sirius breathes relieved.  “You were joking.”

Suddenly, the three of them are looking at him, intrigued. 

“Wait, wait, wait, you have photos like that?” Bill asks, looking interested.  “Can I see them?”

“No!” he pauses.  “I mean – no, I don’t have any photos like that, and you have a girlfriend!”

“Yeah, but she’s been curious, too,” Bill offers as Remus says, “Lies.”

“Fleur has been curious about me?” Sirius asks, not sure if he should be flattered or concerned.  “You’re curious about me?”

“Well, yeah, you used to be attractive.”

“Used to be?” Sirius asks, offended.  “I am still very attractive.”

“I agree.  That’s why you should give me a shot,” Kingsley offers.  “I would make you feel sexy, again.”

It is tempting, but he doesn’t think he could do it.  His heart still belongs to James even if he’s gone.  

“If we ever got caught, you’d be in more trouble than the average bloke.  I wouldn’t want to put you in that position,” Sirius offers as an excuse to let him down easy.

“Fair point.”

“You know, maybe Charlie might –” Bill starts.

“No,” Sirius states, startling them.  “Look I appreciate your efforts, but honestly, my heart still belongs to James, I’m a fugitive and I’ve got a kid that’s the center of a war.  I don’t have time for dating, and I don’t really think I could even consider someone else right now.”

“Fair.”

“But if you all are looking to set someone up, you should try helping Remus with his little crush,” Sirius teases, wiggling his eyebrows at Remus.

“I told you nothing is happening, and you need to drop it.”

“Right because those doe eyes prove nothing is going on,” Sirius retorts.

“He’s right, Remus,” Kingsley adds.  “It has been obvious for months.”

“I disagree because there’s nothing going on,” Remus states, plainly.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s the truth.  Besides, I’ve got a mile long list why it can never happen – even more than your reasons for not dating Kingsley,” Remus says, giving Sirius a look.

“You’re a fugitive, too?  I had no idea,” Sirius jokes, causing Bill and Kingsley to laugh.

“Shut up, you’re not funny.”

“Judging by the laughter, I’d say I am,” Sirius grins, but before Remus could respond the gruff voice of Moody says, “What are you lads up to over here?”

Dispelling the spell, Sirius says, now frowning, “Nothing to worry about, Moody.”

“Why don’t I believe you, laddie?” Moody frowns.  “No one uses an anti-listening spell for something that’s nothing.”

“It’s just something private, Mad-eye,” Remus states.  “Nothing concerning.”

Moody probes with some specific questions for several minutes, in which Sirius’ frown deepens.  It bothers him the way that Moody is acting as if he has some sort of right to break Sirius’ privacy, the same way the order mainly acts towards Harry’s privacy. 

Finally, Sirius says, “If I tell you that it’s private and that it’s none of your business – it’s not.”

Moody opens his mouth to counter when Kingsley intervenes telling Moody, ‘That he needs to let go of that need to know everything attitude and realize that he isn’t owed any knowledge he wants’.  

Moody gruffs and mutters some unintelligible before limping away and leaving the kitchen.  The somewhat fun mood obviously killed.

***

It’s much later, when Sirius is half asleep (because he’s convinced Harry won’t be calling tonight), when Harry does, in fact, call.  

“Pads!” a cheery voice shocks him out his slumber.

“Hey kid,” Sirius says, rubbing at his eyes and trying not to look that sleepy.  “You look happy.”

“And relaxed,” Harry smiles.  “I know it’ll be ruined tomorrow, but I had a great day after we talked.”

“I bet you did,” Sirius smiles.  “I suppose you’re calling to tell me it went well?”

“It did – I didn’t realize what I was missing,” Harry grins.  “We started off in the Perfect’s Bath, but then Malfoy was going to crash it according to Dobby, so he took us to the Room of Requirement.”  He pauses.  “Which reminds me – have you been having him spy on me?”

“No, absolutely not.  I wouldn’t do that to you after last summer.”

“Oh, good.”  Harry pauses.  “But then why would he be around to help all the time?”

“I think he bonded to you and decided to basically be your elf after you rescued him,” Sirius offers.  “But it’s only a partial bond because he was able to leave and get paid by Hogwarts, so it’s a bit complicated to be sure.”

Harry frowns.  “I don’t really like having an elf.”

“I don’t either, but I don’t really know for sure, it’s just my assumption,” Sirius says.

“Yeah, anyway.  I just wanted to call you back because we – er – got interrupted.  How’d the Order react to the article?”  

Sirius tells Harry about the order meeting emphasizing that he doesn’t necessarily agree with the members of the Order that wished to have disregarded Harry’s feelings by doing it sooner.  

“…so it seems like there is something good that came out of the article.  Even though it’s awful that they suddenly believe you, we don’t want to alienate anyone who is potentially on our side now.”

Harry frowns, “Does that mean I have to apologize to Seamus or Hermione now?”

“No, but if they apologize again, I’d consider potentially just accepting it or at least not yelling at them, again.”

Harry shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s not like I consider these people (aside from Hermione) my friends anyway.”

Sirius nods, but before he could broach how things were going with Hermione (whom Harry hadn’t spoken to since Valentine’s Day, now more than a week ago), he hears another voice.

“Harry?”

“Hermione,” Harry offers, putting the mirror face down inside his bag.  He’d been in the common room for once because of the anti-listening spell and it being empty.  “What are you doing up?”

“Oh, er, I was waiting for you, actually, but I had to run upstairs real quick – what are you doing with that mirror?”

“Just checking out my reflection,” Harry lies.

“You were talking to it, and you’ve been carrying it around and doing that a lot lately,” Hermione replies, clearly sensing his lie.

Harry sighs, and Sirius wonders if he’ll tell her the truth.  

“It was my dad’s… Pads gave it to me,” Harry offers.  “I – er – pretend to talk to him or Pads, you know just to get out my frustrations about … things.”

It’s a half-truth that Sirius thinks will likely convince her.

“Why don’t you talk to me and Ron?”

Harry snorts.  “You’ve kind of proven that you don’t really understand how I feel, which I guess isn’t your fault – you haven’t been put through what I’ve been put through and you have loving supportive parents and … and all that.”

Hermione is clearly surprised by his statement.

“And you don’t usually get punished like I do either,” Harry says, clearly thinking about the phrase on his hand due to Hermione’s brilliant article plan.  “I mean, I’m lucky I haven’t been killed or expelled yet this year.  Lucky that the detentions aren’t all night anymore.”

Hermione clears her throat uncertainly, “I – er – wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I, er, I didn’t consider the repercussions of my actions on you, specifically.  I was thinking of the whole picture of all the good it’s already doing if Bill’s note means anything, and how important it is for everyone to have that information…”

“And it’s more important than my feelings,” Harry says, bitterly.

“Yes.  Well, I thought so.”

“Thought?  Past tense?”

“Yes, I – er – you were … somewhere today… and the talk of the castle.  I was also part of that because everyone knows what I did.  A lot were only okay with it because they wanted to know what really happened, but even those types made comments about me being a bad friend…”

She pauses as if waiting for Harry to assure her that she isn’t a bad friend, but when he doesn’t, she continues.

“And I think I was a bad friend… in this case.”

“Do you think that because you do care about the effects of your decisions on me or because other people are telling you that you should consider yourself a bad friend for it?”

“I’m not a bad friend, I’ve supported you through so many things…”

“Stop, Hermione.  This isn’t about whether or not you’ve supported me or how many times because I never said that you were a bad friend –”

“But the fight with Seamus –”

“ – I said that you, my best friend, didn’t even consider my feelings on the situation because you’re being bad friend in this instance… it’s not the first and won’t be the last time – and I am not perfect either, but you’re not in general a bad friend, we just haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye this year,” Harry interjects to get his piece heard.

“Oh,” Hermione frowns.  “I – I came here prepared to talk about all the support I gave you last year –”

“And that was great,” Harry says, cutting her off.  “I wouldn’t have been able to handle both you and Ron hating me plus the school all on my own, but it doesn’t affect this year.”

“We have been at odds a lot,” Hermione admits.  “Not used to that – with Ron, it’s normal.  With you, it’s heartbreaking because… because you’re my first friend.”

“I am?  You don’t – consider Ron…?”

“No.  I don’t,” Hermione states.  “It’s just – at first – even after the troll thing, we still struggled a lot, and if it weren’t for you… but you know, we did genuinely become friends, eventually.  I’ll always consider you my first best friend, though.”

“That’s – er – I guess that makes fighting this year worse, huh?”

“Yes, it does.”

“So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Harry questions.  “Because I honestly don’t get it.  What happened over the summer that you’re following Dumbledore’s orders and living at my Pads’ house without me and – and not considering my situation at all?  I just – it feels like I left with the Dursleys and suddenly, you don’t seem to care anymore.”

“I do care, Harry.  I just – I’m not used to you… disagreeing with me.  I mean, yeah, there was that Firebolt thing – which I was right about – but suddenly, this year it’s like –”

“– I suddenly grew a backbone?  Fighting for your life will do that for you,” Harry finishes.  

“Yes, I understand that.”  Hermione clears her throat.  “Anyway, it’s just been hard to be fighting with you.”

“Is that to say that you think I shouldn’t stand up for myself…”

“No, no, of course not.  I – it’s just… I’m not used to not being the one that you listen to, that you go to for advice to, and instead, fight with.”

“I know,” Harry states, “But you do understand, don’t you?  About the problem this year?”

“Yes, your girlfriend stealing my spot in your life,” Hermione responding sounding jealous.

Sirius frowns a bit.  Although he’d joked about it because Cho is clearly jealous of Hermione, he hadn’t expected Hermione to be jealous of Cho.  Clearly, Harry doesn’t either.  

“What?  Hermione, no one’s going to steal your spot in my life.  You’re my best friend.  Cho’s my girlfriend.  There’s a big difference.”

“But she’s basically me except pretty and snogs you.  She even does your homework…”

“She does not!” Harry insists.  “She helps me learn from my mistakes and encourages me to find the answers myself.”  Harry takes a breath.  “But that doesn’t even matter because she’s not replacing you in my life.  Just like Neville would never replace Ron in my life even if we are talking more and have gotten closer.  Is that really what this whole year has been about?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione says, sounding distraught.  “It’s just after third year, I never wanted that to happen again, at least, I never wanted to have the issue of you not talking to me, again.  And then, fourth year happened, and I thought I was guaranteed, but then, it ended so brutally.”  

“And?  Go on, I still don’t understand.”

“Well, I wanted to do right by you, but I wasn’t sure how to do that, so I listened to the Order and Dumbledore, and when you started dating Cho and – and studying with her and listening to her over me…”

“Because she understands that I have gone through something traumatic and assured me that it’s okay that I work through that on my schedule … she wants to protect me because she cares about me, and she wants me to stay safe and not expelled or worse… I mean, of course I’m going to listen to her – she’s focused on me rather than what’s best for everyone.”

“And I’ve only been focused on the impending war.  Worried about you and me and what’s going to happen with the war…”

“You’ve been a little more focused on the world, the people who are innocent and will suffer if they can’t do a basic shield charm, but honestly, it’s not like I don’t get what you’ve been trying to do with the DA and the article or even in encouraging me to keep fighting Umbridge despite the fact that I’ve got permanent scars on my hand… but…”

“But if I was the good friend that I think I am, I would’ve thought about how you’ve gotten punished for my ideas whether it was emotional turmoil or through the detention.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry – I really am,” Hermione insists.  

Sirius isn’t sure if it’s enough considering that Harry has been hurting and the discussion didn’t quite seem like Hermione thought she was wrong, just that she should’ve also considered Harry’s feelings.

“Would you have done it, again?  The whole manipulating me into the DA and the article?  Knowing how it’s affecting me?”

Hermione’s quiet for some time, long enough that Sirius is sure that Harry’s going to be unhappy with her answer, but then…

“I would actually tell you and lay out my reasons if I had to do it, again.  And I’d actually listen to you if you said no or if you weren’t ready,” Hermione states.  “Rather than ambush you as I have, but I wouldn’t not suggest it.  Because they have been good things… haven’t they?”

“The Order seems to think so, I happen to just accept it, I guess.  It didn’t exactly help me, but I know that it does help the overall goal of dealing with the war.  I don’t think I like calling them ‘good things’, but I could be a little … not bitter, but I’m not exactly feeling like they’re good just yet because I’m still upset.”

There’s a pause.  

“Does that mean you’re still angry with me?”

Harry sighs.  “No, I’m not.”

“So, you accept my apology?”

“Yes, I do.”

It’s quiet for another minute as Hermione likely hugs him.  

“Alright, well, I’ll let you go back to talking to Sirius,” Hermione says.  “And see you tomorrow.”

Harry coughs.  “What? I – I told you that I was talking to my Dad – not really, but… pretending to.”

“And you think I believed that?”  Hermione laughs.  “It’s so obvious, Harry, I am surprised that it’s taken me this long to realize it.  I mean, that mirror has been attached to you since the start of the year – you’re always off on your own, the way you and Sirius bonded over the holidays, not to mention calling him ‘Pads’… it’s just obvious.”

“Well, I – er – should neither confirm or deny that…” Harry starts.

“But you’ll tell him I said hello?”

“Maybe.”

More laughter before the sounds of Hermione walking away become obvious and Harry reappearing in the mirror.  “Hermione says hi.”

Sirius laughs.  “I heard.  She also seemed to be genuinely sorry and I’m glad you two made up.”

“You are?”

“Of course.  Hermione’s been a good friend, she just made some missteps.  It happens, no one’s perfect.  I mean, the situation you’re in is pretty unique and she’s just been doing her best.  You both have, really.  You’ve reigned in your anger and aimed it at the right person (sometimes that has been her).  It’s too much to expect either of you to not have struggled this year.”

“Yeah, I guess.  I was surprised that she thought Cho would replace her in my life.”

“Hmm-mm, it was a surprised to me, too, but it does make sense.  The three of you – you, Ron and Hermione are incredibly close and it’s understandable that when a new person enters into the equation that it would throw off the dynamic.”

“And since she thinks of me as her best friend, it does make sense that she might be – jealous – a little.  Like – like with Ron.  I just never considered Hermione being jealous.”

“I didn’t consider it either,” Sirius admits.  “I thought it was just Cho being jealous of Hermione, which makes sense, but I suppose that jealousy works either way.”

“Yeah, anyway.  I’m feeling better.  I know tomorrow will be a disaster, but at least, it’s working out and Cho promised that we could hang out after my detentions and things if it gets too much, again.”

Sirius chuckles, “Or even if it doesn’t become too much?”

Harry blushes.  “I think I’m going to bed now.”

Sirius smiles, “Well, I’m always here if you want to talk – promise not to tease too much.”

“Uh-huh, I believe you, Pads.”

“You should because I mean it,” Sirius grins.  “Love you, kid.  Good night.”

“Love you, too.  Night.”

[transdike]

An excerpt from an early draft of my current WIP A Funeral for Stella Carson

Content Warnings for: Violence, Death, Gore, Dismemberment, & Shitty Exes

Hard wood floors groaned under her feet as she entered, dust swirling in the air as the door shut behind her. Everything was covered in dust, a fine gray-black layer over a perfect Victorian bedroom. Dark woods prevailed: from the small canopied bed and the towering mirror face of the wardrobe, to the agonized faces in the carved relief above the fireplace and the writing desk that lay opposite. Cobwebs hung heavy from the crown molding. The dying embers in the hearth cast a low and cooling light, but despite this Stella still felt the terrible heat.

A small chair faced away towards the fireplace. A pedestal was set next to it with a crystal glass of bourbon. In the chair was a woman. She wore an expansive white dress that trailed on the floor towards the fireplace, ends burnt and smoking as if she had been feeding it to the flames. Light blonde hair curled towards her face, with its porcelain features. When she spoke Stella knew it was with a startling solidity, hard as diamond.

Primrose Dearly looked at her with deep, vacuous eyes. She had been Stella's first girlfriend, her confidant, her rival. Prim had ardently challenged her at any opportunity and on any topic. In high-school she used to pull Stella out of the driver's seat anytime she tried to drive, tossing her to the pavement and chastising Stella for her awful driving and self defense alike. They had been co-presidents of the school's bible study group for two months, before being simultaneously kicked out. Stella would beat her GPA and Prim would break into her room, stealing anything not nailed down. Prim won a contest to visit Hawaii and Stella made out with other girls until she'd gotten mono and then gave it to Prim the week before the trip.

It had taken Stella years and a lot of therapy to really understand what had been so toxic in their relationship; the therapy had been a last ditch effort by her mother, after a particularly disastrous anniversary of Prim's death. Stella knew that the woman in front of her wasn't her Prim, was just another copy, she had seen the body, but this Prim was staring at her in that exact way and with that specific, totally fake, grin. The corners of her mouth pulled up just so, neutrally happy but very amused, like she had known all along what happened next. Stella used to practice it in the mirror. That longing, which had died with Primrose and been buried in church and therapy, was returned to her.

"Is this really you?" asked Primrose. "You have so many pretenders," and she stood up, dust falling away from her body like dry sand. It flicked away last from her lashes as she finally blinked, her eyes off of Stella for a microsecond. It was cold outside her gaze.

"I think I knew you were here," replied Stella.

"I have seen you here exponentially, but none of them knew me and fewer found me," she took a drink, the film of dust on the liquor’s surface not reacting, like a ghost, "and do you know how sad it is, to find that someone you hold so highly in your heart knows you in only, what, one in a thousand lifetimes? But, now you're here, and mine again."

"You aren't mine," said Stella, her thoughts held supernaturally still.

"We understand each other, regardless." She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "Please follow me, dearest." The wardrobe opened to reveal a staircase. The mirror face turned and Stella saw herself in the reflection. Taller by more than a head next to Primrose, dark hair unkempt and her clothes shabby. Her eyes were glassy and filled with something she didn’t recognize. The ends of her dress had torn, while the borrowed shoes were damp and uncomfortable. She looked like a chronically tired and messy woman.

Prim stepped into the wardrobe and through to a cold stone staircase, her gown trailing downwards behind her. Completely anachronistic to the warm room they had left above, here everything was damp. The walls were sealed with a waxy slime that oozed thickest from the higher bricks and grew darker in color as they spiraled down. Every step had large indentations where her feet set down, like people had been walking this pathway for hundreds of years. The walls closed in on them as they descended, narrower and tighter until Stella’s shoulders brushed against the sides. Brown wax clung to her.

Primrose was always just out of sight, her trailing dress kept Stella several steps behind. Her thin frame was perfectly suited to the tight space, like it had been built for her. Absently, the barest passing thought, Stella wondered why she wasn't frightened. She wasn't afraid, nor did she feel she could throw her arms around Prim and cry with the relief of seeing her again.

“You wore glasses. My you did.” said Stella; talking was the only thing she seemed capable of.

“I did as well. I got better, this place has miracles if you put your faith in it.”

“To me, you died.”

“So passive. You died as well,” Primrose paused, “I missed you.”

“I missed you.”

“Was it fire?”

“Yes,” Stella said slowly.

“I died. I… died,” Primrose rolled the word on her tongue. Testing it out.

“Years of therapy.”

“Mrs. Worlington?”

“No, I left town. Big city shrink.”

“I stayed. I stayed and walked by the ruin of your house every day knowing you were no longer within. That sounds like a much worse fate.”

“The city has to be worse. Thousands and thousands of people who don’t give a shit about you, packed tight like sardines. Also, it smells terrible. Like Weed, and Piss, and Gasoline.” This was a familiar rapport.

“And full of therapists who are not Mrs. Worlington and her lisp.”

“Mrs. Worlington never actually cared if you showed up, just marked your session as complete and billed it. You ditched every one, didn’t you?” The city, big enough and loud enough an organ to animate in the stead of her own beating red heart, removed and locked still away in a dream blue tote kept under the stairs of a house that didn’t exist.

They had come down to a landing, where Prim paused and looked at her again, trail gathered in one hand. The blazing heat returned. She was smiling eye to eye, the genuine article.

“I am coming to believe that you may be more yourself than when I knew you. Come on.” She gathered the train and took Stella’s hand, leading her down the last of the stairs. Her palm was clammy and rough fingernails were scraping against Stella’s hand where they touched.

The flight emptied them out onto uneven ground. It felt like outside air, moving idly and even colder than the stairs. The space around them was massive and covered in a light mist; barely visible above them was a kind of metal framework, like a spider’s web. The floor was concrete, but loose carpet tiles had been piled all around in the millions. If Stella had squinted, the scene might have resembled a black desert, the tiles forming dunes around them. Prim walked out onto the mounds, still leading. Hills spread out into the fog farther than she could see.

After several minutes, they crested the largest dune yet, and looked over a massive crowd. Thousands of Sodomites stood shoulder to shoulder. White flakes of salt pooled around their ankles. Every eyeless head turned to look at the pair, and with a casual flick of her wrist, Prim parted the sea. The ground itself sent debris retreating from her. The masses were scrambling over each other to keep clear of her. Some twisted and shook with what looked like fear.

“Come quickly, before Pharaoh catches us,” Prim said quietly.

At the very center of the amassed crowd was another hill of carpet tiles, upon which stood a long white table. Two places had been set at the table, crystal glasses and fine porcelain dishware that Stella knew from Prim’s mother’s house. It had always sat behind glass when Stella was over. A quite large serving platter and silver lid had been placed in the very center.

Prim led her to a chair, where Stella sat. A candle near her place setting had melted nearly all the way down. Wax had pooled under her forks.

“I lit those candles months ago, in anticipation of you, but they had never burned lower until this evening.” She walked to her setting and retrieved a knife. It was long and slender with a forked end. A carving knife. “I am still in love with you,” she said, hand on the cloche.

Slowly, with a gravity all its own, she revealed their course. It was Stella. Naked, foggy eyed, and younger, her hands and feet were bound with red ribbon. Stella barely saw her for how she had been locked into Prim’s eyes. The blue heart of flame that was burning at her edges. Prim took the girl’s head by the hair and dragged her limply across the table and right to Stella’s plate. The girl moaned at the rough contact.

“I love you. I love you and I missed you. I love you, I love you and I know— I know that you are so right for me.” Prim shifted her grip on the knife. The girl met Stella’s eyes. They were foggy with cataracts, like she had spent a decade staring at the sun. Under the fog, Stella saw her own horror looking back at her. Both of them were stuck, their bodies kept limp.

Prim tucked the knife under the tied girl’s chin and turned her face to the rapt crowd around them.

"For myself," she cut the neck in a fluid motion, watching the blood spill onto Stella’s plate and into her cup. She lowered the knife across the body, "and for you," she sliced open the skin low on the stomach and dropped the knife, reaching her hand into the new folds in the skin. Prim pulled tenderly on the flailing girl's organs, revealing the long red mass within. Straining against her ribbon ties, the girl let out a whinging breath. Intestine connected Prim's hand to her, a red string between them, as several feet emerged from the wound. Blood ran off the table. It was steaming in the cold air. Prim took the organ in both hands and released it like a dove into the air. The intestine flew only a few feet. It landed heavy in Stella’s lap.

Primrose slumped her back, the ceremony draining out of her, and she licked her fingers clean of the blood. It lingered on her lips. Mirroring the motion Stella touched her own lips, the last of her lipstick from the wedding coming off red and wet on her fingers. The organ's pulse was loud against her thighs. The poor girl looked vaguely at the mess on Stella’s thighs, but stayed still. Neither of them could move, or take any unpermitted action.

Opposite her, Prim stood up, whispering softly, "alright," which was what signaled the ocean of sodomites below the table to swarm. They came for the body, piling on top of it, piling over Stella. A thousand hands pulled at her, reaching for the meat in her lap. This was how the girl really died, being pulled apart. The long cut to her neck had quickened things, maybe it had made her fade faster, feel fewer of the hands that broke her down. Stella saw her face once more before it was taken, and thought that the girl might have been the right age to be Lue’s sister.

“I hope you see. That you understand.” Prim was barely audible over the noise.

The salt covered men chunked the girl, secreting away the remains and restoring the cleanliness of the church. A finger to one, a foot to another, pieces of skull and sodden innards were all separated and carried away by the indistinct figures. That they also tore at Stella, trampled her in their blind flailing for an ounce of flesh, was just as indigestion. It did not take long, under this crush of flesh and spreading gore, for her to be gracelessly overtaken.

[heartshattering]

/// family venting

I was trying to figure out why I have been feeling so off this Valentine's Day. Another all-day migraine bad enough I had to take my prescription med for it, vivid nightmares, panic, and just an uneasy feeling trailing after me even though I'm doing something with friends tomorrow. But I guess it's that this Valentine's marks one year since my uncle died, which was also when my aunt started staying here on-and-off.

She's coming to stay here this week again which I already saw coming. But I'm still dreading it because I still haven't been able to do everything she wants me to do. It's gonna be super noticeable that I'm still struggling with sleeping 'normally' (I barely sleep at night these days and don't have a doctor to monitor my sleep issues anymore). But of course she's going to blame it on me being 'lazy', analyze every single thing I do, criticize me, complain to my parents about me and how I never do anything, etc.

She also keeps complaining about my puppy even though I have had him for several months already. And even though she doesn't physically hurt him, I hate when she yells in his face since he's already on the nervous side and being yelled at doesn't accomplish anything except getting him to hide. Plus he's not her pet for her to be yelling at anyway. He doesn't even do anything to her, she just yells when she sees him because she knows it will get him to go away, but it's not like he tries to bite her or do anything to her.

I am just so exhausted. I'm not in the mood for anything and I feel bad mentally and physically. I'm trying to stay positive and hopefully she won't be too awful but knowing that she's just around the corner definitely explains why I have been feeling so off lately. Plus it's surreal thinking my uncle has been gone a whole year already. In a couple months, it'll be another family member's death anniversary too. I still can't believe I lost four family members just months apart from each other, and honestly no one in the family has recovered from it yet. Or the deaths that happened before either. I feel like it's been one shitty thing after the next, I know it can always be worse but seriously I just want a break sometimes.

Honestly I don't know how I'm going to keep handling things, especially because when my aunt is around I have less ways to cope healthily, she literally doesn't want me doing anything for myself, neither does my mom tbh but my aunt is even more pushy about it. Like I know the time will pass no matter what, and I have already survived all my other bad times and all that, but still my anxiety has just been terrible, my physical health has been suffering, the people who were supposed to help at the hospital made things worse, and I just feel like I can't escape.

[lightspren]

i really just need to go to sleep bc i am having a Rough Time with the brain and i need it to stop

i’m freaking out about work. both shit that i don’t want to deal with tomorrow, which is a lot, and not being there for four weeks. the last few weeks have just been shit piled on shit, never getting caught up, constant feelings of drowning. and i thought i’d hit the fuck it point of not giving a damn if it implodes while im gone, but apparently not bc i’m still worried. it won’t stop.

and the cats are acting itchy again, and while it may be nothing and me just being hyper vigilant about their behavior, it’s enough to send me spiraling about bugs again. I’m freaking out at every bit of black fuzz, i can’t stand to have the cats touching me - and then i feel like a shitty horrible person for pushing them away. because they just love me and want attention and they can’t understand why i’m freaking out. the bug guy comes for a follow up check on everything wednesday so I’m going to have spouse have him double check everything, but god.

and i had my pre-op visits for surgery today, and got hit with a “surprise! you owe $400 for surgery and it has to be paid by the day before your surgery.” Like in all the calls they’ve given me with estimates, they had yet to ever say I’d owe that much up front. I was assuming I’d be able to do payment plans out of our HSA account. but of course not. so instead I had to use half our savings, so that’s another stressor again.

and i’m trying so hard to keep it together, and it’s not like everything is entirely awful. i’ve made new IRL friends for the first time in literal years, and i AM looking forward to a desperately needed break, and our anniversary is tomorrow which is always nice. i’m just exhausted by my own mood swings and anxiety.

[optimistredsox]

April 13, BOS @ TB, 3-9, Loss

Apparently today is the 7th anniversary of this blog. I started it in the 2016 season, a couple of weeks after opening day. I figured I was looking at another Sox disaster in the making after two horrendous losing seasons (’14 & ‘15) where we lost loads of promising home-grown talent. 2016 was off to a similarly awful start. The, as soon as I started writing this, the Sox kind of started turning it around. They won the division in 2016. They didn’t go any further, but winning the division is hell and gone from finishing dead last, so there was that. 

Now, 7 years later and off a losing season and losing loads of homegrown talent, here the Red Sox are getting swept in St Petersburg by a Rays team that appear to have been in the queue behind Mr Johnson at the crossroads to sign some sort of deal with the devil. I fucking hate the Rays and I have done for a long time. For them to own the best start to the season in the modern era is irksome. I hope their eventual fall is Icarus-like.

But I am so disappointed right now I can’t even muster any venom to that hatred. All the Rays did was beat a team that, quite literally, let themselves get beat. The Sox score first, then Kluber gave up the lead. The Sox got the lead back, then Kluber gave the lead back and so much more I’m sure there was discussion of the mercy rule in the bottom of the fifth. 

Anyway, we got swept. The Rays are undefeated and the Sox are definitely defeated and perhaps a little deflated. But hope is not lost, regardless of deflation. There are some bright sides, and perhaps even a bike pump around here somewhere.

We scored first, and had the lead. Managing to be proactive was pretty good. Even if it was, you know, wasted. 

That outrageous seven-run fifth was full of ridiculous, flukey, shitty, soft-hit, nonsense hits by the Rays. That sort of dumb shit can’t happen all the time. I’d rather bad luck that shitty ball every time.

Refsnyder started the game off with a dinger in the first. For someone with a .182 batting average he seems to be doing things. 

Justin Turner had another 2-fer, knocked in one and scored one.

At least we only used three pitchers.  

Maybe this is the clean slate low the Sox need to begin their scrappy and heart-warming climb to redeeming the season? I don’t need a Championship, I will just settle for a winning record. 

Well, at least that’s fucking over with. We don’t have to go back to that shit-pit park/stadium/field until Labor Day. 

[theradicalace]

another angrynegative rant under the cut don't mind me

GOD, i hate the way my brain works. i had hoped after the breakup i would at least get to keep the good memories of the time we spent together, but they're all tainted. they say hindsight is 20/20 and it really is, but the clarity and perspective are a fucking curse because now every memory is poisoned by my own anger and i can't think about it without it darkening my whole mood.

i will be the first to admit that i'm not blameless. i could have reached out more often, talked more outside of work.

but what i will also say, is that while i was shitty at texting, i did so much to try and show that i cared in other ways. there were days i would pull up to my shift up to an hour and a half early to spend time with her. i don't like being touched, but i put my own comfort aside to touch her and let her touch me because it made her happy. i bought her gift after gift just because the things i saw made me think of her. i listened to so many near lectures on cars and wrestling just because i liked to see her talk about things that made her happy.

and what did she do for me? made fun of me for not liking touch. made fun of me for not wanting sex (she swears she didn't mean anything by it, but the jokes persisted). made fun of my interests for being nerdy.

i didn't care that she never bought me gifts in return. i understood her financial situation. she said my valentines gift would be a card, and i was excited for it! never got a card. she said my anniversary gift would be "something from the heart", and i was sincerely looking forward to it! nothing. the only thing i can ever recall her giving me at all was a bottled water that she tossed at me while i was sitting in the break room, because i had posted about my chest hurting that day.

i understand that relationships aren't transactional, but fuck, what DID she ever do to make me feel loved? occasionally call me handsome and masculine? she said she felt hurt and forgotten, but i feel like the butt of a fucking joke.

i don't want to think about this. it feels genuinely awful to be so angry at someone i used to think so highly of

i honestly don't know how we lasted that long without me seeing it for what it was. not to quote bojack fucking horseman of all things, but i guess it's true that when you look at someone through rose colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.

[1892]

So uhm…kind of a sad update. I’m so so sorry I really hate to put a dampener on this I was having a really really good time but…my boyfriend broke up with me because I wouldn’t let him convince me to eat another square. It’s my fault kinda not seeing the red flags beforehand before now but I stood my ground! But he took the necklace away that he gave me for our 3 year anniversary. No biggie I’ll just continue finishing a dress I started working on and enjoying my high, but ouchie ;-;

aw anon...i'm so sorry :( this is so shitty and i'm so glad you were able to stand up for yourself and you're so strong for being able to ride it out, take shit as it comes to you, etc. i'm proud of u for working through it like that even when you were high, props to you, this is very mature. sending love and good vibes of course <3 :(

[technicallyblakebelladonna]

i agree with ALL of this fr like. i have only seen full gameplay of chapter 1 (a twitch streamer i enjoy watching was playing it and i was like okay what the hell might as well watch), and from what i saw of her gameplay, it had its decent moments. and when the narrative slowed down it was actually good! but what really threw me off was how.... weirdly horny or utterly unserious everything was coming off as??? the one-off kinds of comments or interactions you could have max engage in??? like, i'm specifically thinking the scene with amanda after safi's "death" where she comes over to comfort max after, yknow, one of her supposed closest friends DIED, and max is very strangely FIXATED on how much of a mess her apartment is??? like i GET it, you could say that it was just max trying to cope in a way that she could control ("i cant control safis death but i can control how my apartment looks"), but it felt OFF. like it was less of a coping mechanism and more of a "i have to clean myself and my place up bc a pretty girl is coming over" like that kind of tone??? like this friend who ALSO knows safi??? and so would understand that max wouldn't have had the energy to clean up her place literally two days after said other friend's death. that was what really stuck out to me in chapter 1, and not in a good way

but that being said, like i mentioned before, when the narrative stopped and let the moments rest, it was very nice. they CAN do the "let's give this sad moment/serious moment the respect it deserves" but like..... it would so promptly be ruined so i can't even say that it was a consistent good thing. like again that scene with amanda WAS very nice (after the weird cleaning up thing), but then the end of it was ruined by amanda saying goodbye and max asking if they could hang out again, and amanda says "you know where to find me" in a very cute kind of tone..... which max's internal monologue was to reply "fuck me" in the WHINIEST most pathetically needy voice ever. idk who directed hannah telle to sound like THAT but i'm blaming them.

and that's not even talking about what happened to chloe and her mischaracterization, bc ur correct. or the meta OUTSIDE of the game itself in the whole "people can change a lot and break up" -- like FINE. that makes sense, that's very real. but the meta is that.... people have spent TEN YEARS with pricefield, like you said yourself. it's not about what's realistic for the characters really, they don't exist in reality! do i believe that max and chloe could/would have broken up? i sure do! truthfully, i think they absolutely would have had rough patches. but they are characters, and in reality, these characters have been a lifeline for some folks. these characters have been happy, have adopted kids, have gotten married, have been through anniversaries, have struggled and fought and reconciled for TEN. YEARS. in the minds of fandom. it feels so incredibly callous that they would actually impose and force reality on max and chloe (and not even in a way that's TRUE to chloe's character -- the couldn't even be bothered to try, instead they made rachel and/or steph 2.0 like jesus). like i know some folks are taking it WAY too far "pricefield truthers" or whatever phrase folks are tossing around arbitrarily as if they are holier-than-thou and proudly claiming that chloe is the worst fucking person on this earth for rage bait. i know people have been harassing devs, writers, actors who arent even INVOLVED with DE, only involved with D9 from prior games, and my anger towards the game and the treatment of the characters doesn't stop me from seeing how shitty and awful that all is. but genuine criticism isn't harassment, and a lot of folks are getting lumped in with that portion of the fandom and that sucks

also, i actually only peripherally knew about Another Storm thing being in DE and that's just...... that's so lazy. LMAO

and the nightmare sequence that literally requires that you need to have played LiS1 to understand it (apparently safi and max "cosplay" as chloe and nathan from the first gun scene in the bathroom -- and also there's at least 1 reference to the vortex party), like when folks from marketing said "you can jump right into DE and after playing DE, that's what will make you want to play LiS1" like where is the SENSE in that statement??? jfc.

and then "max caulfield will return" GIRL. HELLO?!?!?! NAH MAN.

and if that's not enough

so uh. how we feeling abt DE now XD idk if you've played (i have not) but consider this ask the place for u to vent and bitch away abt anything u like regarding DE

OH MY GOODDD

Ive never played it and probably never will but based on the reviews I HATE IT ALREADY. They did Chloe so dirty. Shes loyal af and has abandonment issues and you’re telling me she doesnt want to get tied down????

Also max getting rejected and using her powers to travel to another timeline to get w that other girl???? Feels so wrong oh my god. Like I want to watch a gameplay cos I want to know what happens but everything ive read has been HORRIBLE so far.

Also the storm?? what storm!! why are they bringing back elements from the first game with no correlation at all 😭😭

Pls I need to know ur thoughts I am going crazy I waited 10 yrs for this only to be so utterly disappointed

[isa-ah]

i think one of the hardest parts about losing my grandparents is it takes very little to reopen the yawning hole in my heart and a very long time to sew it back up. it never really goes away but when i think too hard about them i get this bone deep pain, physically in my body, like id throw up if there was anything more than just a vast emptiness. it happens a lot this time of year.