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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 5 years ago

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5 times you infuriated me and 1 time you made it okay

A/N: okay so the 5 times concept is something i enjoy writing very much, however i am aware that in this piece in particular, a lot of the ideas are underdeveloped and probably especially dont make sense with the ending when you look at the relationship, but please keep in mind that this ‘5 times’ theme i chose focuses on those kinds of incidents so there are a lot of other times in between (and i dont have the time or energy to turn this into a super long fic but perhaps one day.. ) so this is what happened!

Warnings: mentions of torture (like in the 7th when Bellatrix takes to Hermione)

Tags: @expellimarvelous and for some reason my hp taglist got lost so let me know if you’d like to be added!

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I. Bad Start to the Sixth Year

Your sixth year at Hogwarts seems to be off to a good start as you laugh and snack on sweets with two of your three your best friends on Hogwarts Express. Or at least it seemed like it was off to a good start until the train arrives at the station, and Harry is nowhere to be found.

Waving off Ron and Hermione with a promise to catch up, you insist on going to look for him by yourself. Your search leads you all the way to the other side of the strain where the blinds are conveniently drawn. You can hear a voice muffled through the closed door, and you become filled with dread when you identify who it belongs to.

Sliding the door open a crack, you see a familiar head of slicked-back platinum hair. You aren’t able to make out what he says, but you do see him bring down a foot to meet Harry’s nose.

“Malfoy, what the fuck?!” you burst out, causing the Slytherin boy to jump in surprise.

“Y-Y/N- I-I—”

“I don’t know what the bloody hell you think you’re getting away with, but you better get the fuck off this train before I curse you,” you snarl, shoving him aside to get to Harry. Seeing that he’s been petrified, you take your wand out of your jacket pocket and mutter, “finite,” to which your friend thankfully wakes up, blinking a few times. He doesn’t move much, as he tries to regain control of his muscles, and you insist he takes a moment to do so.

Throughout this, Draco has gone so quiet you think he might have actually left, but when you turn your head to meet his stormy eyes, you’re filled with rage, once again.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?! Get out!”

“But Y/N, I-I'm—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you say in a lower tone as you tend to your friend, not even sparing him another glance.

Why is it that just when you think there might be a redeemable quality buried deep in Draco Malfoy, he always does something that proves otherwise?

II. Welcome to the Slugclub

“Okay, okay! I was gate-crashing! Happy?” He admits, trying to shake off Filch’s grasp on his jacket.

His eyes that used to be sharp and bright, have recently become sullen. They lock with yours for a solid moment before he’s ushered out by Snape.

Your eyes linger on his figure as he’s led away from the party— probably longer than they should have, but you can’t help noticing how thin he’s become. You’ve barely seen him all year, despite having a few classes together. He was never that hefty to begin with, but it looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in ages. Other than his usual perfectly tailored wardrobe, he now wears dark circles under his eyes, and it’s impossible not to notice how the contours of his face have become that much sharper and his already pale skin has adopted a sickly pigmentation.

You and Harry follow the pair out, but for different reasons. You know that Harry wouldn’t be happy about yours because of his suspicions, but Draco looks like he’s crumbling under stress.

Eavesdropping only proves Harry’s doubts about Malfoy, and he then decides to rejoin the party as to not get caught by Snape, but you hang back, telling him you need to go to the loo.

You wait in the shadows until you hear Snape’s steps scurry away before approaching Malfoy who stays behind, sitting on a ledge. A half-smirk appears on his face upon noticing you like he’s been gathering an arsenal of insults to shoot at you, but really, under the snide mask, he marvels at how lovely you look tonight.

“Straying from your date with Potter?” he spits out Harry’s name like it’s revolting to have on his tongue. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think Potter’s lady is ditching him in favour of a more refined pureblood—”

“He’s one of my best friends!” You roll your eyes and flail your hands up in exasperation. “And how is the nature of our relationship any of your business?!”

He snorts, leaning his back on the walk behind him and crosses his arms over his chest nonchalantly.

“You know, I came out here to check and make sure you were okay!” You shout at him hands coming up to furiously push your hair back. “I can’t believe that for a second I thought that— no- but you—”

“You thought what?” His voice has become softer, hard exterior starting to peel away in your presence. He stands from his seat, mild concern washing over his features.

You shake your head, looking anywhere but at him. “N-Nothing—”

“Tell me,” his hands place themselves on your biceps, long fingers curling around your arms gently.

You fall victim to his intense gaze, getting lost in the grey seas of his irises. His features aren’t as hard as they usually are and the grasp he has on you is delicate; like he’s afraid to hurt you and you almost feel like you can let your guard down. Almost.

“Is it true?” you ask him, diverging from the subject and he raises an eyebrow in response. “Did you hex Katie Bell?”

He opens his mouth, and then closes it without a word when he realizes he has nothing to answer to that and you’re the only person he can’t lie to. That’s enough of a confirmation for you. You let out a breath of disbelief and he starts to panic, because contrary to the backwards dynamic the two of you share, part of him does care what you think. “Y/N- p-please listen—”

All emotion leaves your voice as you tell him, “Just leave me alone, Malfoy.”

You shrug him off, and spin on your heel, breaking the eye contact. Walking down the hall, you leave him there to bask in the silence and his dark thoughts.

III. Hair Like You

You’re already teeming with rage as you scour the castle for Ron, who slipped you one of Fred and George’s prank snacks that ended up changing your hair color. Running into Draco Malfoy, of all people, really puts the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

To make things worse, it looks as though he’s going out of his way to get to you when he spots you from across the courtyard. At first he squints, not fully sure if it’s you with the new physical change, and then tails you down two hallways, not giving a single damn how creepy he may look.

“What do you want, Malfoy—”

“It seems like you’re more obsessed with me than I had originally thought,” he snickers, catching up with your quickened pace.

That’s when it hits you, and you instantly halt, causing him to smack into your back. Spinning around to face him, your eyes widen in horror as you take in the familiar platinum blonde hair— the same shade you saw in the mirror earlier.

“That’s just great!” You throw your hands up dramatically. “Now I look like you!”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself—”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!”

“You know, it really doesn’t look that bad. Maybe you’re starting to have better taste.”

Despite knowing full well that that was Malfoy speak for a compliment, you’re in no mood for it. “Oh, well I’m so glad that the Slytherin prince thinks me, a lowly commoner, 'doesn’t look that bad’ just fu—”

“No! No! No! Y/N! I didn’t mean—”

“—ck off! Because on top of looking like the most insufferable git in the entire school what I really wanted was to receive a backhanded compliment—” And just then, you spot the familiar redhead with bad influences for older brothers from across the hall who you’re even more pissed off at than Malfoy.

“I don’t have time for this,” is all you say as you bolt down the hall towards Ron, screaming, “YOU’RE DEAD, WEASLEY!”

IV. Held Hostage

Hermione’s screams are enough to make you feel like you’re being gutted, and when Bellatrix takes her knife to your arm, you’re absolutely terrified. At least this means your best friend has a break from her torture. In the meantime, you nearly bite through your cheek to hold in your own screams whilst the saddistic woman spells out the hateful term that’s been thrown at you your whole life, carving it into your flesh.

After what feels like hours, the death eater sits back up, admiring the her work with a sickening grin on her face, and you want nothing more than to smack it off. Or at least you would if you didn’t feel like you’ve been drained. What you do feel is defiled; like your own skin is no longer yours, and the blood that runs through your veins doesn’t belong to you.

And Draco Malfoy has been standing on the other end of the room this whole time whilst his barbaric aunt tries to get information out of you.

The rest of what happens is experienced through the blur of hopeless tears your eyes are clouded with, until Harry picks you up off the floor after Bellatrix had pushed you and Hermione to save herself from the falling chandelier. A certain fire surges through you as you regain full consciousness.

You see Harry and Draco fight over his wand, and instinct kicks in as you lunge forward, efficiently tackling the latter to the ground. Snatching the wand out of his hand, you throw it to Harry. The blonde boy’s struggles are weak under your weight, almost half-assed as you feel the tension start to leave his muscles.

“Why?!” you shout in his face, grabbing him by the collar to keep him down. Tears well your eyes, but your gaze pierces through him nonetheless. The feelings of helplessness and emptiness are long gone as angry tracks burn down your cheeks. “Why—”

“Y/N!” Harry scoops you off him in one swift motion, pulling you to where your allies have regrouped. “This isn’t the time- w-we have to get out of here!”

You don’t say another word, and your infuriated eyes target the conflict and fear that resides in Draco’s. He’s left with the image of your anguish and fury engrained in his mind long after you disapparate.

V. Crossing Over

The Dark Lord himself beckoned him, and for a second you thought he might resist, but then his mother called him, extending her hand for him to come to her, and you saw him break.

“No!” You cry out as he starts to take hesitant steps towards the death eaters. “Draco, don’t do this!” His already shaky demeanor falters for a moment at the sound of his first name falling from your lips. “You have a choice.”

Steeling his nerves, he doesn’t allow himself to look back, because he would surely crumble under the weight of your gaze and the pain etched into your features. He continues forward, into the arms of a proud tyrant, and you swear your heart drops out of your chest.

Then, the whole scene with Neville’s heroic spirit ensues and you feel the fire within you flare up again when Harry tumbles out of Hagrid’s arms. Death Eaters that have been backing Voldemort start to disappear, leaving an unevenly distributed cloud of darkness.

Everyone else starts to retreat to the castle to regroup and fight as one, but you chase after the fleeing Malfoy family. It’s as though you have no control as your legs move under you on autopilot and as fast as they can go.

You’ve almost caught up to the trio on the bridge and can no longer help yourself.

“Coward!” You yell, trying your best not to let your voice crack, with no avail. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from spilling freely. Draco meets your eyes with his own that portray a boy who is terrified out of his mind, but you’re relentless. The truth isn’t always easy. “You’re a bloody coward, Malfoy!”

Avoiding your fiery gaze, he turns into his mother’s comfort. Not once do his eyes meet yours again before he disappears in a whisp of black smoke.

What you feel is rage, but with that rage comes with an added indescribable pain and disappointment.

+ Midsummer Night’s Dream

The next time you see the infamous Draco Malfoy is just over a year since he disapparated in a whisp of black smoke. Little do you know, immediately after apparating, the boy fell to his knees in the arms of his mother. He broke that day, and hasn’t been able to put himself back together since, contrary to the proud Malfoy mask he wears out in public. He hides behind crisp suits and perfectly-coiffed platinum locks. It’s enough to have anyone who reads the Daily Prophet fooled about how the heir carries onto a successful path despite everything that has happened.

But not you. He never could fool you of anything, really. So when you and your friends spot him taking a seat alone at the Three Broomsticks you know something’s up, because a refined Malfoy doesn’t just hang out amongst mere commoners like that.

“What is he doing here?” Ron spits out, red fury already starting at the tips of his ears and seething from his narrowed eyes.

As if on cue, Draco’s eyes lift from his glass to meet yours.

Hermione sends you a sympathetic smile before mumbling calming words to her boyfriend. The Malfoys and Weasleys always did get each other riled up.

Harry, who sits beside you, gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder to get your attention and you can immediately read his expression. He can read yours just as easily and can see that you’re starting to get anxious. “Y/N…”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you simper, standing slowly from your seat. “I’ve got this.”

He casts a glance towards the blond across the room before his eyes come back meet yours, sending you a look as though to ask if you’re sure. You give him a nod and he sends you off with a comforting squeeze of your hand.

As you make your way to the table for one, you’re so focused on slowing your heart rate that you’ve arrived at your destination before you know it, seeing the shiny black dress shoes in contrast to the uneven wood panels of the pub’s floor. When you lift your gaze, it’s then that you realize he’s been staring at you the whole time.

“Malfoy.”

“Y/N.”

The sound of your first name rolling off his tongue lights something inside you— and it’s not pretty.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice is steady, but with a strong undertone of something darker. Like the calm before a storm.

“Can’t a man enjoy a butterbeer on his own?” Despite him being absolutely terrified of you, he somehow manages to exude a certain lightness. You look at his untouched pint and raise an eyebrow and he knows you aren’t in the mood for small talk.

“Cut the shit, Malfoy.”

Recognizing the beginnings of anger in your tone, he stands as smoothly as he can manage and gestures towards the door. The last thing he wants is for you to snap because he knows very well what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your fury.

He follows closely behind as you lead him out into the dim lighting of Hogsmead. The summer air doesn’t feel as heavy as it has for the last week, and the sky proudly shows off the twinkling stars. It would be a perfect night if not for your circumstances.

You stop in your tracks and spin to face him so briskly, your forehead almost hits his chin. “You have one minute to talk before I hex you where you stand.”

“You always did excel in hexes and jinxes—”

“Fifty-five seconds, Malfoy.”

“Uh- erm- o-okay—”

You have about zero patience left. The anger thats been quietly bubbling for the last year has been on the brim of overflowing the second he walked in tonight, but so has all the pain and sadness you’ve kept locked up all this time. “You’re wasting my time.” You prepare to stalk off, but a firm hand pulls you back by your elbow, and for the the first time since the war, your face with Draco Malfoy. It’s the first time tonight that you can really see him. He looks worse than ever.

The silver pools that once resided in his irises look like shells of what they once were. And he sure felt that way, until he saw you. That’s when he realizes how empty he always is until he’s around you. My, how he took that for granted all these years.

Trying your very best, you fight against the urge to give into the part of you who still cares for him and wants to know the last time he had a good night’s sleep. You also try to fight against the water accumulation behind your eyelids, but it only makes it worse.

“What?! What do you want, Draco?!”

The use of his first name is the only sign he needs to be brave for once. Without further hesitation, he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. Once over the initial shock, you give in for only a half second before you come to your senses and push him back, both hands planted firmly on his chest.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?!”

“I-I- Y/N, I-I’m so—” Right then, is one of the few times you see what he’s really feeling on the inside be expressed on the outside. “I-I just-I thought—”

“You- you thought what?! We’d ride off into the sunset on the back of a unicorn and live happily ever after?!” You don’t care how frantic you look right now. You don’t care that the midsummer night wind is whipping your hair into complete and utter chaos. And you definitely don’t give a single fuck about how the drunk people stumbling by you giggle uncontrollably. You pause for a moment as you wait for them to be out of earshot, and once they are, you let out a frustrated breath and resume. “Did you honestly believe that you could kiss me, and then everything— all of the absolute shite of a mess would just go away?!”

His gaze drops to the ground that his shiny dress shoes stand on, with a few platinum strands that fall from their place. Those are the only visible signs of something amiss with the well-dressed man. But you see something else cloud his features: shame. The last time you saw that, which was also the last time you saw him, he left. He always left you while you were angry, enraged, and never stuck around to face the truth.

Draco Malfoy decides that this time is going to be different.

He has felt as empty as his eyes appeared for months, but when his gaze rolls back up to meet yours, you see the grey storms you saw when you first met him. Sure, they were masked by an outer shell that was brimming with entitlement, but they have now what they had then. Purpose.

“Y/N,” His hands twitch as he fights the urge to reach out for yours, deciding against it in favour of using two words you’ve been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry.” You soften, releasing the tension you didn’t realize you carried in your shoulders. The angry tears that stung the backs of your eyes melt to something peaceful as they escape their ducts. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I know I don’t deserve another chance, or any of the chances you’ve given me, but if you’ll give me one more I promise I’ll be better. Everything you’ve ever said about me is true; I am a coward, but I’m not leaving this time.”

“And what if I want you to leave?” You ask, testing the waters, more than anything else.

“If you tell me to leave— if that is what you truly want, then I will. Tell me to leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Okay, then leave.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Y-Yes—” You stammer out a complete lie. Every cell on your body knows it’s a lie, and apparently so does he.

“I don’t believe you.”

More than anything, you want to fling yourself into his arms but you feel like your feet have been colashoo-ed to the ground. A corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft lopsided smile as his hands raise to thread fingers through the top of your hairline, smoothing wild strands away from your face. His touch is so careful and delicate than you could have ever imagined. He leans down slowly and stops just as his lips have brushed over yours, asking for permission, “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Syllables get caught in your throat, and channel themselves through you body as you move to slate your mouth over his. The sensation is so delicately mind-blowing, and it leaves you absolutely breathless when you pull away to lean your forehead against his.

All you can manage to breathe out is, “stay”.

The way your breath fans over his lips is intoxicating, and he’s certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful, no work of art finer, than the way you’re looking at him.

“I’m not leaving this time. Never again.”

His grasp tightens as he pulls you back to his lips and your fingers curl around the light fabric of his shirt. Every emotion and feeling accumulated over lost time is poured into this kiss.

This time, what you feel for him is something stronger and far different than anger.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #5 times fic #hp #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp fic #hp fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #potatowrites

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yorozuya-aki-chan · 7 years ago

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Gintama Seiyuu Radio Translation: How to Become an M like Sacchan? (Guest: Kobayashi Yuu)

Behold the glorious sadist, Sugita-san! (lol) As always, enjoy~

Radio Hosts: Sugita Tomokazu (Sugi; Gintoki's VA) and Sakaguchi Daisuke (Saka; Shinpachi's VA)

Guest: Kobayashi Yuu (Koba; Sacchan's VA)

Sugita and Kobayashi shares their opinion on how to become an M. Ft. Sugita's saddistic voice ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

youtube

Video by 文字起こしにゃん

0:00

Saka: From Osaka prefecture

Sugi: You can't do it without spanking.

Saka: Radio name!!!

Koba: Just now, right...

Saka: Fuji Mineko-san.

Sugi: Yes yes

Koba: Oh~~?

Saka: It's not really anything that interesting ww Eh-

Sugi: Mineko is my mother's name.

Koba: Sugita-sama's!!! We might be hearing from Sugita-san's mother.

Saka: No no no she's from the Osaka prefecture [1]. Ehh let's move on to the consultation~

"I think I am an M, but when I look at the people around me it seems I'm more of an S. How do I become an M like Sacchan? I want to become an amazing M."

Sugi: Well that's simple. Find someone who's more S then you.

Saka: Oh~

Sugi: That's it. Since this is somewhat like a food chain.

Koba: Ah, I see~

Sugi: Even for Sakaguchi-san. For example, you express yourself more strongly to your junior from the same company Unsho-san.

Saka: Ah Unsho-chan. Yes yes, I do. Because he’s my junior. He hasn’t even been in Aoni for 2 years. Totally totally.

Sugi: But you get fist-bumped on the shoulder by your other junior Madono-san.

Saka: Fist-bumped on the shoulder w He says “Treat me well, senpai,” and punches me on the shoulder ww yes yes

Sugi: It becomes a sort of chain, doesn’t it.

Saka: But I don’t want to become an M. I don’t wanna be an M, it’s tiring~

Sugi: I said it before right, you don’t need to be a Tsundere [2]. If someone gets stood off, they’ll cry.

Saka: They will cry.

Koba: Come enter this world~

Saka: Eh? Of that person?

Koba: Shinpacchan~

Saka: Who??

Koba: I am a resident of the M world~ Of course that would be Sacchan, right? Gin-san?

Sugi: Everything becomes an M.

Saka: Oh-. Not ‘Oh-’, what is with this space??

Koba: Kind of like that wonderful… right?

1:30

Saka: Yuu-chan don’t you have anything to add? How to become an M like Sacchan?

Koba: Train with me~

Saka: Train!?

Koba: Let’s train~

Saka: What kind?

Koba: Indeed, what should we do? Of course at this point, could we have our lovely person step in?

Saka: Wouldn’t this be completely getting a cold shoulder?

Koba: Hey~ Sugita-san, can you step in?

Sugi: Sugita’s S stands for the S in sadistic.

Saka: Yayy~

Koba: Amazing! DoS! [3]

Sugi: I will reply as a sadist. Not answering this question would be an S. You can just stay there and worry over this forever! Hehehehehe!

Koba: As expected of Gin-san!!

Sugi: Shut up you stupid fool!!!

Koba: Kya~~! ***

Koba: Something like this. Find a partner who’s like this.

Saka: So with this it’s settled?

Sugi: This is the solution.

Koba: Yes, it’s like this.

Saka: I understand. Thank you.

Koba: Please find someone like that.

Sugi: I’m kind of scorned by the people in Aoni production with really nice voices. When I’m told “Sugita-kun you’re really gross,” I get really happy.

Saka: Aren’t you an M then??

Sugi: I get really happy.

Saka: Aren’t you a masochist then? What’s with that!

---

T/N

[1] Sugita's family lives in Saitama, so it's not his mother

[2] Tsundere: Tough/ likes to make jabs on the outside, but soft on the inside (aka Hijikata)

[3] DoS: Another way to say sadistic

#gintama #sakata gintoki #shimura shinpachi #sarutobi ayame #sacchan #ginsacchan #sugita tomokazu #sakaguchi daisuke #kobayashi yuu #radio #radio subs

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hereticcryptid · 4 years ago

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Yes, honey, there are. There is a entire corner of fandoom for us.

Read the whole thing

No, Mulciber did not use an unforgivable. It was dark magic, besides, dark magic is not always harmful.

"Several dark spells" Just sectumsempra, actually. I would carry around a knife around if someone had attemped to kill me, but that's just me.

He was hopeless, helpless, had no one to turn to. Light side made his life living. I wouldn't join the side that had the people who attemped to kill me, who sexually assaulted me, who bullied me mercilessly and who turned a blind eye on it. But again, that's just me not taking shit from anyone :p

Man's a death eater, what you wanted him to do? Hide the prophecy from a mind reading saddistic madman? Who happened to be his master?

Why all this if's, it didn't happen, it doesn't matter. I could write an entire essay on how Sev would turn diferent IF the marauders weren't the dicks they were.

Snape was not obsessed with Lily, although I could explain this, I am not in the mood, so just have the patronus. Patronuses only change out of true, pure love. It doesn't happen out of obsession.

For Merlin's sake! Being in the right side doesn't makes you a good person! Dumbledore's a manipulative bitch even tho being the leader of the light.

If I remember right, James just threw his wand in the sofa? And you thinking he could've defeated Voldy *laugh* how pathetic...

He would feel sorry for Lily. Maybe not Harry, but Lily, he would. He already had clear signs of self-loathing. Dead Lily? Made him (further) depressed and suicidal. Alive Lily but dead family due to him? He can't handle it. It would've been way worst. Lily would try to kill him and he wouldn't care at all. How would you feel if you had gotten the woman you love's family killed? I can't say, I never fell that deep in love, but I would fucking kill myself if I got the family of one of my dearest friends killed. But again, why so many if's?

James was not just rude, he was fucking saddistic. Understood? It's clear that he had pleasure in seing Severus suffer.

There is no canon evidence that he grew out of it, none. It's canon that he still hexed Sev when Lily wasn't looking, tho. Sirius himself said it. Doing the bare minimum IS NOT character development.

Abuse? Lmao, he was the only teacher that never endangered a student's life or never killed anything.

Neville's boggart? Irrelevant. If it was Bellatrix who had just been in the room, his boggart would turn into her. There is psycological proof that you can have many diferent fears.

He told Harry awful stuff about James? As he should. I wouldn't have one of my students worshipping their dead parents if the said dead parents had made my life living hell. But again, as I already said, just me not taking shit from anyone.

Was awful to Hermione and insulted her many times. Well, two times actually. And the second one is debatable. Called her an insuferrable know-it-all? He did. And he was right, even tho he shouldn't had said it on her face. Mocked her teeth? Maybe he did, that's up for intrepertation, but he could be saying that he saw no diference bettween Hermione's and Crabble's (was it Goyle?) state.

No, it doesn't excuse his actions. But it makes us understand the reason he did it.

Are you fucking trying to compare trauma? I tell you the diference, then. All the people that you listed here had a support sistem. They had friends.

Yes, Sirius had a horrible family. But you know what he also had? Half the school worshipping him.

Yes, Harry was abused for years. But when he went to Hogwarts he reliesed that he was rich. And famous. And nearly everyone loved him. And cared for him. He had real friends.

Nev was abused by Augusta. Well, I am not sure, also up for debate, but she did shatter Nev's self esteem. But again, Nev had friends. He had support, something that Sev never had.

Yes, Luna did watch her mom die, and that must had been really traumatising. But she not just had friends, as she had a loving father. As for the bullying, I might be wrong, but I don't think she gave a single fuck.

Where am I going? Exatly, nowhere, because you can't compare trauma nor you can expect that everyone reacts the same way. Periodt. Understood?

Now, unless you want more angry snovers ridiculing you, get this of our tags.

wait, there are people out there who like snape better than james??????

remember the time snape's classmates used an unforgivable curse on mary macdonald and when lily confronted snape about it he said it was funny and compared it to marauders' pranks? let's also not forget that he made several dark spells during his time at hogwarts. and he joined voldemort because he wanted to. no one forced him to become a death eater, he did it himself. lily was a muggle born and death eaters wanted to kill her and other muggle borns, but snape was fine with that? he knew what voldemort was doing and what he was capable of but he still joined him. he told voldemort about the prophecy and if voldemort wanted to kill neville snape would be fine with that. if voldemort killed just harry snape would be fine with that. but oh voldemort killed lily, the woman snape was obsessing over and suddenly all is forgotten? and that whole time james potter, a wealthy pureblood, was a part of the order of the phoenix and he actively fought voldemort. remember how voldemort killed james when james didn't have his wand? so james was killed, not defeated. and he died not knowing if his wife or his son are alive and well. he sacrificed himself. and again, if james had died and lily had lived do you think snape would even feel a little tiny bit sorry for lily and her son? no. he would be proud.

and don't use that "james was a bully" line to argue this right now. james maybe was rude toward snape during his time at hogwarts, and yes that was not okay. after hogwarts, james grew out of his bully phase, but snape grew into his. he used his position as a teacher to abuse his students to the point where neville's worst fear wasn't the person who tortured his parents, but snape, his professor. he was rude to harry, told him awful stuff about his father who harry had never met. snape was awful to hermione and insulted her many times. and many many other students were abused by him.

the fact that he had a bad childhood doesn't excuse his actions. sirius had a horrible family and was disowned, harry was abused for years, neville was abused by his grandma and his parents were in a mental hospital, luna watched her mother die, many people had bad childhoods but grew up to be good people.

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scarlett-might-blog · 6 years ago

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THE WOMAN “TODAY”

BY "THE WOMAN TODAY" YOU GO BY "STANDART" OF MY "DEAR" "GRANDMA" - "VICTORIA" - "THE HOUSEWIFE" OF "THE HOUSEKEEPER" OR MY MOTHER'S - "THE WOMAN OF THE "LOVE-LETTER" OR "INLOVED-BELOVED"-"FOREVER". "NOW" - "THIS IS "DIFFERENT" - "I'M NOT LIKE "THAT"... - "DID "YOU" LEARN YOUR "NEW" "MOTTO" - ("MINEIS MINE - YOUR IS "YOURS" "), WHICH MEANS "EXACTLY" WHAT IS "MEANS". I DO "NOT" "CO-OPERATE", "SELL" OR "DISCUSS" MY "BUSINESS". THIS IS "WHAT I'M "GIVING "YOU" - A "SIMPLE RULE" OF "THE QUALITY" - JUST FORGET "KRASAVICATA I DZVERO" - ("NOT MINE")... FORGET "LOVED-BELOVED" AND "DEAR-MINE" - NOT "MINE" - "I HAVE "MY OWN" " - I'M TEACHING MY "PEOPLE" - "SOMETHING "NEW" ", REALLY "NEW" - WHAT WAS NOT "KNOWN" BY THE "DEFINITION" - IT'S "THERE" - IT'S "THERE" - "NOW" - "WAS IT "THERE" BEFORE?" - I'M "SETTING "STANDARTS", BITCH - DO "NOT" "BITCH AT ME" EVEN IF "CAN" - I "KNOW" YOU "CAN" - "THAT'S "EASY" " - TRUST "ME".

HERE I WAS "TRYING" TO SAY A "DIFFERENT" THING , WHICH "MOST" IF "NOT" - "ALL OF "YOU" SHOULD BE "PROUD "ABOUT"! - YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW "HISTORY" - YOU "KNOW" ONLY - "WHO "THIS OR THAT "ONE'S" "NAME" WAS AND "WTF" ("MINE - DON'T TOUCH!") - EVERY "GENERATION" HAS TO "HAVE" A "STANDART" ("WHATEVER YOU TAKE, THERE") SO YOU WILL BE "RECOGNISED" AS "NOT" WHO "YOU SUPPORT", BUT "WHO YOU "ARE". "THAT'S WHAT "MANY" "PEOPLE" DON'T "KNOW" AND "ARE JUST", "NOT, NOT, NOT" - "CONFUSED" - "STUPID" . I DO "NOT" TALK IN "GENERAL" , "KNOWLEDGE - "ABOUT"... YEAH - "YOU GET THE "POINT" - I AM "NOT" "NEW", "TALKING ABOUT MYSELF, "GENERALLY" - "I'M JUST "NOW" - AND YOU HAVE TO BE "RECOGNISED" AS IN MY "TERM" - "STAND OUT, THAN "THEM" - IN "GRANDMA'S "TERM" - YOUR "POKOLENIA" OF "GENERETIA", - "GENERALLY NOT" IS ANOTHER'S "TERM" ... FOR FUCK'S SAKE... YOU SPEAK "DIFFERENT ON "YOUR "OWN" " - THANKS TO "ME" - A YEAH... "THANKS" TO "ME"... - DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT "TALKING TO ME - "WHEN YOU "SEE" - "ME" - YOU CAN "SEE" "ME" ANYWHERE - "THIS MY COUNTRY!", "THIS IS MY NEIGHBOURHOOD", THIS IS "MY STREET" - I "WALK ON IT" - DO NOT "COME OUT "STUPID" IN "MY FACE" BY "EXCUSE ME, DEAR..." - "NO, NO - IT'S "NOT" "GONNA HAPPEN" - "WALK "AWAY" - DO NOT "DARE" TO "LOOK AT "ME" " OR "TALK TO "ME" LIKE I'M "YOUR" "FRIEND" OF "KNOWN" - "EVEN IF "I'M THE NEIGHBOUR" - "PASS AWAY AND "MOVE ON" " - I LIVE IN THREE PLACES "SEPARATELY - "I "CAN" "AFFORD IT" - I DON'T HAVE AN "IDEA" ABOUT "YOU" - "IT'S MY "OWN" BUDGET" - SO "BOUNCE, MA!" - "MY TERM!"...

"ENJOY!"

PS. JUST BECAUSE I'M "YOUR" QUEEN , THAT DOESN'T "MEAN" THAT MY "PARENTS ARE "NOT" REMEMBERED - "REAL "ROYALTIES" - AS A MATTER OF "UN-FORGOTTEN" FOR SOME OR FOR "MOST" OF YOU "NOT" "KNOWN" OR "UNREMEMBERED "HISTORY" - "REMARKABLE" - ("MINE") , AND REMEMBER "LITTLE" - I'M "STAYING HERE", I WAS BORN NOT IN THE "STREET OF "LONDON" BUT IN MY OWN "HOME" - WHICH YOU CALL "THE "UNITED KINGDOM" OF "ENGLAND" ON "ABBEY ROAD" - "SIXTY-FIVE - "NOT" , "NOT" AN "ELM-STREET" "CHARACTER" - A YEAH - YOUR "QUEEN" - HAVE SOME "RESPECT" OR AT "LEAST" GOOGLE "IT" ("MINE" - "TYPED AS: ELIZABETH'S "FUNERAL", "COMMON-WEALTH", "SADDISTIC-DEATH" AND "SO..." - "ENGLISH TRADITION", "OK?" ("PHILIP TOO - EVEN "WORSE" - "UNCLE, NO" - "REMEBERED?" - "NO") - "DO NOT DARE "OOPOSE A "FUCKING "MURDER LIKE ME" - SCARLETT MIGHT.

#SCRALETT #SCARLETT MIGHT #CLASSY #FEMALE #STANDART #DEFINITION #QUEEN #QUEEN SCARLETT #BLOG #BLOGGER #BLOG-POST

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myvoicenottheoneyougiveme · 5 years ago

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Number one, I don't care what you're trying to prove to yourself. Number two, these foster dogs can very likely sense your hostility toward me--the tension--on top of being skittish to begin with.

NUMBER THREE... re: "testing is slow"

It's been...

FUCKING

YEARS

...of "testing".

"This" isn't science, and it's never been interested in objective truth... as much as it's been interested in self-delusion and denial of reality by any means necessary. Any means, just as long as you remain in control of everything, wielding power over everyone, especially me. Any means, as long as you remain unthreatened by your reflection in the mirror.

Well, how about this one?

Does anyone remember GLaDOS, the pathological ________ AI from Portal? The one who "tested" her subjects to death? The one that lived to put the protagonist through whatever hell (or obstacle course) she could conjure? The one who, despite the banter being comic relief from the outside looking in, was consistently saddistic in her ever-evolving creative ways of stabbing and cutting and twisting with the knife of her words into the protagonist? This was expounded upon in the sequel. The whole game took on the "daughters of narcissistic mothers" angle to spectacular effect.

The environments were also oppressive and grave, which made the contrast with its sense of humor all the more stark. Thematically, the entire focus is on escape. It's a hell. It's a descending crash into hell and a climb back out. The ambiance, the setting, everything in this masterfully crafted game/story evokes one thing.

"Okay. Look. We both said a lot of things that you're going to regret. But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. You monster."

There's something about the way she says so many of these lines. As an AI, a machine, devoid (mostly) of overt emotion, it's all underground; it's all from angles you don't expect. This line right here, on first hearing, is like many lines you don't see coming. "[...] that you're going to regret." There's something especially... weighty and toxic, about the flat affect in which it's all delivered. As though the lack speaks greater volumes than abundance ever could. This is something seen in other places and other expressions of very heavy subject matter. It's the negative, the negative value of something somehow more telling, somehow louder. Deafening silence as opposed to a deafening cacophony of sound. And besides that, it comes in from angles and places you don't expect. The affect of the speaker belies what's being spoken. In every way it's designed to subvert and bypass every mental check and block.

What is out in the open, what is plain, can be guarded against, physically, mentally, emotionally. It can be dealt with, confronted. But what is underground and subversive bypasses every normal barrier a person has. And worse, when they can't even be sure they've been assaulted, when they can't even be sure what hit them, when their very reality is denied, how can they defend themselves? How can they protect themselves from the intangible?

The "game" aspects then manifest in a very simplistic form the effort to "perform", to defend oneself, to solve the riddle of what is beset against you at this time, to overcome the present assault. ...But there's always another test. There's always another more novel hurdle to cross. There's always another room like the last even with the pieces rearranged. You always end up back where you started. The victory at each interval extinguished, not to mention the dialogue meant to break you down despite proving yourself once again.

“This” has been my life for 11 years. But when you don’t like the results you get time and time again or the truth of the matter never mattered to you in the first place or when your motivations have never been for any of the myriad reasons you pull out of your ass on any given day, it is but for your own sick self-soothing as you siphon from me and my life what you need to feel powerful and in control, to feel validated even without me giving it to you anymore. You will take from me by way of everyone you twist around your fingers, what you can’t get from me anymore. It’s all a parasitic draw on me, filling you up, satisfying your ego at my expense. What you can’t get from me anymore, what you can’t extort, you will take from everyone else at my expense.

All you need is a crisis you can manufacture, so you can sell yourself back to the lot of us as the solution to that problem. Short of saving the whole world, or me from myself and playing the sole lifeline, you’re saving yourself from “the monster”, you the poor innocent victim who has never been the one in control and never been the one holding all the keys. You have nested, nestling yourself between me and everything and everyone like a parasite feeding on all that passes between. And you stir up whatever you can whenever you can in order to pull the extra blood then drawn back toward yourself.

“This” has always been your game. What goes wrong here, what happens to me, or to anyone else, time and time again it’s just you creating drama where none previously existed. There is no one you will not trample if it means drawing more blood to engorge yourself with. I am but a vehicle to your acquisition of “supply”. No grandstanding morality, no truth-seeking, not one of excuse after excuse.

“This” serves no one but yourself.

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legit9ja · 8 years ago

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Episode 23: The Diary Of Nymphomaniac

CLICK TO READ EPISODE 22 I was admitted into the Federal University at Awka and I was so good to go. “Hello babe” I said, when I picked up my phone that was ringing. “How are you” Nikky asked me “I am fine dear… What did you score in your exam”? I asked her “160” She said with an angry tone “What about you”? She asked me “165” I replied with an angry tone too. She showed empathy and consoled me “So will you still attend the lesson again” She asked me “Yes” I replied… Let me call you back” I said to her. I quickly terminated the call and blocked her number from my phone. I was making preparations and having dreams about what the university life would be all about. Then one evening, there was a knock on the door… “Pastor Peter” My father yelled. Immediately I heard his name, I knew I was in deep poo.He always saw funny visions about me, and I wondered what he has seen again this time around. After the exchange of pleasantries, “Is your boy around? Please call him” He said to my father. I didn’t wait to be called, and I entered the parlor already. “I saw something about you, and it is not so good” He said “You have done a lot of bad things since this year and something bad is about to happen” He continued. My dad was already staring at me like someone that stole his money. I knew what those eyes meant and I realized I was in for something serious. “I don’t want you to touch him sir” Pastor Peter said and I immediately breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “But the lord wants something to be done to avert all these” He continued “Anything, I will do it” My father said with enthusiasm… He opened his mouth and started prophesying “WHAT”?? I shouted during the middle of the prophesy. Few months later I was packing my bag to resume at one of the best private universities in the southern part of Nigeria. I was thinking of how my journey was going to be, and also my stay in the school. Pastor Peter had warned my dad about me not going to a federal university because he foresaw that I would join bad gangs and will be killed in the end. I was just like a sheep going to the slaughter house while I was being escorted to the school compound. When we got to the gate, it was like a prison filled with inmates. We did a security check at the first gate before we proceeded to the second gate and then to the main compound of the “School”. They checked my luggage and there was a big shout of “No camera phone ooo…” all the time. Well, I never bothered because they already bought me a big torch light Nokia phone that would end up being my best friend in school. We headed straight for the bank, and the procedure just got me tired. Everything was mechanical with little or no room for modern technology. We waited in turns to pay our fees and the line was just like a voting queue; with the help of dad, they gave us special permission and we paid. We now took a tour round the main school compound where we visited various personnel in other to get my registration number. All I saw were boys and girls strolling round the school compound aimlessly and walking in pairs. I was so shocked and felt like crying already. “Why did you do this to me” I asked Dad with a very sad face that was almost filled with tears. “This place will make you become a better person academically and morally” He replied with a smile. I was just too weak to talk and I was already running temperature already with enough headache. We finally met with the registrar and I was given a registration number and filled up other forms, and I was good to go. We hurried back to the gate… “Alright, any other thing”? Daddy asked as he was about leaving “I don’t like here… daddy please” I begged “I have already paid above 400 thousand” Just be a good boy and don’t break any rules “Wait, speak to your mummy” Daddy added “Mummy, please I don’t like here” I was crying slowly and saying it “Daddy said it is a nice school” Mummy added “No mummy, it is not. It is just like a prison yard” I said with tears “Baby… just manage. You will soon be out” She said as she consoled me on phone. I was thinking of how soon I will be out. I am was about to study an Engineering course that would last for five years, and mummy was saying I will be out soon. “How soon is five years” I asked myself. “Alright, good-bye” Daddy added as he was leaving the school gate. I kept staring at him till he moved away from my sight. “Oga pack this your load and vanish from here” One of the security guys yelled at me and brought me back to reality. I felt like giving him a heavy slap… “You feel like slapping him shebi” One guy said by myside… “Not really: I said while laughing “I am martin” He responded as he brought out his hand for a handshake. I shook him firmly and exchanged some pleasantries “I saw you crying to your father, guess you don’t wana come here” Martin asked me “You are correct bro, I feel so sad and dejected… I don’t like it here” I said to him “Don’t worry, you will soon adapt fast. It is actually fun here” He said “I am a school rep, so I will help you the way I can” He concluded. He asked the security man to help me pack my luggage inside the waiting bus to be transported to the hostel. “Ask for hall Rep Martin, room X” He mentioned the name of the hostel before I left. I was transported to the boy’s hostel and believe me, immediately I reached, it was like another state in a state. I saw boys cooking outside, some were playing basket, some were playing football in the hostel field while some were carrying some little weight located in the open field. It was a rowdy environment filled with noise and I was just so lost. They offloaded my luggage just outside the hostel and I sat down looking like someone who just traveled abroad for the first time. “Please, do you know hall Rep Martin’s room” I asked one of the guys that came around my side. He directed me and I followed his direction. While I was going, I remembered I forgot my luggage outside and with a speed of light, I dashed off to where it was located. “You came to protect your bag”? One guy who saw me asked “Yes ooo… before they steal it” I said with a seriousness. They gave me a very wicked laugh and I almost felt embarrassed. “Na new comer sha” One of the guys said to his friend “Even if you leave your luggage here till tomorrow, nobody will touch it” One of the guys said to me. It was sounding too good to be true and I thought they wanted to play on my intelligence and steal from me. I only thanked them for their advice and sat tight with my only inheritance in the school. I stayed there till hall rep Martin came around and asked me to follow him to his room, so that he can allocate a room to me. “What about my luggage” I asked while chasing after him “Just leave it there and follow me” It was sounding like a Japanese language “That I should leave my bag, not possible” I said to myself. I managed to grab hold of the bag that harbored my provision and cloth while I chased after him. “They won’t steal it even if you leave it outside” Hall rep martin said while I was in his room “I will give you room XY for now till they allocate a room officially to you guys” He concluded. I quickly moved my bags to the allocated room and it was like a room in one of these American movies where they harbor criminals but the difference is that this room was filled with Christian Elders. I greeted everyone in the room and packed in like someone they chased away from home. I was given a warm reception, a brief introduction and induction as soon I had settled down. That night was one of the worsts; I just slept like a log of wood and woke up very tired without knowing what else to do. “You have to go finish your registration and start attending lectures” One of the older students name Femi told me. He was a medicine student of 400 level and looking at him, you would know that truly he is a medicine student. I quickly rushed to a crowded bathroom while I waited for my turn to bath. It was a horrible sight looking at some guys Unclad and jumping up and down the bathroom corridor and making a whole lot of noise. I succeeded in bathing while I dashed off into the school compound to do the needful. “Seems you are also new” I asked her “Yes, how did you know” She asked. “I saw the way you were staring around like you lost your money, and then I knew you were also lost like me” I replied with a cool smile. We both laughed over it and exchanged pleasantries. “Lets strike a deal” I said to her with a wink “what deal, hope it will favor me too” She asked. hope it will favor me too” She asked with a smile. She had a very cute smile that could melt even the heart of a saddist. “You will help me with my registration, while I help you with yours” I said to her with a smile. “Wow, sounds nice, but change you change the first person to get help to me”? She asked with a mean face “No, I brought up the idea, so I will go first” I said with a mean face too. After much debate and logic, I gave into her argument. “I am Queen” She said “I am King” I replied. We both laughed again and headed straight for business. After making much progress with her registration, we decided to go take lunch. We ordered for various delicacies and I was about making payment before I heard “I hate being paid for; as long as we are together, the bills will be on me” She said with a smile. I was doubting the source where such words was coming from as I kept looking around to her amusement. “Anything wrong”? She asked “Yea, someone was saying something about paying for me, so I was looking for where the voice was coming from” I replied with a sarcastic face “Don’t be silly joor… I said it” She said with a loud laugh that drew attention. I kept on staring at her while I quietly brought out my wallet and made payments. “You paid? Why?” She queried “I pay for Angels alone, and you look like one I always see in my dreams” I said with a mean face. Questions upon questions, jokes upon jokes, laughter upon laughter, and the chemistry between both of us were developing. I was so tempted to touch her, and she knew what I was thinking of doing. “It is not allowed here” She said and immediately, my dicck shrunk like a snail that was touched “I wasn’t thinking of anything” I said with a disappointed face. She laughed hard and we decided to leave the cafeteria. We went to the auditorium where 100 level students always took lectures and we found a seat right at the back of the hall. I got to know that her father was a politician in one of the states of Nigeria. “What does your father do” She asked me “He is a friend to a politician” I said with much laughter. She laughed so hard that she almost fell from her seat. On a lighter note again, she asked again and I told her the truth. “You shouldn’t spend for me again. I already like you, so don’t bother to impress me” She said with a smile. I felt happy and embarrassed at the same time. “But I have money na” I said jokingly “Do you have up to 200,000 naira in your account” She asked me with a smile “Yes, but I have used it for school fees” I said while laughing. “I have more than enough to spend, and I want you to be part of it” She said while squeezing my hand tightly. I came closer for a kiss but I was reminded once again of the rules of the school. “I am gonna be a virgin for the next 3 months” I said jokingly “I am still a virgin, so no big deal about being one” She said with a tongue out face. I didn’t know whether to be happy or happy, so I remained happy. We were seen together almost every time of the day and also of the week. We did virtually everything in common except sleeping together and bathing. She kept on buying and spending till I was becoming ashamed of collecting. “Baby please, stop spending for me” I pleaded with a low tone as after some series of lectures we had. “I love you and I am happy doing it” She said while holding my hands “But people will soon notice and start abusing me” I asked her “Alright, I will be giving you the money, and you will be the one paying” She said. The first time I was giving the sum of 5000 naira to pay for our meals for the day, I became confused as to what to do with it. “Let’s use this money and buy foodstuffs, so that you can cook and maybe give me from there” I suggested “I hate cooking” She replied boldly “Wow… that’s nice, me too” I replied back “I have money that can last me for 6 months, so don’t be scared” She reminded me. The eating and the fun and the enjoyment can’t be explained in this diary. At a point in time, I even knew her ATM pin and even withdrew with it. When I saw her account balance, I was ashamed of myself. I knew that truly there was a class difference. We spent a lot of time at night, saying various s*xy things, sending cute messages and talking about love. CLICK TO CONTINUE READING... Click to Post

#Diary Of Nymphomaniac #Episode 23 #story #The Diary Of Nymphomaniac

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myvoicenottheoneyougiveme · 5 years ago

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Let's make this very simple. Forget all the business around what kind of person does what. Let's just focus on the actions themselves.

What purpose do they serve? You say like you have said before when you've been cornered on your bullshit. Oh, so now it's for "me", for my own good, my benefit.

What good? What benefit does invasion of privacy provide to the person you are violating? How does it help them? What are you accomplishing by doing nothing more than trying to make the other person feel violated? Half the time, more than half the time, you aren't even saying anything. It's just intimidation. It's "I'm watching you", "I have power over you", "there is no such thing as personal space, or personal discretion. I have robbed you of this vital relationship function." Without the ability to choose how close or how far, without the ability to invest in others, without the choice being made by the person themselves, all you've done is void the very basis of human connection. There is no such thing as trust. There is no such thing, no meaning behind "choice" when there's no such thing as choice. Relatsionship building is built on, it's fundamentally built of trust. Human connection like other forms bridging two persons, it's a door that opens "outward". It is not a door that is KICKED "inward".

I've digressed into the utter futility of forcing oneself and however many others onto someone, where it concerns any kind of healthy functioning or human connection. I've followed your excuse to its logical conclusion.

How are you helping me? How am I not traumatized? How am I not worn down? How aren't very important parts of "me" nullified? How am I not strangled and suffocated? How am I not stamped out only to be replaced with a version of me you've conjured (from within yourself) for your narrative?

Who is "this" for? What purpose? When it's not even forcing others or yourself in some insane notion of "intervention" but just the simple act of making your target feel violated for the sake of making them feel violated, and then you lieing about it.. what purpose is that gaslighting serving? Who are you helping by attempting to destroy their very grip on what is and isn't real? Who are you helping? Who is "this" for?

Who? Who is soothed? Who is being made to feel better? Who is offloading caustic toxicity out of themselves in the most dysfunctional and pathological way imaginable? Who are you helping? Who are you helping?

Who is "this" for?

It's not for me ...There are no fucking words for just how much weight a person can put into that statement. It's not for me. It is not love. It is not "compassionate" to abuse--to beat down and saddistically destroy in the most inventive ways imaginable. It is not for "me" that you do these things. "This" is not for me.

And it's not for "them". Now I'm an awful bad terrible thing that you need to save the world from. We've flipped the narrative again. But no one's lives are made better by the lies you tell. No one's life has ever been made better by the drama you create that you then sell yourself as the solution to. No one's life has ever been convenienced or helped more than hindered by your intervention on anyone's behalf. How many unmendable rifts? How many steps forever after on eggshells, even after you've been exposed for the liar you are? Never the same. Never. No one is helped by the lies you tell.

Who is "this" for? Who are you helping more than yourself to feel better? Who are you helping by offloading your toxicity into me? Who benefits? Who are you helping by elevating yourself to the position of a god on earth, a messiah for the lot of us? Who are you helping? Who is "this" for?

Can you answer that simple question? Can you?

Your next move is an attempt to tell me what I feel and what really affects me or not and what's actually good for me or not. You, you're going to tell me what I feel. You. "Well, well, see you're just a bad terrible something or other and people would rather know. They'd rather not be in the wrong place at the wrong time and be that victim." What victim? "Well, um. Well, you're just kinda this. Just bad. Bad bad. Give me a minute I'll come up with something. And I'll change my mind daily about what that is as the situation calls for even if so many of those things are utterly contradictory. You're all of it. Whatever I say you are, you're that. And as long as people are willing to believe me and affirm without a second thought my newly constructed realities as I pull them out of my ass, my truth will become truth." And the stranger the people the better. Who better than total strangers with no other frame of reference than the one you've given them, people for whom I didn't exist until you made me "known" to them? Or you'll find a way to make it personal for anyone else. Manipulation, utter and total manipulation of anyone and everyone, myself once included hook line and sinker. ...But when you could no longer control me, you were forced to use others. They've always been your safety net, always been the backdrop.

For all of your deflections and attempts to avoid the simplest tells of what is really going on here, I ask you again...

Who is "this" for? Who are you helping other than yourself? Who gains by all of "this"? Who becomes the center of everyone's world? Who becomes the lifeline? Who becomes indispensible? All you need is a crisis. Without drama, there is no need for you. So you create drama, so you can sell yourself back to everyone (myself included) as the answer to the chaos you yourself create. You position yourself between one person and the entire world and you feed on all that passes between. You are the middle-(wo)man taking your cut, siphoning the life. As your target's life shrinks, as he is crushed beneath you and your storm, you grow fatter and all the more encompassing. A parasite, an emotional parasite. A consuming, predatory being feeding. What you can't get from me outright, you get from others at my expense. I am a production and you are my producer (if I may throwback to the conversation about predatory individuals in the entertainment industry). "This" is your show, and you're selling tickets. You gain ALL at the expense of the person you're using. How many people, girls especially, chewed up and spit out by the "entertainment" industry? That was the topic of conversation that you twisted to make a personal attack on someone in order to make a rallying cry to my coworker(s). How are attacks like this not just you assigning to me the disowned parts of yourself that you're trying not to see? How isn't it nearly 100% of the time not just you offloading and distancing yourself from things you don't want to accept about yourself by assigning those parts to me? Parts as though they were parts in a show, a role I was to play, a script I am to follow in the reality you've constructed around me to sell to the world at my expense? You are aggrandized as I am buried alive.

Who is "this" for?

EDIT re re: Cue the rotating screen as though this were a game of basketball. Now, the antagonist is magically a different person and therefore somehow not the object of this rebuke. Hey, I might even soften up if she’s sweet and innocent enough. Oh, maybe she’ll sell it to me again like she’s just caught up in this crazy thing and as much a victim to it as I am. Like when I destroy all the excuses built on the first iteration of “this”. You shed her and sweep it under the rug as though you are not precisely the same no matter which of you I am supposedly addressing. And when the other she is underperforming and is being soundly called out on the bullshit, you rotate again. There’s no cornering one person in the act when you just magically decide you are a different person. As a team, one of you can take the fall in the mean time while the other distances herself from the obvious failing. But the game never ends. It doesn’t matter how many times each of you primary sponsors (my mother included) is supposedly brought down off of that throne, the game never ends.

The question applies regardless of who you say you are at this moment in time. It doesn’t matter. And my intent to be free of you remains the same regardless of who you say you are at this moment in time. I will not and cannot live this way.

This will end, one way or another. It will end, I promise you it will end.

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