#myself after my 'friend' told me they were embarrassed to be associated with me for being autistic (flat out told me this)

[unbelievabelle]

reduced to tears trying to clean out my inbox

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You (Polin) - Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

Chapter 6

Dearest Penny,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My journey home was perilous and took far too long. However, I did receive good news upon my arrival. Mother was awake in bed, the worst of her illness having passed recently. It will still take a few weeks but the doctor is confident she will recover fully. I have told her a lot about you. As I predicted, she is excited to meet you. 

I miss you. I remind myself it’s only a matter of time before we can start our new life together, full of adventure and laughter, but it still feels too long.

Once my affairs are settled, I will be traveling to London to see you. I know your Mama will not take kindly to me but I hope to win her over with my intelligence and wit (I’m envisioning the mocking smile on your lips as I write this).  If all else fails, I shall win her approval through jewelry, as you suggested. Hopefully that will alleviate her concerns about an untitled son-in-law.

Love,

Arthur.

Penelope read the letter again, smiling to herself. While she and Arthur could converse for hours, his letters tended to be short and to the point. And though they lacked a writer’s flair, his letters still felt distinctly like him and she appreciated that.

With other men she was shy and tongue-tied, and they were never interested in her anyway, but Arthur Debling had been different. At a dinner gathering in Ayleshire, it was he who had approached her, and once she got over her initial shyness the conversation flowed between them. Perhaps it was because he was a merchant and not a member of nobility, but from the very beginning he treated her with respect and a matter-of-fact stance rarely displayed by others. To him she wasn’t some woman in desperate hunt for a husband or an awkward, shy wallflower to be avoided at all times. She was Penelope Featherington and she was enough.

For the first few weeks there had been no romantic intentions, they simply talked of art and poetry. Over time she came to see he possessed a brilliant scientific mind that he went out of his way to hide. Only when she questioned him did he finally admit he was embarrassed of his intelligence and felt the need to dampen his curious mind from others. That was the first night she started to see him in a different light.

“Penelope!”

The sound of Mama's voice brought Penelope out of her reverie. After hiding the letter, she made her way toward her mother’s chamber in the opposite corner of the hallway. Portia was already dressed for bed and brushing her hair when Penelope entered the room. “Yes, Mama?”

The older woman cast her a quick glance in the mirror. “Lady Violet has invited us for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

Pen paused. Tea at the Bridgertons meant seeing Eloise and perhaps even Colin. “I will be in-”

“And before you come down with a sudden case of illness, I will remind you that personal invitations of this nature have been rare of late. We can not afford to turn down any, let alone the Bridgertons.”

Between the Marina scandal and then Cousin Jack, there were many who no longer wished to associate with the Featheringtons. While that was a relief for Pen, she knew the slow exclusion really hurt Portia even if she did hide the pain behind a mask of angry condescension.

“Yes, Mama. I understand.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, child. I will not have you looking haggard tomorrow.”

Penelope sauntered back to her chamber, her mind still reeling. No doubt Eloise would be present and angry with her. Would she at least pretend to be polite? Pen didn’t know. So far they had mostly avoided each other, except for the ball last week when Eloise had warned her to stay away from Colin.

After entering the chamber, she was busy locking the door when a noise startled her.

“Pen.”

Colin’s throaty growl made her gasp, her body suddenly taut.

Hesitant, she turned around.

It had been two days since she last saw him at the park. And now he was here in her chamber, shamelessly sitting at the edge of her bed. Hair tousled, clothes messy and disheveled, he stared at her intently. His face was unshaven, revealing a stubble growth of a day or two. Instead of taking away from his looks, however, it only emphasized his handsomeness more.  

Her heart started pounding in her chest, both from the anger that flooded through her veins and the knowledge that his hold upon her was still so potent. “How did you get in here?” she asked, keeping her voice steady so he couldn’t sense how much his presence unnerved her.

“I climbed up the tree and through the window.”

As if violating her privacy was a daily occurrence for him.

“You’re so very determined to ruin me, aren’t you?”

“I was careful. No one saw me.”

“Well, that makes it alright then.”

“I didn’t take you as the sarcastic sort, Pen.”

“Add it to the growing list of things you don’t know about me.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes locked with hers.

The silence between them grew more tense by the second while they held still, as if a single movement could ignite a fire that would burn them both.

And then he stood up. “Do you know why I’m here, Pen?”

There was a button missing from his waistcoat, dirt on his breeches, and he had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment. Her heart flipflopped in her chest. “I don’t care. I simply want you to leave.”

A bitter smile shadowed his lips. “Because it’s that easy for you, isn’t it? You’ve moved on already.”

“Yes.” The strength in her voice surprised even her when all she felt was anxiety twisting up her insides. “It’s time you do the same.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? That I’ve been trying?” Anger laced his words, hurt etched onto his face. “You don’t want to have anything to do with me yet I can’t imagine a single moment of my life without you. Why is that, Pen?”

With a slow and deliberate gait, he swaggered forward.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Your voice, your smile, your taunts...” He tapped the side of his temple erratically, eyes heavy with emotion. “Always in my fucking mind, refusing to give me even one moment of peace. You’ve been torturing me!"

With every step that drew him closer, waves of madness surged through her body. She didn’t want to feel like this, like her mind and body were completely out of her control.

“Why is this happening to me, Pen?” His voice cracked. “Why do I feel this way?” He clutched his heart, his long, lean fingers rubbing the spot over his waistcoat repeatedly. “It didn’t used to be like this, I was fine before! But now I think about you leaving me and it’s like I can’t breathe. Like a part of me will be lost forever.”

Her eyes softened. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the one who broke her heart. In his place was her dear friend, the boy she had known her entire life and loved for as long, and he was pleading for her help. “That empty feeling will go away, Colin. I promise.” She took a furtive step toward him. “You’ve only just returned, your life probably feels untethered with everything changing around you. But give it time, let yourself settle in, and things will be better.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Nothing will ever be the same without you.”

“It will, I promise.” She sent him a sad smile. “You will meet someone beautiful and kind, and she will be everything you ever wanted. The true love of your life. And this sadness that you feel right now will become a distant memory.”

A beat of silence followed as he contemplated her words.

Would the agonizing pain that coursed through her at the thought of him with another woman ever lessen? She didn’t know. Maybe with time and distance she would be free of this curse, but for now he was still very much embedded in her soul and the eventual reality of him falling in love made her want to retch.

“Is that what you think will happen for you, Pen? You’ll marry this Arthur and make me a distant memory?”

There was no outward change in him yet she immediately sensed the shift within.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Do you think I will let that happen?”

She stared at him defiantly as he approached her. “You have no say in my life.”

“But I do, Pen.” The glint in his gaze sharpened, making his blue eyes appear even darker. “Because it’s me you’re in love with. It’s me you swore never to forsake.” He came to a stop in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “I intend to hold you to that.”

Her anger returned. “And I intend to fight you. Because I will not sacrifice my future to appease your selfishness.”

“I know,” he sighed, regret looming over his face. “I should never have asked you to do that. But that’s why I’m here, Pen. I want to make things right between us.”

Her demand to know how died on her lips as soon as he retrieved something out of the pocket of his waistcoat. Stunned, she stood frozen as he held out an emerald ring, one she recognized right away from having seen Lady Violet wear it occasionally. 

“My father gifted this to my mother on their tenth anniversary.” There was reverence in his voice as he spoke. “I think he chose it especially for the colour. It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“This has always been my favourite of mother’s jewelry. I knew one day I would gift it to my wife.”

Her mind went blank.

“And maybe now is that time.” He bent down on one knee in front of her, holding up the ring. “Will you marry me, Penelope Featherington?”

Time stopped.

For so long all she wanted was to be Colin’s wife. In her mind marrying him meant she would finally be happy and fulfilled. He would be the perfect husband, and she would be a member of the happy and loving Bridgerton family at last. All her dreams would finally be realized.

Except she wasn’t happy or even excited. The man she loved was on his knees, proposing to her, and all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. The proposal didn’t come from a place of love. No. Instead it was borne out of fear and a stubborn refusal to grow up. A last resort so he didn’t have to face losing their friendship.

Then there was Arthur. With him she didn’t have to hide, she could be who she truly was and not have to apologize for it. And she could continue to write, whether that be as Lady Whistledown, someone new or even herself, and do so without shame or regret.

Colin may have been her lifelong dream but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have new ones. And with Arthur, the life she wanted was within her grasp. A true possibility rather than simple fantasy.

Immediately she felt a sense of peace, knowing she was doing the right thing for herself.  “I’ve already said this to you before. I’m betrothed to another.”

In one fluid motion he slid the ring back into his pocket before rising to his full height. He had always towered over her but that had never intimidated her before. For the first time she felt a small twinge of fear percolating in her stomach, realizing the stark darkness on his face was also new.

He was quiet, too quiet, stalking her every move with his eyes, slowly pushing forward. A predator enjoying the rituals of the hunt, preparing his prey for the kill. Instinctively she retreated, moving back until the door lodged against her spine. He continued to move in, slowly but ferociously, invading every inch of her space until he was standing directly in front of her. She craned her neck to meet his stare, refusing to bow down.

“Is that a no, Penelope?”

She couldn’t think with him so close but she held strong. "Yes."

“Even though you’re in love with me and not fucking Arthur.” 

Maybe he thought throwing her love back in her face would embarrass her into submission but it had the opposite effect. Infuriated, she stood on her tiptoes to glare up at him. "So what? You think you can use my feelings to manipulate me?" She shook her head no. "I have dreams that matter to me far more than my love for you. And I will not jeopardize my chance to achieve them just for scraps of your attention."

Her words were meant to provoke his temper so he would withdraw. Instead his eyes softened as he hunched lower to look at her, his gaze roaming languidly over her face, a gentleness to them that made her insides dance with anticipation. She trembled when his hands cupped her cheeks while he studied every inch of her features, as if marking her in his memory. And then his thumb gently brushed over her pout, his dark blue eyes following the tremor of her lips, and all she could do was breathe slowly, tentatively, her heart drumming in her chest.

“I used to think you were the sweetest person I knew. Always so kind and agreeable,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “And easily forgotten.”

It hurt. Even though she had always known that that’s how people viewed her, if they bothered to see her at all - but to have him admit it was a different kind of pain. “Then forget me. Leave.”

He didn’t move, his gaze concentrated on her lips, thumb stroking left to right, right to left. “And now I can’t get this impertinent mouth of yours out of my head.”

It came as a shock when she realized Colin was hard, his erection pressed against her body. "You're aroused."

He met her eyes. “I’m aware.”

She swallowed audibly. “Why?”

Irritation surged through him. “You’re here, dressed in a robe with your beautiful hair down, talking to me, arguing with me, breathing around me, and you ask me why I’m aroused?” His hands slid down her body until they were at her waist, fingers curving into her sides as he pressed her tightly against him.

A faint gasp escaped her lips feeling his hardness.

“I want you, Pen,” was his raw, throaty plea. “I can’t stop.”

“Show me.” Her voice was firm, determined. “Show me how much you want me.”

To be contined...

A/N - Thank you for the support on this fic. Hope you're still enjoying it!

[4kennels]

My Life as a Dog

dawgboy4MASTER@aol.com

Chapter #1

Synopsis: A story of innocent young college boy changes his status to be a dog for a scientific experiment.

I have a powerful recurring fantasy image of myself. In the image, I am a pet dog. I have always loved animals and treasure my memories growing up with a pet golden retriever.

I loved that golden and he loved me. He was my prized possession. Through teenage triumphs and disappointments, I always knew that I had one true and loyal friend. I often told my pet about how lucky he was to be such a loved and treasured possession. I told him how lucky he was to have none of my worldly concerns. After all, I was his entire world. All he had to do is make me happy.

I missed my pet while I was away at college. I visited home as often as I could. I felt more than a bit guilty that I rushed home not to see my family, but to see my loyal pet. I was crushed when, in the middle of my junior year, he died.

A part of me died also. I felt guilt at not being with him for the last two and one half years or even at the end.

I had to go on. I returned to school and threw myself into my studies. I had been a psych major for the last year with a minor in biology. My friends drifted away as I focused more and more of my energies on my classes. I spent so much time in classes and hanging around the labs that I soon got to know the faculty quite well.

One of the professors and I seemed to hit it off on both an academic and personal plain. He was older and handsome and very intense when it came to his work. He taught three courses and spent the rest of his time working on grant research. What really got my attention was the fact that his test subjects were all canine.

I eventually applied for and got the job as his lab assistant. The job primarily involved feeding, cleaning up and grooming the dogs that were used in the professor's experiments. That was just fine with me. I would also get a chance to help out once in a while with his experiments.

The professor, William, was researching conscience and subconscious behavior programming techniques applied to animals. A lot of what we did was very reminiscent of puppy obedience school. It was only later that I learned that his major funding was coming from the CIA.

One day, he asked me if I wanted to earn a modest testing fee by helping him with one of his his projects. I eagerly agreed and reported to his lab early that Saturday. I was taken to an unused classroom and asked to fill out an extensive questionnaire. I was told that following that, I would be interviewed and then the testing would begin.

I was disappointed that the project did not involve the dogs which I had naturally grown quite close to. He told me that this phase of his work strictly involved human subjects.

The questionnaire covered a lot of personal background data including family, hobbies and interests. It even asked if I had any close friends, either a girl friend or a boy friend. Eventually the questions became more abstract and I realized that I was taking a very thorough psychological screening test.

I answered the questions as well and as honestly as I could. In fact it was a bit embarrassing when asked about my feelings toward animals and any special pets. I felt like I was betraying confidences between me and my pet.

Finally I finished the questionnaire. I realized that I had been watched because as soon as I set my pencil down, William came back into the room.

The next two hours were spent with me pouring out my soul to the professor in response to his constantly probing questions. Before I knew about it I was talking about my pet and how much I missed him and the closeness of our owner/pet relationship.

With this completed, I was told that there were two more tests to complete. The first was a brief medical examination including a blood test and extensive physical measurements. The second was a kind of word association game using a series of pictures.

The pictures ranged from the fairly abstract ink spot variety to some very strange and explicit pictures of sex and fetishes. The last picture and the one that really struck a nerve showed a man sitting in a comfortable chair reading his newspaper. Next to him on a lamp table was a drink. He was looking up from his paper and gazing thoughtfully at the image to his side. A small cocker spaniel was sitting up in a classic begging pose trying with all of its being to get his attention and to please its master. Sitting a couple of feet from the dog was a young man about my age. He was naked except for a studded dog collar padlocked tightly about his neck. He was up on his kneels with his hands drawn in front of him in exactly the same pose as the dog. He too was facing the man in the chair. But he was stealing a side ways glance at the dog.

I was asked to look at the man's face and explain as well as I could what he was thinking at that moment.

After some brief reflection, I said that he was embarrassed to be reduced to the same social status as the dog. But apparently proud to be his pet. He was obviously committed to pleasing his master. His look at the dog told me that he was feeling competitive with the dog and a bit jealous of the real canine.

The professor looked at me a little bit strangely as I interpreted the drawing. He seemed pleased by my responses.

There were more pictures, but soon the professor announced that we had done enough for the day. I was told that I had done very well and to come back tomorrow to discuss the results of the test. I was paid and dismissed.

That night I had a vivid dream about that last picture and of course I played the role of the collared man. I woke up and continued my dream in a semi waking state. Before I realized it, I had rubbed my self to a very satisfying orgasm. I couldn't get that picture and my resulting orgasm out of my mind for the rest of the morning.

That afternoon, I returned to the professor's lab. I was asked to wait in the room containing all of the dogs' cages. I didn't mind a bit and took the opportunity to scratch behind the ears of all of my little friends.

The professor then joined me and said that he wanted to follow up on yesterday's testing with one more procedure. I agreed and allowed myself to be put into a hypnotic trance. I woke up in what appeared to me to be seconds and felt very refreshed. I had no memory of what had occurred while I was in the trance.

The professor then confessed that I had not really been taking part in an experiment. He was in fact screening people for his next experiment. He had screened over a hundred people and narrowed the field down to two. Me and another guy on campus.

He later told me that his screening criteria included finding someone who would have an academic or professional interest in his behavior modification experiments, a person who liked being around and handling dogs, a person who was very open to subconscious programming such as hypnosis and someone with clear submissive tendencies. I blushed and objected to the last characterization, but knew it to be true.

We talked at length about his study and his goals to better understand the human mind. To test his understanding of the human mind, William had to demonstrate the ability to shape it and control it. Apparently the control aspect of his experiments was what kept the government's grant money coming in.

With this background, he asked me if I wanted to hear his proposal. He prepared me to be shocked. He also admitted that he had implanted several suggestions when I was under the hypnotic trance to help me understand and appreciate what he was about to tell me.

He explained that his research and animal experiments were done. They had been a great success. The dogs had helped him to demonstrate his theories and their application to the University and more importantly the Government.

The University was reluctant to take the next step with human trials. It threatening to shut him down when the Government Agent spoke up. The University was overruled and ordered to assist the professor to mount a full fledged demonstration with a human subject.

The project would demonstrate the professor's techniques to modify a human subject's behavior and to alter certain of the subject's personality traits.

The Government saw that the results would have far reaching applications ranging from criminal reform to covert government operations. The Agent wanted the toughest test that could be devised of the professor's theories.

The Agent reasoned that it wouldn't prove very much if one set of human characteristics were simply substituted for others He insisted that the personality transference should go deeper and involve an alternate personality completely alien to the subject. Looking around at the lab animals, he came up with the ultimate test of the professor's approach.

William explained that the Agent pulled him aside and privately asked how confident he was of his theories. Could William make a person take on the behavior and personality of say an animal? The answer was yes, but the process was not really designed for that.

The Agent apparently had his own agenda and would not listen to William's protests. The agent announced that the project funding would continue if and only if a human subject was conditioned to live for a full year as a dog.

William told me that both he and the University argued in vain. In the end the University was told to either support this project or lose all of their grant work. William was told that he had two choices only.

·==continue the experiment in the University setting

OR

===he would be forced to continue in an isolated government facility

Eventually both the University and William agreed to proceed with the human trials portion of the project.

I should have been stunned, but for some reason I calmly absorbed the fantastic story that William told me. I actually found myself wondering what it would be like to undergo this process and be a dog. Hell some of my closest friends had been dogs.

William said that he would not blame me if I simply got up and left. I insisted that I was OK and wanted to hear more. What I had heard so far intrigued me and I was curious about how they planned to proceed.

He assured me that all effects of the conditioning would be reversible. William said that I would be paid very well for my participation. I would receive full room and board, be granted 30 credits and have $100,000 deposited into my account for completing the trial. Jokingly, he also said that I would probably become famous. The downside was that I would have to take a year off from regular classes and probably delay my graduation by a semester or more. I would also not be able to see friends and family for the duration of the project.

As in any experiment with human volunteers, a number of legal releases and other documents would have to be executed by me and my parents.

I was concerned about what my parent's reaction would be, but William assured my that the Government would persuade them.

The release that I would have to sign sent shivers up and down my spine. William was not kidding, I would be a dog in every way for a full year. The release included:

==My statement that I have agreed to suspend for the term of one year all of my rights and privileges as a human being and citizen of the country and state.

==My agreement and revocable permission to be treated as an animal in all aspects by the professor and his assignees.

==My acknowledgement that I would enjoy the protection of the animal human statutes and all rules and regulations concerning experimentation with lab animals.

==My permission for medical tests and otHis procedures.

== My agreement that I would undergo a rigorous canine training program which would include, but not be limited to, physical correction and subconscious programming.

William explained that part of the experiment involved my canine role outside of the lab. He said that school authorities would be advised and a feature story on the experiment would be run in the school and local newspaper. This way, I would cause less of a public sensation when seen being led on my leash.

He told me that I would be dressed in a transparent spandex bodysuit during the experiment. The only other thing that I would be wearing would be a special dog collar. The collar contains electronic monitoring and control equipment. William showed me the suit and collar.

I ran my fingers over the leather and metal of the collar and felt the shiny and tight body suit.

Lingering perhaps a little too long with the articles, William suggested that I take them home tonight. William then told me to sleep on his proposal and see him at 10:00am the next morning. There would be one more test if I agreed. The Government agent would be there and would want to meet the two candidates for the experiment.

Once again I had several vivid dreams of myself immersed in the dog role. The dreams were probably stimulated by my nighttime attire. Yes, I was already wearing the body stocking and the collar. The collar seemed to fit me exactly over the body stocking and had been difficult to get clasped. I dreamt that William was holding my leash in a puppy obedience class. I also dreamt that I was being taken for a walk across campus. Oddly, everyone we encountered treated me as a dog.

When I got up, I discovered that I had apparently jammed the collar's lock on the neck of the body stocking. Thank goodness that the stocking was fitted with a open crotch area.

Feeling quite embarrassed, I put a raincoat over the collar and bodysuit. Donning a pair tennis shoes, I set out for William's office for the third morning in a row.

William took one look at me without the raincoat and said that he would guess that my answer was yes. Turning beet red, I confirmed his assumption.

Without warning, William reached for what looked like a TV remote control. Following his pressing of a switch, I felt a tingling sensation emanating from the collar. Without any conscious thought, I dropped to my knees. I also found that I could not stand and could not talk.

He briefly tested my vocal ability finding that I was reduced to barking and growls. Reaching down to me, he attached a chain leash to my collar and led me into another room.

I was being "introduced" to the government agent. Apparently he liked what he saw. I was released from the collar's control and told that I could have the job if I wanted it. It would start in one week once all of the paperwork and medical lab work was completed.

Once we were alone again, William explained the function of the collar. Apparently I had been given a number of post hypnotic suggestions that could be individually triggered by the collar. The actual experiment would include this type and other control techniques.

William then reviewed all of the legal papers and a checklist for putting my things in storage, subletting my apartment and other things. I would have to work quickly to be ready in a week.

William sent me on my way. Once again I took the collar and bodysuit. I hoped that they would stimulate more dreams of my like as a dog

END OF CHAPTER #1

Hope you are enjoying…shall i continue.

[doubledyke]

dissociatED ch. 2

the girls (edd and eddy) are no longer fighting

“Greetings! You’ve reached Eddward. Unfortunately, I’m unable to take your call at the moment. If you will, please leave a brief message with your name, and telephone number, and I’ll return your call as soon at my earliest convenience. Thank you!”

Eddy mocked the nasally voice under his breath after hanging up and tossing the phone onto the foot of his bed. It was bad enough that he would yet again be the one admitting defeat in another of their standoffs. Now he had to wait for a call back just to apologize? Restless with frustration, he hopped off his bed and paced around his bedroom as if to follow his train of thought.

He’s ignoring me. He’s gotta be! His phone’s literally attached to his hip with that tacky ass belt holster. He shuddered to think of the gauche accessory.

Maybe Ed’s sixth sense was wrong and he’d finally fucked it up for real this time. The only logical explanation was that Double Dee had reached his threshold for Eddy’s bullshit once and for all and would never forgive him. One dickish remark too many. And the last one was a doozy.

-

“So you’re not coming?” The breath hitched in Eddy’s throat released as a scoff.

“Eddy, if you'd-”

“Y'know, I only agreed to go cuz you looked like you were gonna fucking cry when I said I didn’t want to. Here I was, willing to embarrass myself for you and you’re gonna flake?” He scowled at the shiny plastic garment bag hanging from the frame of his closet.

Edd rolled his eyes at the guilt trip. He looked down at his notepad where ‘sorry’ was scrawled several times in a hodgepodge of print and cursive.

"Due to a… discrepancy in scheduling, I've had to make a few discommodious adjustments to a-accommodate an important - mandatory, in fact - meeting of the associated student body… Believe you me, if there was a way I could be there, I would.” Edd should have left his sputtering at that, but felt compelled to inject additional awkwardness. “Yessiree. Front row." His teeth scraped his lip while he hoped against hope that his lousy excuse would be accepted with minimal scrutiny.

"You lie like a cheap rug! If you cared so much, you'd find a way to be here."

Edd’s cheeks were burning. Though he considered himself to be fairly skilled in the art of prevarication, he should have known better than to think he’d get one over on Eddy “Spinner of Yarns” McGee.

"Y-You don't understand," he choked. Citing the enervating anxiety he felt about venturing back to Peach Creek sounded like even more of a cop out in his head than the nonexistent meeting. In all truth, the mere thought of taking in its familiar sights, sounds and smells for an entire day worsened his chronic shortness of breath. Not to mention the hours-long trip just to get there. Before he could find the words, a gruff voice interjected.

"Forget it, you're doin' me a favor. Just wish you'd told me before I rented the fuckin' robe." he bluffed, knowing full well his parents weren't going to let him skip commencement after they paid for his cap and gown. "And I don't get why you feel the need to lie. You know you suck at it.”

"Yes well," Edd cleared his throat before making another attempt to explain. "Your and Ed’s educational milestone is important to me, Eddy. Unfortunately, I have other obligations." His unintentionally stony tone prompted a softening of his next words. "I do hope you'll still attend. Earning a high school diploma is quite an achievement for you."

"For me? What the hell’s that s'posed to mean?!"

"I meant nothing by it! Though I'm sure you'd agree, things were a bit touch and go for a while there." Eddy remained silent during his friend's dramatic pause.

His trudge to the educational finish line had indeed been a struggle, which was why he was so hurt by Edd ditching. Their off and on tutoring sessions over the years were the only reason he maintained a solid 2.3 GPA. Apparently that all meant nothing now.

"I’m very proud of you, Eddy."

"Uh-huh. Not proud enough, apparently." The cantankerous little cad couldn't help it. If there was a snide remark to be made, his soul wouldn’t rest until he was the one to make it. "All that belly achin’ you do about your parents - now look at you! You’re acting just like ‘em."

Edd's wide eyes blinked incredulously at such an emotional sucker punch. They’d exchanged their fair share of injurious insults across years of tumultuous friendship, but their tacit agreement not to exploit certain vulnerabilities had never been breached. During even their worst tiffs, he wouldn’t have dreamed of such a low blow from someone who claimed to be his best friend.

Eddy's knee bounced furiously while he waited for a response to his odious words that hung like Ed’s B.O.. It was a shitty thing to say, sure, but what kind of jerk misses their buddy’s graduation? As far as he was concerned, he was the real victim here. So he doubled down.

“You can tell Ed too, cuz I’m not in the mood for the waterworks.”

Rustling was heard on the other line before the call disconnected.

-

Edd froze with his hand gripping the front door knob of his shared apartment. The deadbolt clicked with the turning key, then the door gave way to his weary shoulder. He was still adjusting to the culture shock of seeing how people lived when they didn’t have a pathological need for order. Living with strangers - living with anyone was taking Edd much longer to get used to than expected.

Indignation boiled his insides while he stood eyeing the open floor plan from the doormat. As he stepped inside, he kicked the folded corner of an area rug back, and picked up a couple of throw pillows from the middle of the floor. Loose filler paper spilled from the open pocket of a backpack tossed on the couch. He brought his hands up to his temples to serve as blinders to the squalor as he continued toward the hall.

Being the friendly folks they were, his roommates frequently reminded him that he was in fact allowed to come out of his room. Edd always politely declined, confounded by the concept of relaxing in a room that hadn’t been dusted in recent memory. At this point, it was clear that his colleagues were less than receptive to his sermons on the advantages of sanitization, organization and minimalism. Now he just did his best to ignore the unvacuumed floors, the sinkful of dishes and clutter collecting dust on every flat surface. It was just his luck to be housed with two people whose filth gave Ed a run for his money. A lineup of empty soda cans was swiped off the kitchen table by the messenger bag jutting from Edd’s hip as he zipped by. He startled at the noise, but stuck to his resolution to no longer clean up after capable adults.

The door of his austere refuge opened to cool, purified air, subtly scented with lavender from a reed diffuser. He entered just far enough to close the door and hang his bag and windbreaker from the hook on the back. The mattress protector and sheets crinkled as he plopped onto the twin bed and plucked his hat off for a vigorous massage of his tender scalp. As he folded over and tugged at his double knotted shoelaces, he glanced up and saw the phone he’d left on his desk all day.

He first realized it was missing during mid-morning breakfast with his ESL conversation partner. Mostly unbothered, since incoming phone calls were a rarity these days, it slipped his mind before he even finished his crepes. It wasn’t until early evening that he was reminded of its absence when his steel guitar tutee was ten, then twenty minutes late for their lesson. He attributed the absence to end-of-summer blues, but just in case, he tucked his shoes off to the side and grabbed the little nylon pouch. His heart sank when he flipped the screen up and saw that he’d missed six calls from one of the few numbers he had saved.

"Hello?"

"Eddy? I-I'm so sorry, I… I was in a rush as usual and forgot my cell phone at home this morning. Is everything okay?" While waiting for an answer, he’d been recounting a list of worst case scenarios and going over the most logical reaction for each.

"Aye, Sockhead! Long time no talk?" He cringed at the poor attempt at sounding more composed than he felt. "Uh, how are ya?"

"I’m returning your call. Well, calls.” Edd’s concern quickly gave way to snark once he caught his friend's signature cheeky tone. "How are you?"

"Can't complain. Well I could, but who wants to hear it, amirite?"

Several seconds passed before Edd responded to the hackneyed quip.

"Seems I'm not the only one with a tendency to mirror their parents."

For once, didn't take long for Edd to get to the point. Eddy deflated like a balloon. At least with the elephant acknowledged he could cut the crap.

"Look, I didn't mean what I said, okay?" His voice was a low mumble. "I was just frustrated with the whole… thing. If it's any constellation, my folks made me go anyway."

"Oh yes, I feel quite consoled, Eddy." The corners of his mouth tightened. "I do appreciate the effort it must have taken you to form something adjacent to an apology.”

"Right…" Eddy responded, then waited for the "but".

"After some reflection, however, I realized that there may have been some merit to your callous comment." Edd recrossed his legs and leaned back in his ergonomic office chair. "I told you I'd be there cheering you on when you advanced this next phase of life. And I wasn't.” His ears tingled with imminent lacrimation. “For that, I sincerely apologize."

Eddy was used to his friend's frequent blubbering by now, but his chest still tightened when Edd’s voice cracked. Luckily, befriending a crybaby was great practice for offering comfort in moments like these.

"Hey, c'mon. You're nothin' like those tight asses. Not with the, like, important stuff." He still wasn’t very good at it. “'Sides, I still had Ed! Oh man, you shoulda seen it! He tripped over his own dumb feet twice on his way up to the stage." A hearty laugh cut through the tension. “I hope someone was recording! Fuckin’ idiot.”

"Yes, he told me as much.” Edd sniffled and let out a weak laugh. “In fact, he gave me quite the rundown for most of your past academic year. Including the so-called senior prank you hoped to pull." A sneaking smile accentuated his playful scorn.

"Me? A prank?" Eddy gasped and clutched his proverbial pearls. "It was a good one, huh?"

"Mmm, from what I could gather during his breathless retelling, you hoped to replace each student's photo in the yearbook with your own portrait?" Edd's smirk grew. "Sounds less like a prank and more a manifestation of unchecked narcissism."

"I thought it was funny. If that girlfriend of yours would’ve played along it would've been a scream." Eddy replied flatly. "I swear she used her piddly authority as head of the yearbook club to unfairly target me. What’d I ever do to her?” He gestured wildly alone in his room. “She wouldn't even approve my quote! Instead, she put some mealy-mouthed bullshit about the value of education. You need to get a handle on her.”

Edd momentarily ignored the bulk of the erroneous ravings and gave in to curiosity about what kind of trouble Eddy had been causing in his absence.

"Dare I ask just what vile excerpt you insisted be printed below your definitive school photo? The photo, mind you, that generations of our fellow alumni will undoubtedly come across?" Edd closed his eyes as innumerable offensive possibilities raced through his mind.

"It was gonna be that old Sinatra quote. Y’know, 'The best revenge is massive success.’ But oh no, little miss Steinem said it'd be a cold day in hell before a misogynist was commemorated in her precious book. Hell, I don't even care for the guy, but it's a good quote."

"That's it? Funny, I imagined something far more…blue. Although, she does have a point about the normalization of mid-century machismo. I'd think you of all people would be sympathetic to her cause."

Eddy paused to figure out what Edd meant.

"By the way, Nazz and I separated shortly before your class graduation. I was going to tell you when we last spoke but-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on! What’d she write ya a Dear John letter?"

A crackling laugh sent Edd recoiling from the phone’s speaker. Eddy made no effort to downplay his glee at the news he'd been waiting to hear for nearly a year.

"What happened, didja sprout a few chest hairs and scare her off?"

Edd held his matter-of-fact reply until the snickering ceased.

"The hardships of maintaining a long distance relationship proved too much to abide, I'm afraid. I think we had an inkling that our dalliance was doomed to dereliction, but it certainly was fun while it lasted."

"The fuck does that mean? You dumped her?"

"I like to think of it as mutual, Eddy. We came to realize that we were simply two ships passing in the night. Alas, separated by the briny tides of the vast ocean of inconstancy we call life."

"Yeah, she dumped ya. And now I see why, ew!"

"Oh, and I suppose women are just lining up to jump into that unmade bed of yours?" Edd snorted.

"Uh, duh! They’re linin’ the block just for the chance. Had to install a turnstile for chrissake!" He smiled when Edd's scoff morphed into a genuine laugh.

"Why, it’s a wonder you found the time to call me. I’m flattered.”

“Yeah well, even Lothario needs a breather from time to time.” Eddy flipped over on the bed to lay on his stomach. “What about you? How's the single life treatin' ya? You must be bumpin' uglies with a different chick every night, huh?"

Edd rolled his eyes at the notably accusatory tone and accompanying vulgar image.

"Please. If I didn't know any better, I’d think I had unwittingly signed a vow of celibacy along with the lease for my off-campus apartment." Edd stood from his chair and stretched with a drawn out groan, then took the three short steps back to his outgrown bed. "Not that I've had the time, nor energy for such extracurricular activities, given my shortsightedness in arranging my summer schedule."

Relief washed over Eddy.

"What, you mean to tell me you ain't goin' to the keggers at Alpha Beta Soup every weekend?" They both chuckled at the absurd idea.

"Tempting as it may be to attend a gathering of belligerent, red-faced bloviators, where the guest of honor is a barrel of Bud Light - I think I'll pass."

"You gotta make time for yourself or you'll go nuts, Dee. What've you been doing all break then?"

"Well, I just finished my final class of the summer… Oh, and I’ve started tutoring again.” Exhaustion stopped him from elaborating. “Now, I’m waffling.”

"About what?"

"Well, I'd really like to see you and Ed before classes commence in a few weeks. I'm just not sure…"

"Not sure?" Eddy's forehead scrunched. "I'm- er, Ed's practically dysfunctional without ya. More than usual, that is."

"Oh good lord, please tell me he's still employed?" Edd's subconscious foot shaking paused while awaiting an answer.

"Yeah, yeah he's still at the plant." Eddy heard a faint exclamation of relief from his friend. "Him and May are still mushy as ever, yadda yadda yadda. I can tell he's missin’ ya though."

"It's not that I don't want to see you! I'm just once again letting worry cloud my better judgment." Edd looked down at the throbbing, red thumb he'd been mindlessly picking at since before their call started. "I'm not even sure where I'd stay if I did come to visit."

There was a brief silence while Eddy's brain caught up to his friend's words. He'd been stuck on the irony of Edd worrying about Ed's job, when in reality he was the one who'd recently nearly wrecked his car looking for "Help Wanted" signs.

"Well, depending on when you wanna come, my folks are takin' their uh… 'couples' cruise' in like, a week. You could stay at my place."

Edd's face lit up at his friend's offer.

"Oh, Eddy, that would be fantastic! And what convenient timing… How long will they be away?"

"Mom said they're leaving for the airport Tuesday morning, but I'll have to find out when they're comin' back. It's usually like a week."

"Excellent!" Edd squeaked excitedly. "As soon as you find out I'll buy my bus ticket, and-"

"Bus?!" Eddy sat up. "You really think you'd survive a ride on the Freakshow Express? Get real! I'll drive it. Just gimme the address."

"Honestly, Eddy, the bus isn't that bad. I'm of the opinion that having to endure a few eccentrics is a small price to pay for ecologically sustainable transportation."

"I want to come get you." He was a little embarrassed by how intense he suddenly sounded. His heart rate picked up. An eyebrow arched beneath Edd's hat.

"Have you been adhering to your vehicle's maintenance schedule?"

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Eddy laughed and shook his head. "My car's fine. I just got the brake pads replaced, and I think they changed the oil. Might've been the wiper fluid... I dunno. How bout I bring ya the receipt and you can write your analysis on the way back?"

"Oh, I'm sorry that I'm not jumping at the opportunity to be stranded on some rural back road with no phone service, and none of the tools required to correct whatever mechanical misfortune undoubtedly befalls us given our seemingly supernatural bad luck. Do you even have a roadside emergency kit? Preferably including road flares?"

"I still have the one you gave me! You act like we're goin' to Canada or something. It's a few hundred miles. I got cables, a spare, a jack, and I'll wear my cut offs in case we need to flag down some meathead to do the grunt work."

Edd's giggling tapered with a sigh.

"In that case, I look forward to seeing you, Eddy."

"I bet you do." He teased, making Edd redden. "Nah, I'm excited to see you too. Maybe we could, uh... get some lunch or somethin' while we're out there." It was a benign suggestion, but heightened excitement made it seem risky.

"I'd like that." Edd's calm voice masked the fact that he was screaming internally. No, he wouldn't read to much into his friend's words. He'd only end up hurt again. Instead, he read his watch. "I hate to cut our conversation short, Eddy, but I've got to start my nighttime routine."

As kids, they'd yap on the phone for hours with no lull until one or both of them fell asleep clutching the receiver. Eddy found himself grinning like an idiot at the not-so-distant memories. After such a long stretch of not speaking, it was difficult to say goodbye.

"Alright, have fun scrubbing your elbows or whatever it is you do."

"You know I will!"

"I'll let you know what my mom says. I'll text you!"

"Sounds great. Good-"

"Don't forget your phone!"

"I'll clip it to my belt tonight."

"'You better."

"Good night, Eddy."

"Night, Dee."

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ don’t-cry conditioning, trauma details in orange

I’m learning how to cry. I can do it, though only for a few minutes. Frustration tears. I was told growing up that crying implied that I was in need and worthy of help, and that neither of those would ever be true. That’s not the same base the others got, and that seems to matter.

I cry when there is no help. It’s the opposite of what attach-cry is supposed to do — everyone nearby will hurt me, and noise will make it worse. I can’t cry alone, or with friends. I know we cried when our therapist said they’d keep us, but I can’t connect whether that was me. I remember from outside my body, watching but not feeling.

I cried when the legal aid on campus told us they would not help us. I cried when the police asked who was following us. I cried with ‘clients’ who didn’t like me, and I cried with perps who hit me more. I cry when I have to explain to another adult that I am in danger, but only after they stop believing me.

I feel hands on my throat telling me to stop with harsh whispered voices. I stop breathing because I think they’re still there. I still cry.

The others know me as weak, soft and incapable, an embarrassment to myself and the family and them. I don’t want to cry, but I want to want to. I don’t mean to make a scene, but the tears flow without a care in the world. It’s not safe to cry, but I’m learning.

I start crying as I talk, when it sinks in that no one is listening. The emotions don’t stay with me, and I stop crying once I feel it.

I have so much shame for my tears. I associate a smell with them, but I can’t place it. There’s an undertone of rot. If I show bad emotions, others will see the lie. They’ll find it distasteful, they’ll know I’m nothing but meat acting like a person. I’m not lying, but I hear the lines they fed me; attention whore, alligator tears, don’t you go pretending, you asked for this, disgusting.

Are we all meant to process this on our own? I’ve worked through memories of a theme before, with the dissociated self-states and selves with self-states contained in me, but I can’t keep memories outside my shell. Does that make sense? We’re too separate at a certain level, and I can only work with them as another person.

I am a subsystem alter with subsystem alters who have parts. I’m one self of several who share a portion of self-states, and my self covers other selves with states of their own. The self-states I share bind us closer than the not-me of everyone else, and we switch who holds the relevant states. My inside selves are all mine, and I’m not one of them as much as I am the shell over them. They have their own states, which are all mine because I surround them.

The not-me is with the ones I don’t share any self-states with. Their fragments are built up different than mine, even when we have the same fragment copies. Those fragments make it so even an elaborate self-state duplicated for each of us isn’t exactly the same. I can’t blend with them so easily, and then there are plenty I can’t blend with at all.

The thing with blending is that sometimes only one of us gets the learning, and sometimes neither of us do outside of the blend we were. I can feel kinship towards the others, and we’re working on our ability to blend whenever we want, but not at the risk of fusing by accident. That’s not spontaneous fusion, which is fusion because it was right or for an unknown purpose. It’s fusion we messed up on, and it’s distressing to not know if we’ll be back to ourselves.

I cry, so I want to practice blending with the ones who have emotions to feel. But I have to blend my insiders first, and I have to negotiate blending or not with the subsystem I’m a member of. And then, when I can handle emotions and be present as myselves, I can show others how to cry.

The blending on my own takes trauma work, which is awful. I have to recognize every other self in the folder of my self, and I have to be present with them and help them heal. All of the ones who need to participate, and all of the self-states and amnesia each of them has.

It’s a looming goal. And it takes more conscious processing, so I need more energy allocations and subrealm time. This would be a nice time to cry, but I have to do the work to get that luxury. Time to go process by sitting on tile and looking at my hands.

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

my childhood best friend threw away a decade of friendship like it was garbage and i was the mouldy stinky bin juice in the bottom of the bag, because it was convenient. and even years later she couldnt accept accountability or acknowledge that I didn't deserve that, and that I was actually blameless. and it keeps me up wondering what she actually thinks I did to wrong her. like im perplexed.

for context, the drama, and the saucy deets:

we were best friends from ages like 5-16, but i was a year older. and right after i graduated high school, she got caught out by her parents for having a secret Facebook profile, and it turns out she actually did so much shady stuff (talked mad shit about her family, and also told extremely comical lies in DMs to friends of hers), was posting about how she was suicidal, etc. and even actually had a heap of her posts censored from me (like full on having a second life...) and she pinned it on me. said i was posing as her.

i have no idea why she decided to just turn on me. she later said its bc she was mad i didnt make plans with her before i moved away for college, but this happened months before i moved.

we had a falling out earlier that year that we didnt really patch up very well. she brought a new friend into our group, and her and that new friend decided to turn on our other friend and make her life a living hell, simply because she answered a question in class, with a different interpretation to their answers, and they were embarrassed. it was petty and disgusting, and i refused to stand by it. they isolated themselves from our group at school, and i started distancing myself from her outside of school, bc all she wanted to do was talk smack about our other friend. i didnt have the balls to stand up to her, but i refused to be associated with her bullying campaign. they blocked me on socials, and i had to make a vague callout post to get her attention and tell her to cut her shit out and apologise or we would take the evidence of her bullying to the school administration. and she was like "im so sorry if i did what you said i did, ive honestly disassociated the last few months and i dont remember" which is the biggest pile of horse shit. it like she didnt do the same thing 5 years earlier, at a different school with different friends, when a new girl came along, and she froze out the other girl in the group. thats what we call a pattern of toxic behaviour.

anyway, end of year rolls around, and i was trying to book a camping trip away with all the girls, to celebrate my graduation. but she just didnt ask her parents. but our mothers are friends and they had talked about it, and her mother told my mum, that she could go, but all she had to do was actually ask her for herself. and she didnt. i think her mum ended up confronting her about it and she denied even knowing about it. even tho she and i, and my mother had all discussed it together. so her mother knew she was lying.

her mum got really suspicious. it transpired and her mum confiscated her phone and went through it, and discovered her secret Facebook account. and it was a few weeks before she pinned it on me. and her mum just ate that up because she was in denial about her good little catholic daughter actually being p fucked up. in those weeks before she blamed me, her mum suggested us all getting together and working things out, but i refused,

because i was 16 and not about to have my mummy fix my friendship, as if that would even work. you just tell your mum what she wants to hear so she will leave you alone. plus i was deep in the closet and didnt want my friend to out me, and i thought she might just be desperate and spiteful enough to do that (plus i had a falling out with a different friend the year before, and that friend did threaten to out me). further, there is absolutely no privacy in having your parents manage your social interactions, and without privacy there is no honesty, and therefore nothing is genuine or productive. it would just be a very uncomfortable afternoon of make believe and i wasnt in the mood.

so flash forward, she blames everything on me, bc im moving away and im a easy scapegoat, and i guess our friendship wasnt worth all that much to her. just before i move away i send her an email. this friend had blocked me on everything. but she couldnt block me on her schhool email, and i knew her mum wouldn't see it since it wasnt on her phone. so i sent her a email, bc our friendship didn't mean nothing to me. and i was willing to forgive, if she would just be honest and take some accountability, i wasnt asking for much. i basically said 'hey, i know shit sucks for you right now. i dont understand everything that has happened, but i am here for you. if you want to talk and work things out, if you need a friend - i will listen, but only on the condition that our communications are private" and i thought that was very reasonable. but she was either deep in her delusions, or deep in paranoia, or on some sort of baseless vendetta... but she printed it out and took it home to her mum and said i was "threatening her into silence" go figure?! i was 200km away at this point. i assume a threat had some sort of implied follow-through? what was she scared i would do? take a hit out on her? expose her deepest secrets? bitch theyre already exposed. her mum had her phone. she literally had nothing to gain from that move?

this went down during my first week of college, when i was just a small town girl with big anxiety in the big city, and it really made that week so much worse and so much more stressful. i was starting a terrifying new chapter of my life, whilst dodging shrapnel from my old life blowing up behind me. it wasnt a good time.

at this stage, i figured Fuck Her. i gave her my olive branch and she snapped it and threw it back in my face. i was hurt and grieving the friendship that was embedded in every stage of my life thus far, but also Fuck Her.

several years later, she reaches out. she's all like "im on this path of self improvement and its a really important step in my journey to make amends. im sorry for the role i played in our friendship falling apart, but i think we can both acknowledge we made mistakes and are equally to blame" or something like that. it read like she was in a 10 step program. but i wasnt feeling it. she thinks we were equally to blame? someone's been living in Delulu. the fuck did i do? sure i refused to attend the theatre production of "mummy mediation" but i hardly thinks that's equivalent to mercilessly bullying a mutual friend, pretending it was an accidental, and saying that your evil online alter ego was actually me. so like one missed tea party versus years of bullying and bad mouthing and backstabbing? gee, i dont know which is worse. it really is a close call. Equal? Equal my ass.

and so i asked her, what is it that you think I did? and she's like you were organising this trip with everyone, but not anything with just me. I thought i was your best friend and you acted like I wasnt important at all. which is utter codswallop btw. i hadnt organised anything with her, because it didn't need organising. there were weeks left of summer break, and we live like 20 minutes walk from each other. i was probably going to see her multiple times a week. she was grasping at straw.

i p much told her just that, and then some. I thought her apology was empty and that she should come back if, or when, she's ever willing to acknowledge the things she did. i said i think that all of this stems from her mummy issues, and she should try going to therapy to fix that. but if she's still too scared to be honest with her mother, and if she needs to believe she didn't do an anything wrong in order to sleep at night, go for it, but im not interested in playing along with that delusion. im out. and i blocked her.

i only reached out once more, relatively recently, to give her some news, since a girl we were close friends with in junior primary died, and i thought she had a right to know.

but then i skedaddled out of there and blocked her, bc after many years of reflection, i could see that she wasn't someone i wanted in my life, and i wasnt going to allow her an opening to darken my doorstep. and like these are just the highlights. I didn't even mention how every time i wanted to vent about my mum having hurt or insulted me, she would just dismiss me and say "but i like your mum". like okay, i like bread but that doesnt mean it wouldn't fuck up a celiac. way to be insensitive and show that you're unable to look past your own experiences and insecurities to empathise with someone else. like that girl really needs help and from what i hear, she isnt looking for it in the right places, but that's her business i guess.

anyway, let me know in the comments how i wronged her? what did i do to deserve to be treated like the mud under her boots? should i have played her stupid games?

come back next week to hear about the time i told my friend i needed her to stop talking down to me and respect my personal space and she thought i meant she was a terrible person and that i hated her guts for not reciprocating my crush (which i gaslit myself into fabricating, bc previously she said she had feelings for me and i thought Welp. this is probably the only chance i will ever get in my whole life to be loved). AND she also thought we should have our mummies fix it for us.

just kidding.

in case she actually sees this (she doesn't have me blocked, and probably has my tumblr). i fully forgive her. our mental states were both fragile and fucked and i was a coward about how i brought up the things that were making me uncomfortable and i just think we both probably navigated the situation as best as we could have done at that time.

[ourladyofomega]

Trigger warning: obscene sexist language.

I woke up one morning to open my social media. I was in panic mode because a “friend” chose to out me right after going to bed. Eight hours for everyone to see exposed secrets about me. And I knew who it was. He had a thing for putting other’s personals out in the open. It’s his “freedom of speech” where it gave him license to be cute and then take it back with a “just kidding!” Not funny at all.

I didn’t appreciate him manufacturing drama. He was up to his old games again. I messaged him asking what in the fuck was he thinking? According to him, I posted something desperate (I didn’t). That prompted him to sell me another hare-brained scheme of his. Here we go again.

He had a female friend of mine who, according to him, “was back on the market”. Great choice of words. Every one of his other friends he’s tried setting me up with never clicked. Hands to the side while lazily saying “hi”. No self-care. Feeble-mindedness. Wrong vibe. Social miscues. They were instant disqualifications for me. It’s left me keeping both my silence and distance from them throughout the day, then never to see them again. Now, he wants to set me up with her.

I was absolutely reluctant to go for it, because I knew how this was going to go. I pushed back and told him multiple times that I was not interested. But, like any forceful person who automatically becomes deaf when they hear the word “no”, kept shoving harder. Then came the pitch.  

The way that he described her; truly disgusting and tasteless:

"Dude! She has two kids. Just got divorced. I’ll invite you over and introduce you to her. You both talk to each other for a bit, then go right in the bedroom with her. A little on the meaty side. She’s got some flabby tits. You both do your thing and be in-and-out in 15 minutes. 1-2-3. That's it. You’re done!"

(Sigh.) Seriously?

Not only had he used such “colorful” copy to describe her, but he also tried coercing me into sleeping with someone I had zero interest in. And for what? So he can announce a special update for all of his friends to see? Is my life that much of a spectacle to him? He can fuck right off.

I remember when I had a girlfriend in high-school and my circle of friends came over to congratulate me. Ten of them...including him. High-fives and pats on the back. Looking back at it, it was real distasteful of them to make my (later) ex- look like a victory or conquest. These days, my dating history is absolutely no one’s business.

This was who I once considered a “friend”. (There were other things he's done that made me distance myself from him.) Never in my life had I felt ashamed being associated with anyone, ever. They say having certain people in your life lowers your worth. At that point, I was embarrassed knowing him. He’s that intrusive gossiping aunt who shows up uninvited, whom no one wants anything to do with.

But, that's the type of person he was. A once-divorced American sex pig with a porn collection and an anti-feminist sentiment. A total degenerate. No wonder why his then-wife left him for a better man (after he paid in full for her lap-band surgery), divorced him, kicked him out of the house, and won custody of their kids.

The sad part? He's even worse off than before. You really don't want to know. But, every day I do a huge favor to myself. The more you're repulsed by someone, the more of an effort you'll make to never turn into them.

[acolyterose]

Tagging: mentions of @octavianrising and @legioneoin Location: Harlan, Rome, and some abandoned warehouse Timeframe: Various, childhood until now Notes: tldr; atlas kills his ex stepdad Trigger Warnings: homophobia, bullying, violence, death, and torture. Also it's done mostly in first person until the kill kill.

Curtis Waddell used to laugh every time I walked by, he’d snicker anytime that he saw me like my whole existence was some big joke to him. Him and his friends could have just left it at that because I’d go home every night and think that I was something worth laughing at. They didn’t, they never did, they always had to make it worse. 

School wasn’t a safe place for me, you’d think that the adults would have known better but small towns bred small minds and nobody blinked twice at the appearance of a bruise or split lip. If I’d come back from break soaked or if I didn’t come back at all the latter was my fault, I was making a choice not to go to class and so I had to be punished for it. Detention wasn’t much of a sentencing though because for me it helped delay the inevitable or sometimes put it off completely. Waylon Roberts, or Ryan Harper, or Stephen Taylor sometimes got bored of waiting and ended up somewhere else. That’s what I used to call a lucky day. 

The thing is we used to be friends, briefly, for a time. My dad worked with their dads in the mines but the difference between me and Curtis Waddell, and everyone else was we both lost ours in the same accident. It was more common than you’d think but there were dangers to working at those depths and the company was generous when something did happen. Most families were lucky and everyone got out okay, Curtis and I weren’t. I can’t pinpoint the time when he’d started to hate me but it happened definitively. I think now that the line between love and hate is thin for a reason; you can love someone one day and then hate them the next. Going one way was always easy, but I can’t remember a time when there was ever any back and forth. 

One weekend I was in Curtis’ basement, swapping his N64 controller every twenty minutes as we played Ocarina of Time, the bike I’d ridden to his house was tipped over and abandoned in his front yard, and then the next he was laughing as Kyle Russel shoved me over the 840 bridge into the Cumberland river. Most parts were safe to swim in, this one notoriously wasn’t, but they didn’t care, I heard them laughing as I broke the surface. There was a brief pause as another splash followed, I didn’t know if it was Curtis, Kyle, or Waylon Roberts but one of them threw my bike in after me and then shortly after the laughter continued, then receded. I’d heard what they called me after my bike went in but I never really associated it with myself, it wasn’t something anyone ever wanted to be but my ‘friends’ and I used to use it to describe that guy that lived above the movie theatre. 

I cried, and I cried, and I cried. Tears were cheap and easy and while my mom stroked my hair I kept my head in her lap. She asked me what had happened but I was too embarrassed to say it, because if I told her then she’d learn what they said and I’d be letting her in on this awful truth that I didn’t want to see. One that I felt was more taboo than anything, the worst thing any man could be was different, and apart from that one loner that lived above the movie theatre, I was completely alone in myself. I learned that I walked differently because Garrett Kennedy let me know that I looked like a fairy, I realised I had a lisp and affected the wrong syllables because Joshua McRay mocked me anytime I opened my mouth. So, I tried not to. I raised my hand less, I spoke out less often, and I tried to keep the words that burned at the back of my throat at bay.

Fathers brought their sons to the park, they went to their games, they were there in the stands even with soot covered fingers. Mine wasn’t, he couldn’t be, he would never be. I always thought that Curtis Waddell and I had a sort of understanding because of it but instead of sympathy I just heard his laughter. Slurs shouted in the halls, that word in particular uttered in contempt as he shoved me into a locker, jeering cries as he and his friends flushed filthy toilet water around my head. Pushed into cow pies or made to eat a live frog, even that was meant to be less gross than the moniker they gave me. The first bottle rocket was shot by Derick Young, I can still remember that grin on his face when he lifted his arm; I didn’t realise at the time what it was at the time until it went off and I jumped out of my skin. Another went off and another, I’d never really run from them then because they had a way of sneaking up on me. In the halls at school, in the park, at festivals and that sort of thing. I ran then, and I ran every time after that. 

I started running a lot to try and get good at it, by the end of middle school I was on the track team and my mother had me in self defence classes for a few years prior. None of it really mattered, they still caught up with me, and they still outnumbered me. Only difference was I stopped being quiet and I started getting bold, it didn’t matter how silent I made myself because inevitably they were still going to torture me. I could have not said a word all day and I’d still go home and cry myself to sleep, still listen in the late hours as my tired and overworked mother vented to her friend. How she’d call around and demand that people do something about their own damn kids, eventually she either stopped or they didn’t bother picking up their phones. I didn’t know for sure which it was and yet I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t the former. 

Video games were a quiet solace, in a fantasy world I could be the protagonist of the story and in a melee I could be the winner if I clicked the buttons in proper succession. It was always fair then, there weren’t cheat codes in a one on one fight and there was no one there to call over their friends to make it easier. Local tournaments turned into regional ones. My mother forked over the cash she saved for vacations and expenses because these were the only victories I was getting and it was one of the few times that she got to see me smile. 

I got louder and she got louder too, but she had the decency to wait for me to come to her. To tearfully admit why everyone hated me as much as they did, to apologise to her for being so different from all the other boys my age. She hadn’t meant to laugh but it helped that she did, because unlike Waylon Roberts and his friends it didn’t sting this time. There was no cruelty behind her voice, just acknowledgement because she had known just like everyone else had always known and she was so happy that I’d finally told her. She held me and I cried and because she knew how hard my life was going to be she cried too. That’s when the flag went up and the enamel pins went on, she’d wear this vest tailored to allyship everytime we went anywhere and anytime she went to work. Even if she was the only woman in Harlan that was happy to say her son was gay, eventually that ended up being enough for me. It was enough for me to say it too, to her, and to myself. 

Thomas Jackson broke my arm the summer before high school, not unintentionally or because they’d shoved me a bit too hard, but because when I was on the ground I’d lifted it to try and shield my face. That was when the police got involved and while I’d say his name and the name of every other boy there: Waylon Roberts, Derick Young, Stephen Taylor, Curtis Waddell, Ryan Harper, Garrett Kennedy, Joshua McRay, and Kyle Russell, nothing happened to them. The cop laughed, it was small, a short scoff but he put his pen down and I could see the shrug. He reminded me of the man that lived above the movie theatre, the one that didn’t make it out of Harlan alive. Not in any way that he acted but in that they would have been about the same age, I was a sharp kid, smart, especially once I’d started speaking up in class and applying myself. So I could recognise a bully when I saw one, he was just like the ones I’d named, and boys would be boys. 

I’d been hurt before, but this was different and I saw then that my mom had changed because she was going to do whatever it took to get us out. To get me out. We were both Harlan born and raised so she knew better than me what kind of life waited out in front, just like the guys that made my life hell I’d probably end up working in the mines. She said that I was good, too good for those kids that didn’t have parents willing to teach them any better. “A damn shame,” she’d say, then she’d repeat it louder, with an expletive in the middle. 

Cadmus was such a strange name, then again, so was Atlas. I think that’s why I took to him as quickly as I did because he was an outsider, a little bit like me. He had an Italian accent that sounded out of place amidst the Kentucky twang and before I realised it was happening my mother was completely taken by him. He was suave and travelling on the road for work, he came by with gifts for both me and her; the strangest thing about him though was how everything just seemed to get easier when he was around. Curtis Waddell stopped laughing when I walked by, Ryan Harper didn’t shove me in the locker anymore; one afternoon I turned a corner and managed to make my way right past the lot of them without any issue. They didn’t acknowledge me, truthfully they barely even looked at me, but one week rolled into two and all of a sudden I felt free. Then Cadmus left and it started all over again, though maybe it was worse because the first day of Freshmen year they’d found me, stripped me, and left me taped across the flagpole with that familiar word spray painted across my chest.

High school was unbearable and teenagers were quicker to violence than their adolescent selves, but that was also when it ended and something else began. Cadmus invited us to Rome, he proposed to my mother, and he enrolled me in a private school. I’d always been bright, a big fish in a small pond and now I was somewhere that challenged me. People didn’t bother me but my sharp tongue had already been formed, I’d been so used to defending myself that cutting into others felt appropriate. Better them than me, better to be predator than prey. Needless to say I wasn’t popular but I didn’t care, I didn’t need to be because at the very least I was safe. My mother was in love and she was happy, happier than I’d ever seen her. She kept the vest and she kept the flag and she kept going to the parades. She sat on every committee and she attended every event, she dragged me along too. I’d been scared and ashamed for so long, she wanted me to know that it was alright and that everything would be okay from then on. 

I believed her. I believed everything she said and loving Cadmus came easy too because he was kind and he’d done more than anyone else ever had for us. Calling him dad happened that first Christmas in Rome, it wasn’t an accident because I’d been thinking about it for a while. I had planned it like it was some secret gift I was going to give him, I offered it and he smiled and then he hugged me. Dad and father, he was also there at every stupid event with my mother and he wore those silly little pins that she gave him. I believed him. 

I had my choice of schools after that, I could have gone anywhere but I wanted to stay in Rome. I wanted to be close to my mom and my dad. That was also the year that I stopped being so repressed, I started university and any inhibition was kicked down. My first time was with someone I’d been stalking for weeks, he’d bumped into me in the hallway and before I could call him some rude name he was already helping me pick up his books. I knew him from one of my classes and I knew that he had a girlfriend, but I didn’t care because in my head we were going to be together forever. A single act of kindness and all of a sudden I was convinced that it had to be love. In the bathroom of some house party came the great romantic climax that every young homosexual man dreamt of (not), it was after that I realised he didn’t know my name because he said the wrong one after he’d finished and I was left wondering if it was supposed to hurt as much as it had. Better came when I found one of his friends that same night and opted to, rather poorly, use my throat instead. He at least remembered me as being the guy that was really good at Super Smash Brothers after I’d kicked his, and everyone else’s ass, at one of the game nights hosted on campus.

When neither of them responded to my subsequent DMs the next day I felt rejected and hurt, I cried because it was in my nature to cry everytime I projected my selfish need to be loved onto people who couldn’t and wouldn’t ever reciprocate my feelings. I’d thought then that if I kept giving myself over to people who weren’t deserving then maybe one of them would step up to the plate. I got better at interpreting what people wanted and what they liked, my candour was abrasive but I made up for it by being forward and pretending like rejection didn’t phase me. It did, it always did. It didn’t stop me from trying to find myself in any man that would spare me a shred of kindness, or any unworthy guy that I saw fit to welcome into my body. I was popular both on campus and off but not for any reason that I was particularly proud of, my mom always laughed when I told her and insisted that I be safe. That I do whatever I have to do to be happy. She’d make a joke at my expense but when she did it it felt good, natural, and I found I didn’t mind it so much when it came from a place of kindness. 

My mother got sick that year, very sick, very quickly, and overnight Cadmus was gone. The name was a fake one, the police had never heard of him, and while my mother sat with a monitor on her arm a doctor pulled me aside and turned everything upside down. They were breaking a law by telling me, some ancient creed that I was yet to wrap my mind around that kept humans like me in the dark. Humans like my mother, a woman that had been made the victim of a witch’s spell. A witch who’d funnelled away her soul and left her an empty shell. It wasn’t meant to be long but all this came with a cost, a cost that meant I had to leave school, and a cost that meant I had to pick up the slack. It hadn’t been quick, in fact my mother suffered in her bedroom for years. Nurses, medications, constant pain, and her dignity stripped away as she lost control of everything from her bowels to her own breathing. Not-so-selfishly I wished she had died quickly, I wished that the doctor was right and it would have been over in a month or two because I found it hard to remember her red hair in the sunlight and that ridiculous vest. Instead I saw how she had thinned and paled, how her hair grew sparse and her eyes sunk low. I remembered her ragged breathing more than the deep laughter that she was best known for. I remembered her sickness, not her health, and I remembered the man that did this to her. 

When she died I felt myself take in a breath and I’ve been holding it ever since. 

Present Day

The basement was dank, it smelled of earth and iron. Mildew crept along the walls of the concrete foundation below the abandoned factory. There was nothing but the drip of water against old pipes and the distant scurrying of rodents scratching at the walls. Metal grinding against metal as the chains that bound the witch rubbed against one another. Atlas had Eoin to thank for this, a surprise text, a brief meeting, and at the druid’s insistence he’d been left alone with the witch who’d once gone by Cadmus. 

Light filtered through the grimy windows as specks of dust glowed within the golden hue of the morning sun. Blood lined what Atlas remembered as handsome features, a swollen eye obscured what the druid had once known, but at Atlas’ core he knew who this was. He could tell by the line of Cadmus’ jaw and the slope of his nose, the cant of his brow and the soft groans that fell from his unconscious frame. This was him, this was the bastard that had killed his mother. The witch that tricked them and deceived them, the man that was responsible for destroying the one person who’d always been in Atlas’ corner.

People said that vengeance didn’t make you feel better, there were quotes about the need for two graves, for the emptiness it left behind, and for how it was so much better to choose forgiveness instead. That wasn’t Atlas’ experience, killing Cadmus didn’t hollow him out, it just felt good. Dawn’s light faded to dusk’s twilight and the witch’s screams never relented, they felt good, better than Atlas would have thought possible. He remembered every night he’d gone to bed with tears in his eyes and every night that his mother had sat up stroking his hair, he remembered her ragged breaths and the fits that came to follow any laughter. He remembered the first time she’d put on that stupid vest and waved around those shiny enamel pins, and he remembered packing them all away and trying to decide what to do with her leftover medication. He remembered how hard he had to work to stay afloat and remembered what it felt like to be reborn in flames.

Bit by bit and nerve by nerve Atlas let himself be transformed. His minted azure flames that exposed the truth at the core of the witch’s being: a flailing coward who emptied his bowels over a concrete floor while he begged for his life. Somehow Atlas had expected more, he expected the slurs and the mockery that Cadmus started with, but the begging felt unnecessary. First the witch pleaded for him to stop, then he begged for death. It was hours before the sun came up when Cadmus stopped pleading entirely, nerves exposed and dead, his mind seemed to be doing whatever it could to protect him. By dawn Atlas got tired of torturing burnt meat, following Cadmus’ death rattle, Atlas reduced whatever remained of the witch to ash.

He was glad it was over though, the adrenaline had left a long time ago and he felt tired now. His hands were bloodied and burnt, they reminded him of Knossos and that feeling of being so broken he couldn’t recognize himself. For Atlas, this was different, because he’d come a long way from the pathetic cat that was still learning how to sharpen his claws. When it was over the druid caught his reflection in the grimy window. He didn’t recognize himself anymore, this person that he’d started towards ever since he stood over his mother’s slab in the funeral home. 

That was the thing about cremation though, they made you look at the body one last time before they turned it to ash.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Find the Words

Alright so yeah I've been tagged and well I'm a sucker for tumblr tag games so here it is lol

tagged by: @typicalopposite

rules: find your given words in your WIPs and post a snippet containing the words, then tag others with their own sets of words :)

my words: laugh, tomorrow, wonder

I only two of these words in my WIPs that have more than just a few bits written - I was certain they would have all been there but guess not (at least not in fic)

I had them both 3 times in my College AU so I'm gonna cheat and give them all so I don't hafta choose lol (they're not too angst-y lol)

laugh

Alex’s laugh in response makes Henry’s ever-present butterflies flutter, and he really must get them in some semblance soon before he makes an utter buffoon of himself. Well, more than he already has in the years he’s had this sadly unrequited crush on his kind-of-friend-by-association who is so straight Henry has not even an infinitesimal chance.

Henry takes hold of Alex’s hands and holds them between the two of them. He smiles reassuringly across the space between them and takes a deep breath. “Well, I guess we both had a friend plan – too bad neither of us was smart enough to communicate it.” The laugh that escapes Alex surprises them both. “I think maybe we’re already there though, if you can forgive me sequestering myself away, in my usual avoidance technique. I will make every effort to not do that the next time I get too in my head. It’s always been the way I dealt when things got hard or more than I knew how to deal with. I will admit I’ve had feelings for you for the last two years or so – I always told myself it was just a crush I’d get over but this year I realized that wasn’t the case anymore – "

-this one is from Alex's tales from the college AU (which is a separate doc - so they didn't all come from the same one lol)

The laugh escapes Alex before he can catch it, and he smiles across the table, realizing that he didn’t mess this all up after all. He reaches across the table and grabs Henry’s hand in his, “Just remember who said it first, sweetheart.”

wonder

(apparently I had plenty of variations of this word but these were the only 3 just 'wonder')

“Good morning, Alex. I’m certain I’ve repeatedly asked you to stop with the ‘your majesty’ thing, and if you need to sit closer to see, you really should. Just because I felt like a change doesn't mean you must suffer.” Henry swore he had heard a muttered, “I know nothing but suffering,” but there was no indication that Alex had spoken when he glanced his way. That, of course, was his downfall, the one thing Henry knew he needed to avoid had already happened, and this time, it was Alex’s damn eyelashes that were driving him to distraction. Luckily, the professor came in to start class, forcing him to focus on something other than Alex and the things, the dirty, dirty things he wanted to do to him. Somehow, he made it through class without embarrassing himself, even when Alex got into a verbal sparring match with one of their classmates about how poetry could be seen in many political officeholders' speeches. Watching Alex debate something linked to a topic he cared so wholeheartedly about generally made Henry weak in the knees. The passion Alex displayed often made him wonder what it would be like to have even a fraction of that passion on him, in a way that was less arguing a point and more driving him to the brink over and over again until they both expired from the exhaustion that only came from a mind-blowing orgasm.

Pez turns towards him, so Henry is forced to look at him as he speaks, “I mean, how is it that the two of you spent over a month and a half practically living in each other’s pockets, and you still have no idea how that boy feels about you. Sometimes I wonder how you can be so completely daft when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“It felt like you hated me last year the way you took every moment to be a right prat. When we returned this year, it seemed like whatever I had done to make you hate me didn’t matter anymore. Then, when you came that first night to the library, and we continued to meet up here, I started to wonder if we could actually be friends. I had this plan to become your friend and –“

so now my turn to tag -

@adreamareads your 3 words are: bite, park, and show.

[autumnalwalker]

Character snippet tag

Thank you for the tag, @druidx.

Passing the tag to @writernopal, @imbrisvastatio, @alnaperera, @floweryprosegarden, @ryns-ramblings, and an open tag for anyone else who wants it.

Rules: pick an OC and post a snippet from their viewpoint.

So, this one's perhaps a little bit of a spoiler since it comes from near the very end of @thearchivistsjournal, but it's one of the few times in there that we get to hear the words of anyone other than the titular Archivist. To read the scene being described here from the Archivist's point of view, see Day 12. For Lin's description of meeting the Archivist for the first time, keep reading below the cut:

I actually made a point of avoiding you when you first washed up, especially after I heard you were going to be Archivist.  I still missed the old man and had a lot of tangled up feelings with all my good memories of the archive being tainted by sadness over his loss.  But I couldn’t avoid the place forever and I missed it as much as I did him, so I finally got my courage together and made myself go down there.

I was so nervous about how it was going to go, seeing someone else in his place, watching over our books, intruding in my place to hide from the world.  But then I got down the stairs and you looked ridiculous.  I know I should say I’m sorry for laughing like I did, but I’m still not.  I don’t mean that in a mean way though.  Seeing you there, looking nothing like him but drowning in his clothes like you were his kid that had gotten into his closet and surrounded by an utter mess was just the right kind of silly to get rid of those nerves and make me feel better about, well, a lot of things really.  I know you were embarrassed but please don’t be when you look back on that.  Under the exact context that you couldn’t have known, I don’t think you could have made a better first impression.

And I’ll admit, seeing all the books out of place and hearing they were going to be reorganized felt wrong at first.  The archive means a lot to me, and who were you to change something so important?  But then as you were talking you just got so into it.  Talking so fast you were stumbling over yourself and repeating things but smiling the whole time.  Here was someone else who really cared.  I was afraid you wouldn’t.  

As we got to talking and while I settled back into my old reading spot I started thinking maybe rearranging everything wasn’t so bad.  It was a fresh start.  A way for the archive to keep what it’s always meant to me without reminding me of what I’d lost.

From there, it wasn’t hard to start thinking of you as a fresh start.  Someone who didn’t have any prior history or associations with me to poison the present.  Someone I could do things right with.

You know I’ve drifted away from all my other old friends.  Some of the reasons I’ve told you, some I think you’ve figured out, and some you probably have an idea of now after all that other stuff I wrote.  I’ve had my problems in the past.  Still do.  But I’ve gotten better.  And I’m still getting better.

I know it was never your intention, but thank you for giving me the opportunity to try being a good friend again.  For being any kind of friend again.  I think we both know you can be alone without being lonely, just like you can be with others and still be lonely.  I was definitely the latter for a long time.  Longer than I realized, and you were my first step to getting out of that.  

[thedeadpoetprose]

The bigot

I met a man on New Year's Eve. He was smooth talking, good looking, he flattered me endlessly. I knew he was playing a game, but part of him looked at me, like I was magic, twirling and entrancing. He was 20 years older than myself. For the record, I am 30.

We spoke all week and agreed I'd visit him on the Saturday. He would provide food and wine, and we would sleep together. Friends with benefits.

On the Friday he added me on Facebook. I quickly discovered a stream of bigotry and bitter frenetic rants. I felt a deep sense of disappointment and anger.

Yet the Saturday came around, and I sat in the taxi on my way to him questioning my morals and my actions. Was I really that desperate for sex, I'd sleep with someone so awful? I thought perhaps I wouldn't. Maybe I'd confront him, we would argue, and I'd leave. Perhaps I was putting myself in danger? What if he hit me, or worse, for what could a man do alone to a young woman In his house? Yet, I continued.

Instead, we talked for hours. Less about his views, but more so of his life, his ups, downs and his passions. An interaction occurred, which led to him showing me one of his favorite video games. I watched intently as this calloused abrasive man, became animated and excited. He giggled and moved with juvenility as he explained to me his winning tactics, giddy and carefree until he caught my gaze.

His shoulders slumped and his head bowed down, he placed the controller on the floor as he glanced downwards. "I'm sorry, this is really embarrassing, I've invited a beautiful young woman over and I'm being weird. I'm boring you. I'm really Sorry"

I playfully pushed his arm and told him not to be daft, and that I was familiar with the game as my dad had taught me. And that sometime I'd happily play it with him. His face settled into a state of contemplating confusion, to which he silently agreed "would you really? Well I'd really like that"

Perhaps it was the wine, or something else entirely but I moved across him to straddle his lap, I decided I'd be intimate with him after all.

After a period of antics of which I will spare the details, we decided to take a break. We both lit up a smoke and drank more wine, laughed and chatted some more.

Mid conversation he paused, he took an apprehensive swallow of wine, looked at me quizzically and said, "if it's alright, could we cuddle? For a moment I'd like to just be close with you" I was amused and taken back by his request. But I slunk down into the covers with him and intertwined myself into him. We talked quietly and he gently twirled my hair. I looked up to him and met his gaze, he told me I was beautiful and that he'd quite like me to be the first thing he saw in the mornings. I studied his eyes and noticed he looked at me with the same adoration as when we first met, but I saw something I didn't that night, I saw his sadness, and I couldn't help but wonder what he saw in mine.

Slowly we embraced again and continued with our intimacy. Once all was said and done, he collapsed down beside me and struggled into my chest. I kissed his forehead and cradled him like an angel harbouring a damaged soul, and he muttered something about feeling blissful and at ease. I felt my golden aura consume his darkest corners. And we lay still for a while.

I called a taxi and left.

The next day I felt angry with myself. Angry that I had met this man's child spirit and felt empathy. My friends were angry that I would associate with someone nasty like him. But try as I might they wouldn't understand. I ranted about how I wasn't going to fix him, and that he was an idiot. It didn't take long for him to cross the line and cause upset amongst my friends and I angrily told him to leave me be.

A few days later he contacted me and asked if I would meet him for an afternoon tipple and to talk things over. I agreed and over a few drinks we laughed for hours, found common ground and he enthused more about his hobbies like an excited child.

We kissed at the bus stop and he asked me, if for now, slowly but surely, I could be his, and he could be mine.

Oddly, I agreed and we made afternoon plans for the following week, and the weekend after I'll spend the night again.

[userjohndeacon]

it's very rare i get personal on this site but i'm gonna rant for a sec, feel free to ignore (this is a journalising exercise more than anything).

in august of 2021 my dad was diagnosed with cancer. he was treated at one of the top cancer centers in the US, and at the end of 2021 my mom actually ran in their 5k event to raise money for the center. she then signed my dad, my sister, and me up to run in 2022's 5k.

i hated running. so i was not happy about it at first. but i love my dad and wanted to be a team player, so i said fuck it. since i was pretty out of shape, i signed up for a gym to help get my stamina up. (plus i found out that they weren't lying when they said working out makes you feel better physically and mentally.)

over the next six months i went to this gym 3-5 times a week. i was in shape, i felt great, my skin was clear, i slept better, it was amazing. i even learned to love running. i became friends with all of the staff as well as some of the other members. eventually i started hanging out with them outside of the gym and suddenly i had an entire new friend group.

about a month before the 5k, i mentioned it offhand to one of my friends who was a coach at the gym. she immediately volunteered to run a virtual 5k session at the gym since the actual 5k was in a different state. she organized it entirely and also collected donations.

the 5k was a success, and between my family and friends and the virtual session at the gym, we raised over $6k for my dad's cancer center.

however immediately around the 5k, my dad's health took a turn for the worse. and about three weeks after the 5k, he peacefully passed away in hospice, with my mom, my sister, and me at his side.

i paused my gym membership due to traveling a lot, especially with the holidays. one month pause turned into two which turn into three...

not one person from the gym reached out. not even the friend who organized the virtual 5k. they knew he had passed. but i got radio silence.

i felt pretty betrayed. folks i felt had become my close friends were perfectly fine with me disappearing without a trace. sure, i could have been the one to reach out. but grief is weird.

eventually last month i began to reconnect with some of my gym friends. they told me they missed me and begged me to come back. i eventually worked through my hurt feelings and forgave them. i started to consider going back.

the problem was it had been five months. and grief takes a toll. i have put on 20 pounds. i had to buy all new clothes. i have an extremely toxic relationship with my body right now.

also, i associated that gym with my dad so much. the reason i joined was to train for the 5k. $2k of the $6k we raised came from the virtual session my friend had run at the gym. it was hard to separate my dad from that gym.

going back was daunting. i feared how far i had backslid in terms of my fitness. i feared other members remembering me and judging my appearance. i feared folks asking about my dad. i feared getting to the gym and having an emotional reaction and embarrassing myself.

i had a lot of barriers to overcome.

but i just booked my first session back for this upcoming tuesday.

i'm extremely nervous. but i'm proud of myself for taking the plunge. i know come wednesday i'll likely be tired and sore but it's just one step to getting back to where i want to be.

and i know my dad is rolling his eyes at how dramatic i'm being 😆

[xoxobellebelle]

My life now is so much different than it was just a short while. I never really gave too many posts about anything for a real good chunk of time. I got out of that relationship with that POS that guilted me into dating him at all. It ended with me getting a restraining order finalized on him. If I could just make him understand how much I never loved him, I so would.

I have been in a relationship and living with my current boyfriend for quite awhile now. If the bro that I won’t even call my ex, because I tried to get away from and end things with for almost the entire time, and only started dating him cuz I felt pressure could understand how my current relationship is, he’d fully be able to comprehend how much I did not want to be with him, I never loved him, and I didn’t act like myself when I love someone

With shit Head, he was not allowed to sleep in my bed with me, and say for some reason he did, I would not let him touch me at all, and if he did he would get booted. He slept in the other room cuz I didn’t wanna see him or be near him. Currently, I cannot sleep without my boyfriend. I even have a hard time taking naps without him and I’m on seroquel and lithium so I feel like that’s saying something if I still can’t sleep if he’s not there. Even if I wake up in a pool of sweat from cuddling, I don’t mind at all and the sweat is no big thing, and I don’t move away from him.

With the last dude, he wasn’t allowed to kiss me without asking and i would only say yes maybe once a week. Additionally, if he wanted to hug me, he had to ask, and I told him if I pat his back to immediately let go, cuz I didn’t even wanna give him the dignity of me speaking to him. Currently, if my boyfriend kisses me when I don’t expect it, I can’t stop smiling for awhile after. I have never once even tried to cut a hug short.

Last dude’s smell made me anxious and angry. If anything around me smelled like him I would wash it, even while we were living together. To be fair, he would wear the same underwear for months in end, and would only shower every two weeks, and thought an ungodly layer of cologne would count as hygiene, so even if there wasn’t an association to that smell with SA and physical abuse and what not, anyone would be upset by the smell. But currently, my boyfriends smell is one of the most comforting things in my world. Even when he hasn’t put on deodorant yet in the morning and we were both super sweaty, I still think he smells really good.

Before, I would essentially never allow other dude cuddle with me. I would not allow it. I did not want him near me. If we were watching a movie, he had to sit on a different seat. If he was sitting by me and for some reason I gave in to cuddling with him, I could tolerate for like three minutes max. Currently, my boyfriend and I are always laying on each other if we’re in the same room. There’s almost never a time where if we’re chilling where at least his legs are over mine or visa versa, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Homie before, I avoided posting any pictures of us or him or tell people about him, because I was so embarrassed by him. If I was going to hangout with a friend I would never let them come over to our apartment cuz he was there, and I wanted a break from him, and didn’t want my friends to see him/talk to them. I also would never ever allow him to hold my hand, hug me, or kiss me if we were in public, even if no one was around. My boyfriend however, I am so happy when he posts pictures of us and he tags me so you can see it on my profile. Holding my boyfriends hand in public makes me feel so special, cuz people can see someone as beautiful and wonderful and kind and amazing as him sees worth in me. I generally love PDA (nothing rude tho), so being absolutely 100% not okay with it with the POS should’ve been a dead five away.

Previously, I would go as I could without having sex with the guy. If I could stretch it to three weeks or a whole month I would. Not that it mattered to him if I said no, but I would hold off and dance around the subject as much as I could. I never once initiated anything, genuinely not one time. With my current boyfriend, (this may be tmi , but it’s my tumblr so cry me a river) I can’t get enough of him. I always tell him I love him during as well.

My cats are definitely huge signs that things are different. My cats HATED gross bro. HATED. They would run away if he came near them, they were always trying to cower in my lap, they would always get angry if he pet them, they would hide a lot, all of the things. My boyfriend, the cats are obsessed with him. They get antsy and start misbehaving if he is gone too long. If it’s around the time he gets off work, my cat poppy will sit by the door and meow. When he gets home, she follows him and jumps on the bed to give him head butts.

And finally, time. I hated spending time with previous dude. I always tried to limit my interactions with him as much as possible even when we were living alone together. I stayed in my room, by myself as much as I could. I even had designated ‘leave me alone’ times throughout the day. My boyfriend, on the other hand, were not around each other to the amount that it’s toxic (we live together so that’s an excuse to always spend my time near him tho) I want him around as much as possible. I wanna do everything with him. I want him to keep me company for everything, I want him to come with me to everywhere I go. I would have never dared let guy from before come to a concert or a rave with me, cuz those are my happy places, and I didn’t want him to ruin some of my only chances to smile. My boyfriend now, gets dragged to all of the raves with me. Anywhere I go will always be better if he’s there too.

Life is pretty good right now. I wish the guy before could understand I was not there because I wanted to be. He has no upper hand on me. None whatsoever. He was not a loss to me in the slightest. Getting away from him was not a loss. If he could see how my current relationship is, he would be able to grasp that his absence has been nothing but healing for me, and i never once cried from missing him (probably because there was no missing happening)

[tartrazeen]

I swear I love the friendship between Angus and Rohan. Angus is my favourite character, and Rohan's okay as an extension of Angus (I tried to see if I had any interest in Rohan away from Angus, but the best I could do was, "I'm off on my own adventure, all by myself! Oh boy, I can't wait to come back and tell Angus what happens - that's my whole motivation for going!" So. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ He's forever relegated to being a package deal).

... But I also love proving how unbreakable their friendship is by making them fight until they borderline break up. 🥺👉👈

I don't know why that's so fascinating to me. I get that I love making Angus miserable for my own entertainment, which - in my defence - is the canon treatment of him on the show. But Rohan's got so many boring "ooh i have to save the kingdom" problems that he's only fun when I make him miserable over personal stuff - stuff from his old life.

And what's Rohan's old life? Living in a hut with Angus and being Cathbad's invisible, peasant apprentice. By the end of the show, he's gotten rid of that and doused himself in ancient prophecies, legendary fame, respect, power, a place in the king's court, a mysterious and long lost royal family, becoming popular at last (I still maintain the guy had zero other friends), and so actively embracing his role as Draganta that you'd think the biggest reminder of who he once was would be... well, an embarrassing reminder.

But Angus has never been embarassing to Rohan. In a lot of episodes, Rohan's really proud of him. After Angus says he sees gold in a field, Rohan's practically bragging about how good Angus is at spotting gold anywhere, and he's all happy when he learns how to steal a buckler from Torc like Angus taught him. The closest he gets to being embarrassed by Angus is, I think, when Angus is goofing off while Rohan's trying to learn how that fancy duel against Lugad is gonna work. (Rohan got into that situation by being a dumbass though, and I don't think he actually says anything. It's Cathbad who shuts it down, so it's Cathbad's fault uwu)

After that, maybe during the episode with the wish, where Rohan starts thinking Angus can't be trusted to make a 'good' wish on his own? And he's still not embarrassed - he's concerned. Rohan goes, "We need to help Angus do the best he can 🤔," not "Ooh, I can't be associated with this guy 😬."

So that friendship, that pride in who Angus is, the comfortable assumption that Angus'll be in Rohan's old and new life (and the insistence on it in the early episode where they all get enchanted and start attacking each other, and Rohan's like, "nooo i need my bestie 🥺 angus snap out of it 🥺🥺") is just a big Chef's Kiss. I love that he treats Angus like a walking safety net. Rohan's sad? Sick? Worried? Nervous? Scared? Awkward? Ass-kicked-by-Garrett? About to be dragon-mauled? Bored? Just basically unhappy in any way that Rohan can't instantly solve on his own? There's Angus 💖

Let's ruin it! 😃

Lately, I've been trying to make a fight where it's Angus who starts it, but it still comes back to being Rohan's fault anyway. 😆 Why? Blorbo privileges. Sorry, Rohan. But yeah, I want Angus getting his hands emotionally dirty instead of Rohan just being way too defensive and lashing out over something again. I adore the bull-in-a-china-shop energy, but let's let the angst lead us for once.

I'm picturing the build-up in the context of how they probably grew up: Rohan helping with the obvious chores and doing what he was told, but Angus - being a whole year older - actually learning what they had to do.

It's still Angus, so I'm not thinking he learned how to magically plan in advance. But with how resourceful he is, he'd absolutely figure out solutions to whatever mess they were in - ones neither of them saw coming 'cause they're both a little dumb. Like if winter "snuck up" on them, so Angus has to find where some Irish Squirrels© are nesting - and also who in a village did stock up, and what he can take from that stock while he's sent Rohan off in the other direction to innocently hunt/discover if Ireland even has squirrels. Or if their clothes start to wear or rip or get outgrown, and it's Angus who has to learn how to stitch them back together or "borrow" fabric from somewhere else to lengthen everything.

They've always had a Trial and Error dynamic between them. But Angus is doing the trial and error, stumbling through it after they've already stumbled into it, and Rohan's safely learning from those mistakes on the back of Angus' examples. It's adorable in how totally bullshit it is, because even when Rohan's calling Angus dumb (affectionate), we damn well know Rohan only didn't do whatever stupid thing Angus did because Angus did it first. When there's no hindsight available, Rohan's sprinting to do that dumb thing himself ("Yay, a fancy duel! I accept, Lugad! What do you mean it's a trap?").

So if winter sneaks up one year, Rohan wouldn't know what to do. Angus would bail them out by thinking quickly, and then instantly forget about it once it was spring again. It'd be up to Rohan to remember the next year that winter is gonna screw them over for food, remind Angus, who'll go, "Oh yeah! Okay, well, here's the plan." And then the year after that, Angus is going to forget aaaall about it again, and Rohan will remember and say, "Angus, it's time to do the food plan for winter."

After a while, it'd get to be enough of a yearly routine that someone on the outside could say, "Wow, Rohan. You're so responsible. You're always taking care of that lazy friend of yours."

(i think i shared my other version of this before, the one where rohan doesn't know angus told those lies yet, and he has to deal with the guilt of letting angus making that choice on his own even though angus was also a kid. but for this scenario, i want rohan being confidently proud of his friend - and confidently proud of them being at a place in life where angus can sit around and wait for rohan to remember that oops they're gonna starve again if they don't start prepping for winter right now. i am equally obsessed with the idea of rohan trying to pay angus back for everything he did to care for them as children, by having rohan try to provide for them now as adults :3 hence my headcanon that rohan got his own hut to make sure angus had a place to stay, since rohan could've stayed with cathbad a long while yet. and that angus doesn't know that and thinks of himself as a squatter in rohan's hut :'))

I like to imagine Rohan having Angus' back against comments like that, where he either tells them, "It's not like that," or gets into a long explanation of how Angus saved them both from death's door during their first winter. I see him doing that a lot with Cathbad, who'd be losing his mind trying to understand what's to gain from having Angus around.

"Well," Rohan says, "Angus was the one who'd lie and say he already ate just so I'd eat the last scraps of food we had, because he knew there wasn't enough to share and wanted me to be the one not to starve. So if I have to be the one who remembers winter comes every year, I'll do that."

So - same concept when we're talking about their clothes: growing "snuck up" on them, and so did "roughhousing and being tiny terrors leads to ripping your clothes." Angus learns how to patch and sew, getting really good at it for how often that has to happen, but Rohan's the one who puts the pieces together on, "Hm. These clothes keep not-fitting... I think we're growing, Angus 🤔" and "My shirt feels thin at the elbows 🤔 I think it's getting a hole in it, maybe?"

In other words, Rohan's the one picking up on the pattern again. Here, the answer's just 'Hand Angus clothes, get patched clothes back,' which is why Angus is the one who's always doing it (note: Rohan would know how to sew, he can't possibly not know, if not out of necessity then at least out of curiosity, but it's definitely gonna be an Angus job. Angus - our little pickpocket - is better with his hands anyway, and I am obsessed with the idea of Rohan coming to visit him in jail one day and uhhhhhhhh shoving a ripped shirt through the bars like, "If you're not busy... 🙂" And I think Angus would find that hilariously cheeky and also be happy he's got a way to feel useful as a guest in Rohan's hut 🥲). And Rohan might even be the one to say, "We should just make a new shirt instead of patching this one up all the time," and that'd lead Angus to figure out how to find/borrow/make one.

Injuries too, definitely. With all the fun encounters Angus has with guards and people who've caught him mid-theft, I picture him getting hurt worse when he does get hurt, but Rohan jumping off of walls and picking fights and falling out of trees and getting rocks thrown at him (by request) waaaaay more often. Angus is the one reacting again, learning how to fix the part where Rohan's shoulder isn't in its shoulder-hole anymore, and learning which powders un-poison that kid when Cathbad's away for a few days and Rohan was pretty sure he'd learned to do a 'proper' spell.

... Rohan does not learn the pattern for this one. 😝 He's chaos, Angus is chaos, but Angus at least starts to get a spidey-sense for when Rohan's next move is being driven by overt overconfidence. It's the same in the show: Angus goes along with dumb plans, but he starts to voice his concern when Rohan seems eeriely sure they don't need a plan at all (see: "let's just go to the dragon first" and "i'll just leave angus tied up, garrett won't take too long to beat").

Honestly, that fight in Friends For Life could've half-been because Rohan's praised for being lucky he stayed behind and lucky he was able to fight those Temrans on his own. That luck being validated as a tactical choice was gonna go straight to his head and have him charge into a crowd twice as big next time - and lose. (Obviously the show wasn't saying all that, but it fits in pretty nicely uwu)

Dinner - and this is the last example before the actual scenes - would be the same idea. Angus and Rohan would get hungry, not have a plan, Angus would bail them out that night, and Rohan would remember they have to actually eat every day. I think they'd both learn to cook, actually. With no plan, Angus is gonna forget every night, and if he's wandered off for too long, he might not get back in time to feed widdle Rohan 🥺 So Rohan might learn in the out-of-necessity way.

But Angus likes things that are actually good, and he's comfy eating that mystery stew swearing it's good. Either of them mentioning that what they're eating doesn't taste nice would get Angus to - again - bail them out of it. He'd learn to cook intentionally, maybe even bake things over the fire, and when he goes out to hunt or forage, he's specifically looking for ingredients in a meal.

Rohan seems more like a guy who'd go, "Hey, I shot this rabbit. Can you do anything with it?" and Angus would do culinary improv, otherwise Rohan would skin it and cook it and have them eat it totally plain.

... Cleaning (LAST one). I do think Angus likes to be clean, or at least he likes the luxury of hot baths. But - like, we've seen him mix powders around. He makes lots of mess. So I'm not envisioning someone who dusts and mops and has a whole Tidy Up Day.

But! Angus does draw maps to loot he's hidden. And he crawls and climbs and navigates his way through that castle. And the only times he's been pissed about the state of the hut, it was for two decently similar things:

"I'm leaving. 😤 Because I'm enchanted and angry. 😤😤 Why can't I find any of my stuff around the hut?!"

"Of course you couldn't find your stupid cup in here. 😤 This stupid hut is a pig sty. 😤😤"

In other words, Angus likes knowing where everything is. He's not tidy, he's organized. Rohan? Apparently he's neither, assuming Cathbad was telling the truth about Rohan being a crappy apprentice.

So what's the 'problem' Angus would have to bail them out of?

On one end, probably Rohan taking things, moving them, not putting them back, and then him or Angus getting pissed when they can't find it - even though Angus knows exactly where it was supposed to be.

On the other and more immediate end, with Angus being a sneaky guy, he's definitely tried to creep quietly back into the hut at night, tripped, nearly broken his neck, and then started swearing so loud that he woke Rohan and the rest of the village up.

I get the vibe that Angus has tried setting things in order a few times before, and Rohan has given it his best effort to follow the plan... but forgot how it was supposed to be set up. Or forgotten which things were his and which were just for Angus (and which things were stolen), until Angus finally had to hide things outside of the hut and drew all those maps to keep himself organized... until others caught onto that, and he was forced to keep the really important stuff in the hut again - away from Rohan somehow.

Personally, I like to think that Angus has a highly acute way of organizing everything, knows exactly where to put it, and can find all of it at a moment's notice - but he's a thief, so he's gotten used to putting things where people wouldn't normally look, and he's a squirrel (do they have squirrels in Ireland?!), so it looks like he's just putting random shit everywhere. Like how he's looking for his stuff under Rohan's cot? That's on purpose. "They would never check his bed." And there's that idea I had that he's always reverse-pickpocketing things onto Rohan as his 'extra pockets'. 😆

But that leads to Angus being the one who knows where stuff is. Would not be surprised - would be delighted - if he's the one doing inventory on Cathbad's stuff to keep Rohan from screwing it up, and if Cathbad's had to reluctantly ask Angus at least once if he's seen such-and-such powders the last time he was rifling through Cathbad's things. But certainly any time Rohan needs something that's not obviously in plain sight - or even if it is but he's just not sure if it's 'safe' - he shouts for Angus to tell him where it is. Rohan is Angus' extra pockets, and Angus is Rohan's extra memory (you know, the guy who famously gets distracted by gold and girls all the time).

So that's how they grew up! That's their dynamic. Angus reacts and problem-solves, Rohan recognizes and repeats. Angus feels like he's earning his keep around here, and Rohan feels like Angus finally stopped thinking he has to earn anything (lol. Rofl, even).

Bring in Rohan's new life. Post-canon. Where is he?

Confidently embodying Draganta

About to learn what it's like to be a prince

Realizing he has a real mom and a real brother (feelings towards them are irrelevant) and maybe even a real dad too

Surrounded by royal friends

Eating at the king's table, and even telling others to get food and say Rohan sent them (like he did with Human!Aideen)

Free access to Cathbad's chamber

Experience leading Kells' army and telling everyone to stand down

It's impressive. Especially when that all happened because he yelled at the king lmao

What I'm picturing is that Rohan starts feeling welcomed by the others. He's Kells' champion, he's genuinely friends with the princess, so everyone expects him to be at the castle.

Deirdre and occasionally Ivar and Garrett like to talk about things royalty is expected to do - sometimes smugly. But from one royal to another royal, it's meant to be reassuring and almost ironically smug. It's something non-royals wouldn't get. After a while, Rohan (who's Maeve's son) would have one of them point out that he is a prince. Not in a flashy way, because it's not like they'd expect him to change overnight, but they'd certain start giving him advice and reassurances.

For example:

"Rohan, your shirt's ripped."

"Is it? Oh. I'll have Angus take a look at it later."

"Don't be ridiculous. We have a seamstress right here."

"... You want your seamstress to mend my shirt?"

"She'll only need a moment. You're a prince; you shouldn't be walking around with holes in your shirt."

"... Oh."

"In fact, you could do with a new shirt altogether."

"Oh, that isn't necess-"

"Call it a gift. It's a token to thank you for... well... banishing your mother. :/"

":/ I banished my mother and all I get is a shirt?"

"A nice one. 😌"

"Oh. Well, thank you. :)"

"If you have any other holes in your clothes, you can bring them over too."

"Wow. :) Well. Thank you, Deirdre."

"Of course. 😌"

Normal conversation, right? Deirdre's being nice, and only trying to get Rohan to accept her kindness by invoking the Royalty Rationalization: where you're supposed to let servants do shit for you because that's the natural order of being royalty, dw about it.

And Rohan, being new to this, would find it worth telling Angus about (SEE? He can't have any solo adventures without them involving Angus somehow 😭). He might laugh about it, and outright say, "Deirdre said I could because I'm a prince."

Angus could say, "That's clever, 'cause I was gonna ask when they'd do mine."

You know. Subconsciously noting the subtle class divide that's never previously existed. It's not enough for either of them to know it's what happened, but the words have been spoken out loud.

Here's where things deviate from usual Mean Rohan Is Mean and Does Not Appreciate How Much Angus Sacrifices for Him scenario. Normally, I'd be like, "Rohan laughs it off and they never bring it up again. It's just some unspoken privilege for Rohan now, and it doesn't bother Angus in isolation, but it's not gonna be in isolation for long."

We're not doing that. I'm bored with that. Asshole/Thoughtless!Rohan is so 2023, I just decided.

Instead, Rohan... kinda goes to bed that night thinking about this. He thinks it's nice Deirdre offered, and he's not planning to have it happen all the time. He might be a prince, but he didn't grow up as one. It'd be weird to start acting like it now. But... since Deirdre is offering, maybe he'll take her up on it.

And it's a gift, right? To thank him?

It's like the 6th century or something - these people don't have giant closets, and I only remember Rohan having three or four outfits: the red shirt with the chainmail, the yellow shirt and the... tunic thing he has at the beginning, and I think he has a blue shirt at one point. Not a lot of stuff. So bringing like six articles of clothing isn't a huge deal.

But he's wondering if he could bring - maybe... ten articles. Maybe. If that's too much, then maybe only eight.

Because he's not the only one with holes in his stuff, and Angus has been stitching both their clothes for years. It'd be a nice surprise, wouldn't it? Getting some of his things stitched too?

He finds Deirdre the next morning and asks (in that very polite, very demure way he has of asking sometimes) if it'd be too much trouble for him to bring some of Angus' things as a well. As a double-gift, if that's all right. Rohan defeated Maeve but technically Angus was the one who flew Maeve to wherever she is now, and he'll just keep rambling his way into why it would make sense until Deirdre finally cuts him off and says, "Rohan, it's fine. Of course you can. You're both welcome to anything we have. He's a knight too, and we're friends. :)"

And Rohan's obviously still thinking as a peasant, because he reflexively assumes that obviously he's not welcome to anything they have. He's a guest in the castle. But he'll accept the gift. After all, he's a prince, and he can't have holes in his shirt, right? :D

He gets his clothes sewn up. He gets Angus' clothes sewn up. Surprisingly, he sees the seamstress start to cut up spots that weren't ripped, but when he asks, she says there were actually stitches there as well. Apparently Angus is quite good at mending tears, because Rohan didn't even know those parts were mended. But he isn't as good as the seamstress, who spotted the handiwork clear as day. She reopens them to mend them again, this time making them invisible, as is simply expected when handling royalty's clothes.

And there's - uh... a lot to mend. Angus' clothes are thicker and don't get scuffed up nearly as much as Rohan's do, so Angus' hardly need a fraction of the work. But the seamstress gets to one of Rohan's shirts and asks if this is the one he's going to replace. There wasn't any talk about replacing a shirt, and it takes Rohan a while to realize this is the polite way of telling a prince that their shirt sucks and it's more holes than fabric, get a new one.

Rohan meekly says to skip mending that one, and when Deirdre asks later if it's all finished, Rohan mentions this. To which Deirdre rolls her eyes and tells Rohan he can have a new shirt, to which Rohan asks if this is the same as the new shirt she said he was getting, to which Deirdre says obviously not 🙄, because Rohan's shirts take two seconds to sew so this one doesn't count.

"You're a prince, Rohan. When I say you're getting a new shirt, I mean a nice one. With nice fabric. Replacing one of yours isn't even something you should have to decide."

It's a neat little moment, where the 'yours' calls back to the class divide that has always existed. A year ago, Rohan might have thought she was insulting him. Now, though, knowing he's royalty as well... he starts to understand the joke. The irony in saying his 'peasant shirts' are so easy to replace is her way of emphatically inviting him to accept the offer, because surely he can understand the difference between a 'nice' shirt - requiring effort and time and also permission - and one of 'his' shirts, which he has an open door to ask for any time he'd like.

It's odd, because it does feel reassuring. Something about it makes him understand that he isn't imposing or stepping out of line. He's still nervous, and he isn't planning to make this a habit, but he finally accepts that he doesn't need to grovel over it.

Although the smile on Deirdre's face implies the grovelling's appreciated, only because it emphatically shows his gratitude.

He gets it. He's never seen the dynamic revealed before, but he suddenly understands how the formality means nothing and yet everything all at once. There's an oddly special sincerity in him being so shy to take these favours when he's supposed to be "of the class" that wouldn't think twice about it.

If trucks existed, the contrast would've hit him like one when he returned to the seamstress to find Ivar casually describing the detailed shape of new socks to her.

Rohan didn't even know socks had other shapes than 'sock'.

He gets a new shirt. :)

... And it takes some awkward conversation with Ivar and very little eye contact with the seamstress before he can ask for a second one for Angus.

Rohan's delighted to surprise Angus with everything. Angus is delighted too - first, that Deirdre even let his clothes in the castle, and second, that the royal court seamstress made him a shirt. He's not even royal! It's hilarious! But it's greatly appreciated, because Rohan could've easily not bothered.

And again, it's not quite speaking to their new class divide. Angus isn't grovelling. He's thanking Rohan the same as if it'd been birthday. There's a thrill to that, knowing Rohan didn't have to wait for a birthday. Or for any special occasion. He wanted a shirt for him and Angus, and Rohan got those shirts. It was nerve-wracking, so he can't play it off like Deirdre would by saying it's a trivial thing for him to do. But he does take joy in knowing he got to 'cheat' a bit by having a special occasion on a regular day. The thrill of that is mutually understood.

But there's the divide. The beginning of the separation. This is going to be - someday - normal for Rohan. And it's going to still be a big surprise for Angus. That thought's not consciously in their heads, but if they knew what each other was thinking, Angus would be amazed Rohan was already puzzling over when the 'next time' would be, while Angus had naturally assumed there wouldn't be a next time at all. One of them is royal. One of them isn't.

One of them had learned that socks could be tailored to a person's foot.

One of them was still shocked his clothes were mended, not burned.

It stops being in isolation.

Food.

That's the thing that gives it away.

Rohan and Angus have both gotten used to be being invited to eat at the king's table. They're Mystic Knights, and it lets them discuss their next move.

They are not used to being invited for breakfast "just because."

Rohan's not sure what he thought was exactly happening in the castle. Ivar and Garrett stayed there; they weren't exactly kicked out to find their own breakfast. But he assumed they had to be with the king or at least the princess to eat in the throne room. He was shocked to find that no, Ivar and Garrett could eat there whenever they wanted.

"Obviously," Garrett said, continuing a pattern with that word, "not when there's a meeting. But you know that. You've been in the throne room before by yourself."

To walk in, to pass through, to speak with someone, perhaps even to unwind with the others... but never to eat there as if he had any ownership over the room.

"I understand," Garrett said. "Kells' castle is impractically small. In every other castle I've lived in, meals are served in their own room, and the throne room is reserved for matters of importance. But there's nowhere else to put the table."

And Garrett punctuates that with a shrug, as if his statement excused everything.

Ivar invites him to breakfast the next morning. Deirdre hears about it and asks if she can come to. Rohan is horrified to hear Garrett and Ivar explain that no, Deirdre can't come, because this is to teach Rohan that he's allowed to be in there without her or the king.

The class divide opens up, and this time in a new. The very horror he had gets addressed, but as its own formality. Ivar and Garrett are royalty, but it's her castle. If they're going to have a party without her, the least they could do is inconvenience themselves.

They settle on saying they'll be up at dawn - far too early to drag the princess out - and that it's all so they can get a brisk air to fully wake them before they train. Obviously, they would not exclude the princess from her own castle. It's simply so inconvenient that it'd be rude to impose an invitation.

It's all so self-aware. Rohan's seeing the inside of the joke revealing itself.

And he wouldn't have given it any other thought (at that moment at least) if Deirdre hadn't casually asked if Angus was going.

They laughed, understanding that Angus would never get up that early. Not to train.

But that's not what they said.

Self-aware again, speaking in formalities again, Ivar said, "You know Angus." And while he transitioned to inviting both Angus and Deirdre to join them later, Rohan was caught by what that really meant.

'Angus has a habit of sneaking into places he's not supposed to be, so he doesn't need an invitation. It wouldn't be a surprise to see him there. It wouldn't be a surprise not to see him.'

'Angus has a habit of sneaking in.'

'Angus would be sneaking in.'

In the moment, Rohan decides not to dwell on that. Later, he starts to think it's nothing... terrible. Later still, he almost thinks it's a compliment. Not everyone gets to sneak in and eat at the king's table but not get in trouble for it. Everyone knows he's a part of their team. He's their friend. He's welcome.

When he speaks to Angus that night, he knows he's almost convinced himself. It's maybe why he wants to go out of his way to say it to Angus, and prove that it really isn't a big deal.

"Do you want to come too?"

Rohan hasn't said Deirdre wouldn't be there, only that Ivar and Garrett would be. He doesn't think it'll spark anything. After all, a prince is a prince. Ivar and Garrett are there, so it means they already asked for permission.

"When is it?"

"Early."

Angus doesn't like that answer.

"You could bring me something back," Angus tries to negotiate.

"I'm not going to stuff pastries down my pants for you," Rohan says. He leaves out adding that it's more than enough to be sitting there without the king or the princess.

"I would," Angus sings.

And that's because that's Angus.

He has a habit of sneaking into places he's not supposed to.

"I don't want your pants-pastries," Rohan says.

Angus enjoys that answer very much.

Rohan brings something back. But he gets it from the cook afterwards. Taking it from the king's table feels like stealing, but asking for it afterwards... It's simply asking for a favour. There's no reason the cook wouldn't do him such a trivial favour.

He starts to see it for what it is: a table. Deirdre's table, but a table nonetheless. Once, the king arrived as Rohan and Ivar were eating there, and joined them. Another time, he and Garrett ate in Garrett's room, simply so they wouldn't be interrupted by anyone else.

And when Angus was there, no one questioned it.

It was Angus. They all knew Angus. And the thought of someone questioning his place here was an insult to them all.

When Angus purposely took extras to have for lunch later, they allowed it by ignoring it. After all, that's just how Angus was: always sneaking food.

It was almost funny that he was doing it. Didn't he know he could sneak in for lunch, too?

No. Obviously not. Because after they'd patrolled and noticed it was lunch, he and Angus instinctively parted ways to eat at home. This was normal. This was what they always did. But now Rohan saw the class divide raw and exposed.

Deirdre, Ivar and Garrett would be eating together at the castle.

To them, he and Angus were choosing to eat at the hut. Away from them. And while it might have meant excluding three of their friends, those friends couldn't simply invite themselves over. He and Angus weren't prepared to feed five mouths. It made sense to exclude them anyway, because he and Angus were best friends, and why wouldn't they want to have lunch at home and uninterrupted?

The truth was he and Angus hadn't known they could go to the castle too.

... Rohan felt foolish for it now. Like he hadn't realized he'd been excluding anybody. How could he? They were royalty! He couldn't just go and join them for a meal when he felt like it.

Except that he could. He was royalty as well.

And...

Well.

They knew Angus. It wouldn't be a surprise either way.

The others were pleasantly surprised when Rohan and Angus walked in for lunch after all.

Rohan spent some of it wondering when the next time would be.

Angus did not seem to realize it was something worth wondering about.

(I'm gonna come back and finish this later. I'm sleepy. uwu)

(edit: okay i'm back)

There's a new set of rules Rohan learns over time: what he's allowed to ask for, what's simply assumed he can have or do, what favours others can refused without malice, and what favours had better have a damn good reason to decline. The power it gives him doesn't take as much getting used to as he thought it would; he just has to be polite, and realize that every time he asks for something now, someone else might get in trouble for saying no.

It's the opposite of how things used to be, where there'd be punishments for saying yes and giving food or favours to peasants without permission. But the concept's the same. He doesn't ask for something they shouldn't give him, and if they quietly slip him something nice (like a warning to not request whatever it was he wanted), he takes it. They were putting their livelihoods on the line to refuse a prince at all - the same as getting caught giving table scraps to common orphans.

He barely asks for anything, of course. He doesn't need anything. Treats and snacks for Angus, maybe something brought back for dinner if Rohan suddenly decided to stay instead of heading back to the hut. It makes up for Angus having to wait to start dinner, just to find that Rohan had eaten already anyway.

Before anyone's patience ran thin at that (especially Angus, who got sour when he was too hungry), Rohan started making changes. If he was going to eat at the castle, they were all going to be there. It was thing to leave the other three out over a misunderstanding, but he couldn't accept leaving out his best friend over the same thing.

So, If he was eating at the castle, he'd find a way to let Angus know. If it meant walking all the way back to the hut to get him, fine. If it meant leaving a note and having Angus catch up with them later, that was alright too. And if they just wanted (or needed) to eat back at the hut by themselves, Rohan would find something for the night. Angus was fine with whatever; he just wanted food.

They could've kept going like this for ages - and Rohan fully intended to in the spring - but it was getting to the time of year where they had to stock up for winter. He mentioned this to Deirdre offhandedly, while he was getting up to meet Angus for exactly that.

Deirdre had had a thoughtful look on her face for a moment.

She had it covered away in the next with a smile.

And she had it revealed in full the day after. She'd talked to her father, she said. With Rohan being the warrior Draganta - and the who'd ended the war - it seemed improper to let him stay out all winter again. Politically so, perhaps, if Temra ever caught word of how Kells was treating their prince. So why not take one of the spare rooms in the castle?

Just for the winter, she repeated. Kells only had so many rooms available.

The slight wince she made saying that gave the divide away again. If Rohan were a 'real' prince, he supposed he'd be offended at the thought of 'taking' a room away from a future, possible, more royal-er guest. But he wasn't, and getting to have a room at all was wildly generous of her. She was glowing with pride at being allowed to offer it - which, he understood, was why she hadn't brought it up yesterday. She needed to make sure the king would approve.

... Speaking of approvals...

"That's very, very nice of you, princess," Rohan said, with his own wince brewing.

"But?"

"But..." There was that power, and he was here on the peasant side. It put him on the verge of refusing royalty, and if he did it for a bad reason, he'd find out fast how 'real' of a prince he wasn't. "... It'd leave Angus alone. I can't leave him in the hut by himself."

The best way to refuse wasn't to refuse. It was to think up an inconvenience their great princess could accept was impossible to overcome.

"Well, unfortunately," Deirdre said, "we don't have two rooms available."

"Aw. That's alrigh-"

"But he can stay with you," Deirdre said. "You two share a hut already. You can share a room with him for a few months."

"And you'd be fine with that," he challenged, curious. "No one would mind him hanging about the castle all day?"

"It's Angus," Deirdre said. "He's here all day anyway. I don't think anyone's ever had luck in keeping him out." She paused. "And if he causes trouble, that's his private room."

A cell.

Fair enough.

"I'll ask him about it," he said. She looked disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. "Truly, princess, it's very kind of you. But I don't know that he can last that long without causing any trouble."

Equally as fair. That would be their safe way to decline: pin it on Angus giving everybody a headache. It didn't matter if he would or not. It didn't matter if Rohan was practically just as bad. Rohan was a prince. Angus wasn't.

He'd meant it, though. He was going to ask Angus the next time they talked. Did they want to stay at the castle this winter?

"Not with Cathbad," Rohan said, cutting in before Angus made a face. "Deirdre said we'd have our own room. You and me would have to share, but we do that already. She'll even let you have your cell if you don't want to share."

"Hm. That's nice of her." A good answer. A positive one. Angus seemed to be mulling it over, and didn't entirely think it was some elaborate trap. Entirely. He still asked, "Why're we getting our own room?"

"Well -" He could've said a hundred different things. Rohan could have picked so many other ways of saying it, but he picked the one that had - at last - snapped the pieces into place. "- I'm Draganta."

Always, always, always in the past, Angus could've pushed back at that or laughed at him. 'Aren't you special,' perhaps. 'I'm a knight too,' if he was feeling snappy.

But that didn't work anymore.

This was their first time noticing.

Because if Angus tried saying anything about Rohan being Draganta, Rohan could instantly counter by saying he was a prince.

There was nothing either one of them could say to get around that fact.

"Right," Angus said instead, having done the same math and getting Rohan's answer. "You are." And then that had to hang for a while, looming as they awkardly adjusted to the weight of that news. "... Glad it's paying off."

"Yeah," Rohan said. "There's benefits."

Then that had to hang there, too.

"I'll think it over," Angus replied at last. "Winter's long."

Then he walked off before Rohan could answer.

'Winter's long'? What did that mean?

"You can say no if you don't want to," Rohan muttered.

... Well.

Assuming Angus didn't want to.

Winter was long. That couldn't be helped. And Angus didn't technically say 'no'.

"I'll give him some time to think," he said to himself.

Yeah. Yeah, Rohan would wait for a while. Angus probably just wanted to plan how to survive being trapped with all of them. It wouldn't make sense to refuse otherwise.

[iamdrowninghelpme98]

Entry 15:

2024

~~~~~~~~~

reflecting

Ten years. It’s been a decade since I feel like I threw my life away. I look back, and I don’t see any future that I built for myself. No dreams. No goals. Just a trail of destruction, regret, and wasted time. It all started when I was so young. A high schooler. By the time I graduated, I wasn’t just experimenting- I was a full-blown addict. I lost my future before I even had the chance to dream of one.

That’s how I met my husband.

I was just a sophomore, at some party thrown by upperclassmen. I wasn’t supposed to be there, and my friends were only interested in meeting cute boys. I thought I was too, but I wasn’t. Not really. They weren’t into drugs, and at the time, I didn’t think I was either. But I was still chasing that escape from everything. I was prescribed Xanax for anxiety after the rape, but my prescription ran out, and I didn’t know how to get more. I wasn’t ready for the flood of anxiety without it.

That night, a guy in my class told me he knew where I could get some. He pointed me to R. Some guy in his early 20s who bought “party favors” for the seniors. And that’s where everything started to unravel.

I remember walking up to R, asking if he could hook me up with a few pills, thinking that was all I needed. He laughed in my face. I guess I didn’t look like the kind of person who would buy drugs at a party. I tried to justify it, saying I wasn’t a druggie, that I just needed them for anxiety. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He was skeptical but charming- his big blue eyes, that smile… it didn’t match the idea of a dealer. He wasn’t the kind of guy your parents warned you about, but maybe that’s what made him more dangerous.

That night, I took way too many pills. I was used to a low dosage, but R gave me a dose that tripled what I was prescribed. I blacked out. That wasn’t his fault, I was acting out to impress the older crowd, I was out of my element. My so-called friends left me there. I guess they were too horrified to deal with me, too embarrassed to be associated with the mess I’d become. R offered to give me a ride home, but I blacked out again in his car, unable to even tell him where I lived. When I woke up, it wasn’t home. It was his bed.

Three days passed. Three days of more drugs, more blackouts, more nothing. I didn’t go home, didn’t go to school, didn’t talk to my parents. It all blurred together. I barely remember what we talked about, but I know we did—about life, about nothing at all. It was nonsense, but in that drugged haze, it felt magical. It felt like the rules didn’t apply to us. Time stopped. We could do whatever we wanted, take whatever we wanted, pass out wherever we wanted. I’d never felt like that before- so free, so reckless, so empty.

When he finally brought me home, it wasn’t because he wanted to. It was because my parents had threatened to file a missing persons report. Three days. They didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve to worry like that. But I didn’t care. I was numb. I walked through the door, barely sober, and my dad ran R off, threatening police involvement since I was a minor, and he wasn’t.

After meeting R, I finally felt like I had a friend again. I wasn’t allowed to see him, of course- my parents made sure of that after the stunt he pulled dropping me off. But I found ways around it. I’d pretend I was going to a friend’s house after school, but really, R would just pick me up and bring me back to his place. The truth is, I didn’t have many friends left anyway. But my parents didn’t know that. They didn’t know I was a laughing stock at school, that no one wanted anything to do with me anymore. I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth- that the people I once called friends now hated me.

My reputation was destroyed. I was known as a slut. It all started freshman year, after my assault. I confided in a few close friends, and the news only circulated around the community for a little while. But then, it happened again- this time assaulted by my friend’s older brother, the night before a track meet. I told her what happened eventually, but she didn’t believe me when I told her I had told her brother no. Instead, she told everyone that her brother wasn’t a rapist, that I was just a slut using rape as an excuse for sleeping around. “No one gets raped twice,” she said. She called me a whore, too embarrassed to own up to my actions, and who’d rather play the victim than admit I was just a ‘hoe.’

She was popular. Her brother was popular. Everyone listened to them. And I was a nobody.

After the accusations about me spread, everything changed. The girls in my grade stopped talking to me almost entirely. It wasn’t just whispers or side eye glances anymore- I was completely isolated. The cafeteria became unbearable, a sea of faces that either didn’t care or outright disliked me. I started ditching and getting high during lunch, just to avoid the judgment in the cafeteria, and before long, that bled over into getting high during class too. But at that point, it didn’t really matter. I was invisible to the students, and the staff didn’t seem to notice me either. I didn’t have any teachers I was close to at that point in school, no one I felt I could turn to. I was just… there, drifting.

One time, I got jumped in the parking lot by a girl who thought I was talking to her boyfriend. She was bigger than me, and I was strung out on xanax, so I didn’t stand a chance. I got my ass kicked, and not a single teacher noticed. You’d have to know my high school to understand how insane that was- there were always people around, it was a big, busy place. But that day, I was invisible. It felt personal, like even the universe had decided I didn’t matter enough to be seen. I didn’t report it, though. I couldn’t be a snitch. At the time, I couldn’t shake the thought that if it had been anyone else, someone would have stepped in. It’s kind of silly looking back, but in my messed-up mindset, it was just more proof of how little I was seen.

Another time, two girls in the grade above me got suspended for being high throughout the school day. I had two classes with one of them and one with the other. I was just as high as they were, but no one noticed me. They got in trouble, but I didn’t. I almost felt bad for them, but truthfully, I wasn’t surprised. I’d become so good at blending into the background, it was like I didn’t even exist.

But R was there for me. He saw me. He believed me. He didn’t care what anyone else thought, and for the first time in a long time, I felt important. He knew I wasn’t the things they said at school I was, he confirmed I was a real person and not the ghost I started to feel like.

Fast forward several months, and I overdosed in my bedroom one morning. I don’t remember much except waking up in the back of an ambulance with a tube down my throat and my mom crying next to me. The look on her face still haunts me. When I was discharged from the hospital, I was given two options: go to rehab or get kicked out. My mom told me she would never, ever walk in on me near death again. She couldn’t handle it. I refused rehab. I didn’t believe I had a problem. I had never been to rehab before, but I had spent 90 days in an eating disorder clinic, and I hated every second of it. I didn’t want to experience anything like that again.

So, I called R.

Within hours, I was moved into his apartment. I didn’t know where else to go. But R made it clear right away: “I’m not going to have some random kid living with me,” he said. If I was going to live there, I was to be his girlfriend. We were pretty much dating at that point anyway.

But I was excited. Someone actually wanted me. I’m not pretty, I’m not talented, and I’m not special in the slightest- but he wanted me. In that moment, I felt desired, something I wasn’t used to feeling.

I didn’t realize then what I know now.

That was the beginning. The beginning of ten years of this fucking roller coaster.

[simonsholidays]

Simon's holidays - Part 2: Shopping at the supermarket

Tuesday goes by, but I think a lot about the decision I made the day before. Did I make the right choice? I've asked myself the question many times, and the same answer keeps coming back when I think about getting my console at the end of the holidays.

Certainly, I'll have to go through this week. It won't necessarily be a walk in the park, even though it's still a daycare center. I also need to be careful not to reveal myself; I would have made all these efforts for nothing.

Without mentioning that I was going, I asked my friends if they were going to a daycare center for the holidays, and none of them are, thankfully. Tony told me that only babies go there... it was a bit hurtful, but well, I think the same, actually.

Wednesday morning arrives, and during breakfast with Dad, he reminds me of our appointment.

I haven't forgotten," I say. "Perfect, then. We have an appointment at 2 PM, but we'll go shopping around noon, I'll pick you up from school, and then we can eat at Burger King if you want." "Oh yes, great, it's been a while."

The morning feels long, very long indeed. The two hours of math are endless, not to mention the German and French classes. The school bell rings, and my friends and I leave the classroom and the schoolyard.

"Aren't you taking the bus?" Théo asks. "No, I'm having lunch in town with my dad." "Lucky you."

Well, maybe I'm lucky to have a burger for lunch, but not so much to go to that appointment. But I can't tell him that, of course.

"See you tomorrow, Théo." "See you tomorrow, Simon."

Dad is already here, and I get into the car. We head to the nearest shopping center, which houses a hypermarket and a Burger King.

"What are we going to buy?" I ask. "Diapers," Dad responds matter-of-factly. "What, right now? Here? In broad daylight? Couldn't you have done it without me?" "We're buying diapers for you, so you need to be here." I now understand why you suggested going to Burger King afterward... I hope we won't run into anyone I know; that would be too embarrassing. "We'll be careful, I promise."

Once we enter the shopping mall and then the supermarket, we immediately look for the diaper aisle.

When we find it, much to my dismay, we're not the only ones there. There's quite a crowd! It's as if everyone decided to do their shopping on the same day at the same time.

I quickly scan the area for familiar faces, but thankfully, there's no one I recognize. Among the people present, several are mothers with their children, and they're selecting diapers. I spot several diaper packages in their shopping carts.

Dad, on the other hand, starts searching among the hundreds of diaper packages. He approaches, takes some packages in his hands, and puts them back after reading them. I cautiously stay away to avoid any association with me.

"Simon, come closer and help me, please. We shouldn't spend all day here. You know, the longer we stay, the higher the chances of someone you know seeing us," Dad advises.

He has a point; what he says is true. So, I start looking as well. After three minutes of searching without any luck, Dad tells me he'll find someone to assist us.

I'm not thrilled about it, of course, but what else can we do? Maybe there are no diapers for my age, at least not here.

He returns promptly, accompanied by a saleswoman.

"They're right here," she says to Dad, pointing. "You mentioned that there were several models and brands, didn't you?" "Yes, that's correct. It's for an 11-year-old child." "Um, Dad, that was absolutely unnecessary."

"So, you need a model for older children, for boys. Here's what I suggest," she says, taking a package from the shelf and handing it to Dad.

Dad takes it in his hands and examines it. I can read the word "Drynites" on it.

"I think I've seen advertisements on TV for these diapers. Excuse me, I don't know much about this, but aren't these for nighttime?" "They work just fine during the day, no problem." "And are you sure about the size?" "Absolutely. Look here; it's written that it's suitable for children aged 8 to 15. Your son is right within that age range. Just be cautious the next time you buy them; the packaging for other sizes is quite similar." "That seems to fit what we're looking for." "Oh, but wait, we've recently stocked a new brand of diapers, Carryboo. It's similar to Drynites, and we've had very positive customer feedback. Here, take a look; it's this package." "What do you think, Simon?" Dad asks. "Which one should we get?"

I feel a little ashamed, or actually quite a lot. But who cares? A diaper is a diaper. Dad shows me the two packages he's holding. I quickly glance at them and feel like the second package looks less "diaper-like" because it doesn't have any designs on it.

"The second package," I say.

"Thank you for your help, madam," Dad says. "I'll take these."

While saying that, Dad puts the first package back on the shelf.

"Thank you. Have a good day, both of you, and good luck to you, young man," she adds with a smile.

Grrrr, what am I doing here?

"Alright, should I just take one package?" "I don't know, whatever," I say, turning around to see if anyone is eavesdropping. "Yeah, one is enough."

Dad and I head towards the exit. He opts for the self-checkout, which is great because I wouldn't have wanted that diaper package on the conveyor belt with other people's groceries.

Dad holds the package between his arm and body, which partially hides the label. I have the feeling he's doing his best to spare me the embarrassment.

The self-checkout lanes are occupied, but the line moves quickly. In less than two minutes of waiting, a lane opens up for us.

Dad scans the package and places it in the bagging area. He proceeds to make the payment and retrieves both the package and the receipt. I'm right behind him when we pass through the security gate, and suddenly it starts beeping.

Both of us halt in our tracks and wait for someone to come over. Dad is still holding the diaper package, and I sense that people are looking at us.

A security guard arrives promptly and asks Dad for his receipt. He examines it, glances at the diaper package, and then looks back at us.

Did he realize that these diapers were for me? I'm not sure, but in any case, he tells us we can go. Phew, that didn't last long.

"Let's go eat that burger," Dad says. "You've earned it. I'm proud of you."

I don't really feel like I've done something praiseworthy, but oh well.

A few dozen meters ahead is the Burger King; I can see it from where I'm standing. We start walking, and I realize that Dad is bringing the diaper package with us.

"But we don't even have a bag to put the diapers in. Aren't we going to take it inside?" I ask.

"It doesn't even look like a diaper package. No one will notice. We'll just place it on the seat."

Well, I hope he's right, but it's true that this package doesn't look like the diaper packages we were looking at in the store.

When we reach the restaurant, it's the peak of lunch hour, and there are quite a few people. However, I can see that there are still some empty tables.