#though perhaps the initial befriending was tinged

[kalmiopsis]

[thewhitefluffyhat]

No, Alina Isn’t Crazy

Let me explain...

When Alina was first introduced, I thought she was the character that made the least sense as an actual person rather than as a trope-y “mad artist” archetype.  But after the reveal of her backstory, I find her personality and motivations do make sense, especially when you consider the events of Alina’s Magical Girl Story from her perspective.  

Indeed, since that story’s release on JP, she’s quickly risen to become my favorite new character from Magia Record.  Hence why I’m posting this today - it’s another semi-Magia Rapport related post, haha.  Alina is definitely my favorite of the Forest element characters, and perhaps this essay will show a little of why that is.

Provocative title and Magia Rapport aside, though, what’s actually below the "Keep reading” is a close read analysis essay, specifically focused on Alina’s MGS.  (A lot of Holy Alina’s MGS serves to confirm and reinforce little points scattered throughout this too, but this post was long enough without it!)

Introduction

The theme of Alina’s own art might be “Alina’s beauty” and “life, death, and emotion/decay.”  But I would argue that the theme of her MGS as a when taken as a short story is “voyeurism and objectification at the cost of self-identity.”  Specifically, how Alina’s actions and personality are the logical conclusion to that concept taken to an extreme.

There’s one important truth to Alina’s world, and that is the idea that Alina’s art IS Alina.  We see it at the start – when she says her art is what she enjoys and what she grasps with her own hands.  We see it at the end – with her realization that her art’s theme is “Alina’s beauty.”

And at the end of the day, what MGS Alina most seems to want is to be left alone to do art, to be herself.  But who is Alina?

Alina the Teen Prodigy

Unfortunately for Alina, her fame gets in the way of figuring that out.  Such is the life of a teen prodigy.  As perhaps can be expected, constantly parading children under a spotlight is a great recipe for turning out extremely high-strung kids with very warped self-esteem.

(See also: Nemu, but especially Touka.)

The exchange regarding the award here is a good illustration of that mindset.  It might initially seem contradictory for Alina to work desperately hard to win an award that she later doesn’t want and claims she wasn’t aiming to win.  But once being “gifted” becomes central to your identity, winning an award doesn’t feel good anymore.  It feels more like running in place, just the bare minimum expected of you to maintain your identity as a genius.  And Alina’s perfectionism means she can’t not hold herself to that standard.

Indeed, Alina is already showing signs that she’s struggling under the pressure and overexposure.  Normally, Alina seems to love talking about art and her own works (as long as it isn’t about herself, anyway).  Arguing with her teacher and running away are far more of a bother and interfere with her ability to get back to painting far more than a quick meeting would have been.  Yet she curses at her teacher, bolts, and skips school rather than have to deal with the consequences of her fame again.

She’s irrationally lashing out, asserting her boundaries in whatever way she can. And with the way the characters react, this doesn’t even seem like the first time it’s happened, either...

Which suggests Alina’s problems with her fame also aren’t new.  When we first meet her, Alina is already a lot closer to a breakdown than she appears on the surface.

Having natural talent from an early age, Alina probably hasn’t learned how to deal with failure without spiraling into a full blown identity crisis.  As a perfectionist, she’s also hypersensitive to even the slightest mistake.  And given that she’s been famous for a few years at this point, her acting out is practically expected.

Just given the setting that she’s a well-known child prodigy, it’s not surprising that Alina has all these traits.

Alina’s Adults Are Useless

What is a bit disturbing, though, is that adults around Alina aren’t any help in protecting her from her fame.

Indeed, from what we see, the pattern is the opposite - over and over, the supposedly “responsible” adults in Alina’s life say her visibility matters more than her consent.  Her teacher pressures her into competitions she dislikes and then gets on her case when she pushes back.  Her parents put up her whole life story, including photos of her as a kid, without Alina’s approval or even permission. 

Jumping ahead, I think it’s rather telling that Alina manages to destroy all her art, commit suicide, and get rescued by a third party – and none of these adults even visit her.  A popular theory is that Alina’s parents are travelling in a different country.  But - did no one tell them?  Did they not care?  As it is, anything Alina does – even blatant red flags like destroying a classroom and her own art – is treated as just another work of artistic genius, to be advertised and exhibited.  

(Because apparently nothing says High Art like creep shots of a teenage girl having a mental breakdown.)

Of course, Alina isn’t being neglected or abused like Sana or Yuma.  Not even close.  But she’s not in a great situation either.  She doesn’t really have anyone she can turn to in a crisis.  The adults in her life mostly use her for their own ends, reinforcing that her worth is in her fame as an artist, not her value as a person.

Alina’s Peers Aren’t Much Better

Then, on a more subtle level, there are Alina’s peers.  Whenever she’s mentioned by people her own age, she’s either the subject of scary rumors or glowing admiration.  Other kids know her as a celebrity name to be idolized or feared, not a person.  

Before becoming a magical girl, the only person who actually makes an effort to befriend Alina is Karin.  But even she is initially caught up in the aura of Alina’s fame and contributes to the swirl of gossip around her.

The result is a situation where everyone around Alina has their own opinion on who she is.  No one seems to care or leave space for who Alina wants herself to be.  And Alina, not having a social life to fall back on, is increasingly left with “genius artist” as the only means she has to interact with the world.  It’s a self-reinforcing spiral.

The Critic’s Letter

First, what it’s not: this isn’t about Alina getting a bad review and not being able to handle criticism of her work.  She’s already won the competition.  And Alina is perfectionistic to unhealthy levels - she’s already her own worst critic.

Rather, the letter’s insinuations are both subtler and crueler.  As Alina says, the critic isn’t concerned with her artwork - he’s commenting on Alina as a person.   Thus, the critic’s words are the same pattern as before, now crystallized into its sharpest and purest form.

Alina’s internal sense of identity is precariously fragile.  Meanwhile, Alina’s external identity is being used as a canvas for other people’s desires.  Even though all Alina really wants is to create art for her own sake, other people obsess over and dump their own meaning (or lack of meaning) onto her works.

Once again, Alina’s art is conflated with Alina herself.  The person is being evaluated as a piece of art.

As if that wasn’t enough, the letter’s final insinuation that Alina is losing her brilliance is a triple threat.  If she can’t create great art, Alina loses the activity she enjoys most. She also loses the one thing she knows other people value her for.  And worst of all, she loses the only touchpoint she has for her sense of self.

Cue existential crisis.  Alina’s life is Alina’s art.  Alina’s art is Alina life.   Without one, she doesn’t have any concept of the other.  

And in the light of all this, her suicide makes perfect sense. 

Alina’s Suicide

Welcome to the literal and figurative objectification of Alina.  Literal, in that she’s turning into a corpse.  Figurative in that by putting her body up for display, she’s allowing people to voyeuristically consume it –  an idea further reinforced by the “Kusouzu / Nine Phases” reference in the title implying a tinge of sexual objectification as well. 

Now that she’s destroyed all of her previous works, the only thing Alina leaves her audience to look at is Alina herself.  Filming her body as it turns from a person into a dead object was simply the logical conclusion to a life of being displayed, objectified, and overwritten by others’ perceptions.  

But how does Alina feel about this ending?

The day of her suicide, Alina rushes around in a kind of manic euphoria.  This isn’t especially odd.  After all, it’s not uncommon for a suicidal person to outwardly appear happier before they make an attempt, as finally having a concrete plan of action can feel like a huge relief.  

Dying means a solution to Alina’s worries about her talent fading.  Dying also means an end to all the pressure, all the constant struggle of performing to ever-heightening expectations.  Alina can simply abandon the cases and tools once she’s done with them - no need to stress about the future when she won’t have one.

Alina’s farewell, though, betrays darker emotions.  It’s simultaneously deeply spiteful - “this is what you all wanted from me, are you happy now?” - yet also an admission of utter defeat.  Alina is giving up her very humanity and selfhood to be evaluated as whatever her audience wants.

Throughout the story, everyone keeps telling Alina that her art is intoxicating, pulling the viewer into it… but the reality is the exact opposite.  Alina’s art was just something Alina made for herself, and any intoxicating meaning was something the viewer injected into it.  

And thus, Alina’s revelation.  Alina’s theme is “Alina’s beauty” – both a rejection and an embrace of that objectification.  Now, Alina has declared that her art loudly and unabashedly about herself, viewer projection be damned.  And yet, at the same time, since “Alina” is what viewers are obsessed with seeing, then Alina will give them exactly what they want…

An Artistic Failure?

So then why does Alina consider her final art to be a failure?  It fits well within the theme of “Alina’s beauty.”   Indeed, her later works like “Humanity’s Implicit Reward” and even her swimsuit are arguably just softer variations of the “Alina’s body as forbidden yet alluring object for the viewer to consume” idea that is present here.

This suicide also seems to fit into the “life and death” motifs she has.  It’s a twisted kind of resurrection - effectively, she’s killing herself as a human in order to live on eternally as a memorable piece of art.

Alina plans her final work directly because she thinks she’s dying as a creator.  Rather than face her brilliance fading, she chooses to defy it by going out in a blaze of glory.  And when put that way, it’s an exciting and fitting conclusion.  

There’s just one little problem with that narrative...

While drifting between life and death, Alina realizes the critic was wrong.  She had a theme all along.  Alina’s brilliance wasn’t fading.

And thus, since she wasn’t a “dying artist,” her “going out in a blaze of glory” no longer holds any profound meaning.  She’s just a silly teenager who got too worked up over a harsh letter.

The overall concept behind Alina’s last work wasn’t the issue.  The failure was in the timing and execution, killing herself before such a thing had meaning and in a way such that her body would be found.

And so, I don’t think Alina has learned her lesson here.  I don’t think Karin’s words have gotten through to her yet.  If she concludes at a later point that her talent is truly is fading or that she’s lost her theme, I’d fully expect her to pull another suicidal stunt again.

Conclusion

So the good news: Alina lived!  She’ll have plenty more chances to create art and figure herself out!

But the bad news: Alina’s revelation implies she’s now even more reliant on her identity as a genius artist.  

And thus, like so many other characters, the end to Alina’s MGS isn’t really an ending. She hasn’t solved the problem at the heart of the crisis that led to her wish.  Becoming a magical girl and discovering witches does nothing to stop Alina from falling into another identity spiral, nor has she left her suicidal tendencies behind.

Alina found her theme, but she still hasn’t found herself.

Misc Details

Some other neat miscellaneous details that fit with this interpretation:

I’m glad the English translation keeps at least a little of the quirky way Alina refers to herself.  (That being said, in Japanese, it’s even more exaggerated - she doesn’t use normal first person pronouns at all, only using “Alina.” )

Because on the one hand, this is an obvious hint at her extreme narcissism: Alina’s sentences frequently emphasize her name.

On the other hand, it’s a great subtle detail to return to the theme of objectification.  To put it another way, Alina refers to herself in third-person.  That is, even when Alina is speaking about herself, she reflexively frames it from the point of view of another person.  Because Alina is constantly having other people’s perspectives forced onto her!

Also, it turns out the pattern of others projecting onto Alina is present in her witch as well!  “Old Dorothy” is a historical figure whose diaries have been analyzed by multiple different researchers.  Some of them came to the conclusion that Dorothy was definitely a witch, others came to the conclusion she was definitely a normal, upstanding member of her community.  The researchers got completely opposite results from the same exact diaries.  So therefore - did they truly care about learning what Dorothy was really like?  Or were they just out to prove their own theories?

(Two years in, Old Dorothy is even more fitting of a name.  Doroinu basically predicted the entire fan response to Alina.  Some people see her as an evil (w)itch, some people see her as a sympathetic figure - all from looking at the same text.

We’re even starting to see the “two sides” of Alina come up in the Main Story, with Karin’s subplot in Arc 2.)

Meanwhile, Old Dorothy’s form - a “paint tube” - carries both this “paint over with your perceptions” meaning while also suggesting the same story as Alina’s final piece in miniature.  

Unlike Izabel, Alina’s witch form isn’t that of an artist.  Because when Alina hits her lowest point of despair, she no longer considers herself to be an artist.  She believes the only value she has left is to become literal materials to create art.  

In other words, Old Dorothy is Alina turning herself into art again.  It’s just rainbow paint this time instead of red.

Last but not least: yes, I am absolutely aware of the irony of this essay.   Here I am rambling about how Alina’s story is all about her struggle to be herself while everyone seems determined to erase her in favor of their own projections – and yet  a good chunk of this interpretation is probably my projecting on her.   Whoops!

Still, even if you disagree with it, I hope this essay was interesting and maybe made you question some of your assumptions about Alina.  

Thanks for reading!

[chaotic-good-hawke]

Character Interview: Fenrir Lavellan

Tagged by the lovely @mocha-writes. Thank you! I will tag @sadmagecentral​, @caed-nuas​, @dickeybbqpit​, and anyone else who would like to! 

9:42 Dragon, at Skyhold, shortly before the final confrontation with Corypheus. 

name ➔ “Fenrir Lavellan. Did you not know that? Hm, seems strange to interview an unknown stranger.” He is most definitely teasing the interviewer.  are you single ➔ “No, I’m not single.” He can’t hide his smile and really he isn’t trying to.  are you happy ➔ “I would say I am, yes.”  are you angry ➔ “Should I be?” He tilts his head to consider the interviewer.  are your parents still married ➔  “...no, unfortunately my father passed some years ago.” 

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “In an aravel somewhere in the Free Marches.”  hair color ➔ “White.” eye color ➔ “Violet.” birthday ➔ “I was born in 9:15 Dragon. The exact date is only important to remind my cousin Hela that I am older than her.”  mood ➔  “Curious.”  gender ➔ “Male works.”  summer or winter ➔  “Winter. The snow is lovely.” 

morning or afternoon ➔ “Morning.” That smile again. “No, I will not elaborate.” 

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ “Yes, I am.” do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “As a novel convention, sure. In real life? I think people can have an instant attraction and connection, but I would hesitate to call it love. Though, I am willing to admit I may be wrong.”   who ended your last relationship ➔ “You know, I think she did, actually.” He looks deep in thought. “It was mutual, but she initiated it.”  have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “Not purposefully.” are you afraid of commitments ➔ “No. Not at all. I commit to everything I do and I feel the same about my relationships, whether romantic or platonic.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Many someones, actually.”  have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “They wouldn’t be secret if I knew, would they?” He says with a smirk.  have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “I...perhaps...no, probably not.” 

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Love. Lust is fun and all, but love is transcendent and wondrous.” He gets a faraway look before refocusing on the interviewer.  lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced Tea. Dorian swears by it.”  cats or dogs ➔ “Dogs, I’ve found, are the friendliest creatures in existence.” 

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I have a few close friends, but I also care about those who are not as close. So, both.”  wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Both are good, both in the same night is the best.” He grins to himself, ignoring the interviewers prompting stare.  day or night ➔ “Night. No, day.” He thinks. “Both. Why must it be either or?” 

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Many, many times. I swear my mother had the most sensitive ears in all the land.” He paused, suddenly looking worried. “Please don’t tell her I said that.” 

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “I can neither confirm nor deny the incident from Windersend and anyone who claims otherwise should be reported to the spymaster.”  wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ His cheerful face freezes for a moment before he answers, tone tinged with regret. “Yes...but we can’t change things just by wanting and many things are beyond our control. Falon’Din takes many away.”  wanted to disappear ➔ “Oh, a number of times when Hela and I were caught in some shenanigans. That would have been handy. Also, directly after the explosion of Haven, but then I would not be here, so I suppose it all worked out.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ "Not to be contrary, but the smile that is so true and overtaking that you see it in their eyes.”  shorter or taller ➔ “There are benefits to both. Both is good.”  intelligence or attraction ➔ “Again with these either or questions.” He sighs. “Intelligence, I suppose. Good conversation and debate is incredibly attractive.” hook-up or relationship ➔ “I was open to either, but I prefer relationships, particularly the one I am in now.” 

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ “Yes. My family is very close, though Hela and I have oft tried our elders patience when we were younger...well, mostly when we were younger. I hope I will see them again soon.” would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “There are dark things in my past, but can that not be said of everyone? I do not consider my life to be “messed up” in particular.”  have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No. Well, never longer than a day. I had never intended to leave so permanently, but things happen.”  have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ .”No? Well, Hela and I would get up to mischief, sure, but it was never so bad nor permanent that we would be kicked out of the clan.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No. What would be the purpose of that? It would only hurt us both and be a waste of energy. If I dislike someone, I do not befriend them.”  do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I believe so, yes.” He smiles fondly. “Creators, I am truly blessed.”  who is your best friend ➔ “I would say my cousin, Hela, though our positions have lead us to grow apart recently. Besides her, I am close with several here.”  who knows everything about you ➔ “Hela, unfortunately, know too much about me. But she is family, so otherwise, I would say Dorian knows me best...though Leliana may have them both beat, honestly, you can never be sure.” 

[dominushq]

Hello everyone! Below the cut will be a sample application to act as a sort-of guide for all of you. Please take note that this is only a guide and that we, in no way, shape, or form, expect everyone’s application to look like this. This is only provided as an example! 

Congratulations, HENRY! You have been accepted for the role of MARCUS with the character JOHN MARCUS ELLIS. Please head over to the checklist page for any final reminders and send in your blog within twenty-four hours. Congratulations on your acceptance and we can’t wait to have you with us!

OOC.

Name/Alias: henry Pronouns: they/them or he/him Age: nineteen Timezone: gmt+1 Activity Level: i’m one of the two admins of the roleplay, so i’ll probably be around a lot! the exchange program will probably be an issue, though i promise to still try and pull my own weight. weekends will probably see me more active more often than not. for a numerical rating, i’d say 7/10. Triggers: removed for privacy. Anything else? removed for privacy.

IC.

Name: John Marcus Ellis

— JOHN: The name of an Evangelist, the Beloved Disciple, the only one who stood with Mary the Theotokos at the foot of the cross as Christ hung crucified—your father named you John in great anticipation of the works of faith he hoped you’ll come to exemplify and you’ve somewhat followed much of the example your namesake set. Even now, the words of the Gospel of John is still seared onto your brain, a piece that you memorised once when you were bored that your mind never quite let go of. 

— MARCUS: How convenient that your name in Sodalitas has already been, in some respects, your name. The Stoic Roman Emperor had never held your regard but you can somewhat see the respect people had or him. When the society gave you that name, you began using it in your daily life as well, seeing no point in keeping John when all the people you knew called you Ellis or Marcus already. Sometimes, when you’re with your parents at Lambeth, the sound of your own first name feels like a stranger’s now.

— ELLIS: Your last name has never really been that notable until your father became the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was noble, to be sure, but it was a minor noble family, one that accorded no mention in history books. In fact, it had been your mother’s family that was the more notable when you were younger, the Grosvenor family one of the few who share the privilege of being close to the Queen and her family. With the passage of time, the star of your father’s rise began to shine brighter and it is his name that draws attention now. When you introduce yourself, it only takes a second for them to realise that you’re that child of the Archbishop, and you realise that there’s a possibility that you will remain forever in the shadow of your father. 

Age: Nineteen Faceclaim: Niels Trispel Gender ID: Nonbinary Pronouns: They/them Field of Study: Theology and Religion College: St. John’s College

Biography.

trigger warnings: stillbirth

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ( John 1:1)

These words spill out of your lips, over and over again, as if you’re a broken record. Your father asks you to continue and you try to recite the next verse from memory alone, the Bible in front of you only ever to be consulted if strictly necessary. This could almost be a vigil, except you’re far too young to know what the words really mean, and so it ends up meaning nothing, the words just remaining words instead of whatever phenomenon your father had hoped to conjure up. It’s not that you’re stupid—you could, if you concentrate hard enough, conceptualise of a word given Being (and, even now, you know it’s with a capital B)—but the concept of divinity itself is foreign to you, even as your father exemplifies it with his very being and your mother takes great care to ensure that you’re brought up in the faith.

You know he’s an important man and that you are, in some ways, blessed for having such a man for a father but his title means nothing to you—at least not for now. It will in the future, but the future’s a long way away still. For now, you are a child.

( But were you ever really a child? )

This is an account of the heavens and the earth. ( Genesis 2:4 )

This is how your life starts: you are born to The Right Reverend Thomas Weatherby Ellis and a schoolteacher named Lady Margaret Anne Grosvenor. You are their only child, after complications from a birth after yours resulted into a stillbirth and the inviability of your mother’s womb to ever bear fruit again. The years of your childhood pass by without consequence, and you are hard-pressed to remember the details that surround your early life. If you concentrate hard enough, you can think of the feel of leather under your cheek as you dozed off while studying, the way you thought that gilding at the edges of the Bible would rub off on your fingertip and the disappointment when it didn’t, and the way expectation always seemed right around the corner, a familiar and dark thing that has been your nurturer more than either of your parents.

Beyond these, however, there is nothing much else—not for the reasons of tragedy or great harm, but because you’ve always been mature for your age: an adult in a kid’s body was what they called you, and you’ve realised through the passage of the years that you were never really a child in the conventional way other children were. In a way, you’re more mature than any of your other peers. (In another, this repression has made you capable of a childishness that shocks even you, resulting in a fearful wanting that only children are capable of—a wanting that you deny exists but continues to do so nonetheless.) 

You do not remember much of your childhood because it blends from this day and the next and so on, an almost stunning replica of your life right now that it feels as if you have stood unchanging since the dawn of time. However hard you try, you can’t ever remember a time when you haven’t always been like this, as if the void has always been inside of you, swallowing any vestiges of real emotion, sapping you of the vitality that you keenly feel is so present in other people but not you, never you.

( Have you always been wanting? )

Pray, then, like this: our Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. ( Matthew 6:9 )

There is a great bustling in your life one day, a great rupture in the routine schedule of your day-to-day living. People tell you your father is a great man—no, a good man, a holy man—and they say this as if it should mean something to you. They hail your family as a paragon of virtue and they think that the knowledge you have is proof of your father’s upstanding virtue. His titles change and you move into a new place called Lambeth, a veritable palace in comparison to your former residence, which you are quick to forget. (Some days you forget even its name, until it hits you suddenly: Bishopthorpe.)  It’s a stretch to say you’ve flourished in your new residence, but the library at Lambeth does become your home, for whatever it’s worth, and your mother often found you passed out in between stacks of books.

You stay for only a couple of years or so at most before you get shipped out to boarding school. It’s a tradition, after all, and that is what your family has stood for ever since time immemorial. The decision is not without its detractors—for how, some say, can a man who profess to follow the example of Jesus Christ justify the use of so much money?—but then you test as a Queen’s Scholar and the news of the extravagance of your tuition fees is swept away by news of your precociousness. They begin whispering that you will be like your father some day, a scholar in the service of Christ, knowledge pursued and discovered for the greater glory of God.

You don’t know what to think about that.

( And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes— )

Let no one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, practices divination or conjury, interprets omens, practices sorcery, casts spells, consults a medium or familiar spirit, or inquires of the dead. ( Deuteronomy 18:10-11)

Your father tells you the history of your family one night when you are home after Michaelmas term.

It is a long and proud history, he says, one in which he and your mother took part in, and which you will take part in one day soon. Oxford’s secrets will be laid bare before you, as well as the secrets of the universe and the meaning of life, but—perhaps most importantly—you will come to know the most important people who will undoubtedly make changes in the history of your nation, if not the world. The preparations have already been made, he tells you. A boy should have come up in Eton to befriend you and tell you all about it, but he’s just making sure.

The last statement confuses you. You have no friends. It’s the first fact anyone at your school knows about you. You’re the student that always keeps to themself with their books, distinguished academically but not much else. Your father frowns when you tell him this and tells you a name, while in the same breath asking if nobody has truly come to you before he said all this.

You recognise the name as a boy who you’ve ignored all throughout the year. You realise that your father probably won’t like it if you tell him you’ve ignored who was supposed to be your... mentor, you supposed (for lack of better term), so you tell him nothing and just shrug, saying you’ll follow it up when you get back for HT.

You never do. In fact, you don’t acknowledge the boy as someone who exists at all, and he does the same to you. You take your A-Levels and get into Oxford to read Theology and Religion and you expect nothing to come out of the heritage you inherited from both of your parents—but then comes the invitation and the initiation. You don’t refuse but neither do you really accept it: you just went along with everything, an almost fatalistic and nihilistic apathy tinging your actions. They give you the name Marcus not knowing that it already is your middle name, purely because of your reputation as an academic, never mind the fact that you don’t really follow the philosophical code championed by Marcus Aurelius. You say nothing about it: you don’t think they’re the sort of crowd to care much for historical accuracy, anyway.

Your membership is one that is at the sidelines. You are an audience member to the theatricality of the whole thing, knowing as you do that every words is blasphemy and realising that your father and mother (holy folk, people called them) have committed idolatry several times over—and that now you will follow in their footsteps: singing hymns to a pantheon that’s now defunct, toasting to spirits that aren’t even there, and committing cruelties that would make the hunting sessions some of your father’s friends go to look tame.

You take part in it, but you don’t believe in it. You believe in nothing, really, and perhaps that’s been your most fatal flaw. You’ve been oversaturated with holiness, with sacredness, with belief—so much that you must have gotten sick of it over time without your knowing, and now you’re condemned to a life half-lived as punishment for a sin you didn’t even know you committed.

It has always been like this, and it always will be like this. 

( So it has been, and so it shall be, forever and ever. )

Interview.

What is your name and what was your relationship like with the deceased? 

the silence that greeted the first question is almost deafening in its suddenness, but marcus has grown used to long silences from long reading sessions in the library with nothing but books to keep them company. they regarded the officer in front of them and blinked slowly, owlishly, almost boorishly. “my name’s john marcus ellis,” they say finally, “but people either call me marcus or ellis.” there was a short pause, as if they were waiting for an acknowledgement of their statement from the officer, but there was no answer forthcoming and they were left to continue their thread of conversation. in the silence that filled the empy space, marcus became all too aware of the soft ticking of their wristwatch—a quick look at the device and they realised that they were going to be late in handing in their old testament paper. “i suppose people will call hardwicke and i friends,” they said at long last, their tone a smidge distracted by their realisation, “but we’re not that close really.” although perhaps some would also say shared membership in a secret society was close enough. then again, marcus didn’t really care what other people thought. “i knew him since we were kids, and he was an associate of mine in eton as well as in oxford, but there’s nothing else to tell you beyond that.”

Can you tell us a little bit about yourself before we start?

they knew, almost detachedly, that they could say a lot of things as an answer to this question, but their mind came up blank. usually, marcus introduced themself simply with their name and, if some odd people still needed clarification, announced their link to their father. it would almost be a proud claiming of a heritage, but the words just fell flat with their deliverance, and it sounded more like a shameful thing rather than a point of pride to be the child of the archbishop of canterbury.

somehow, they realised that such a performance would not be welcome now, and so they struggled to fill the silence. “there’s nothing much to tell,” they say. “i’m just a student at oxford. i don’t really know how i can help you in this investigation of yours, honestly.”

Do you possess a reason we should know about for having murdered the deceased?

"of course not,” they said quickly, and it was true. edward hardwicke never posed a threat to them and whatever political machination that caligula and agrippina tried to wrought upon their group didn’t really interest marcus. they were apathetic in most things, the politics of their secret society simply being but one of the many things that just existed for them but nothing more than that. “hardwicke and i were at the very least amicable.” and this, too, was true, for edward did treat them civilly enough, a behaviour which they mirrored right back until the fateful night that they didn’t.

then again, that was what the authorities would kill to know, wouldn’t they? logically speaking, a profile of a killer must have already been written up by them somehow, and they could just imagine the profile they have right now: esoteric, highly intelligent, familiar with religious symbols, and possessing a connection to edward hardwicke—traits which marcus knew they fulfilled to the letter. 

how amusing to know that the law could be so wrong yet so right at the same time. “i don’t know what to tell you,” they said. “i’ve said all that i can say: i have no reason to kill hardwicke, and that’s it.” this, too, was true; but having no reason didn’t stop them from plunging that knife into his chest anyway.

Did the victim have any enemies? Was anybody threatening the victim?

marcus shrugged, an easy motion of the shoulders that didn’t really come easily to them as much as they like to think it did. “maybe?” they said. “hardwicke’s very well-known in oxford. they’re very active socially and i think they’re in all the political clubs.” a false lead would work well in their favour now, especially when such a lead was likely in the eyes of the authorities. “he can be a bit abrasive and forceful, but i don’t know anyone specifically whom he offended.” they could, of course, drop caligula’s name—and a small part of them did want to, merely to see what repercussions it could hold—but a threat to caligula was a threat to the society, which will ultimately result in a threat against marcus themself. as much as they were curious to see how that potential chain of events might unfold, they had to be smart too.

Can you give us any information that might help the investigation?

"i don’t know,” they said, their voice feigning sheepishness. “as i said, i don’t really know how i can help you, because i really know nothing about the whole thing.” this has been, they realised, the most impassioned they’d been in quite a while. it was a pity, then, that this was in the end just another fabrication, a simulation designed to keep what needs to be secret secret. “in fact, the last time i saw him, it was in a lecture last term about the poetic elements present in the prophetic books. he told me we should catch up during the summer, but i never had time to take him up on his offer.” a pause. “it’s a pity, really.”

Where were you on Sunday morning?

removed to keep the mystery alive.

Extras.

I have a Pinterest board here.

A playlist here.

And a mockblog here.

Their character tag can also be found here. 

And a general tag for Dominus as a whole can be found here.

[richseok]

too good at goodbyes.

prompt: [based loosely on this song.] for many years, you had prided yourself on your ability to see through deception. only now, it caused you more pain than satisfaction. or, all the reasons as to why it’s a bad idea to fall in love with your best friend. 

genre: angst, eventual fluff. themes of the importance of self-love.

word count: 3.100

a/n: enjoy this short and very messy drabble as i get back into the habit of writing. i wanted to write this specifically for those who feel as if they are not good enough or who have been told that they should change for others. remember, only you can be the judge of what you love about yourself. do not be discouraged by those who can not see the beauty of your own flaws.  

The span of your relationship had been built on the foundation of a platonic friendship which had eventually evolved into more romantic aspects. Your years as friends, as you recalled, had been slow-paced and eccentric, the romantic aspect kept hidden in the back of your mind where almost all your fantasies occurred.The slight intertwining of fingers, gentle embraces, and tender glances shared with different intentions; one more intense than the other. Unrequited love had plagued you for years as every moment you shared with him, the more you fell in love with him.

You were not open with your own emotions, in fact, it had been Jeongguk who had initiated the relationship. The two of you had been friends throughout high school; a pair of contrasting individuals unlikely to befriend each other. Your demeanor was cold and aloof, your relationships never long-lasting because of your lack of attachment and inability to tear down your walls. The kids at your school had dubbed you the “Ice Princess,” in their attempts to be witty and original. You had returned their malicious intentions with a high strong attitude and an erected middle finger, to which their mouths would turn agape with horror.

Jeongguk was well-liked and well-versed. An adorable face to match a toned body and a contagious laughter which had many infatuated with him; he was approachable, quite the opposite of intimidating. You had no intentions of befriending boys in your freshman year, especially not ones with gorgeous smiles and imaginative eyes. He was akin to the moon, emotional and lovely and captivating. So, when he had cornered you in the library one evening, books in his hand and a grin planted on his mouth, you were startled.

“You are truly undesirable, Y/N Y/L/N, you know that?” Before the protests had escaped your mouth he had hushed you with a giggle. A giggle. “So undesirable that you are, in fact, desirable!” Jeongguk liked to believe that that was when your friendship had blossomed despite your protests. You two had become inseparable, attached to the hip and everything. For no one had given you the amount of reassurance the Jeongguk had. You helped him with his girl drama, offering him advice on how to swoon even the most stubborn of girls. Eventually, it had proved to be resourceful, as it had resulted in even your emotions being swayed by the charming boy.

Your afternoons were spent at his house studying for tests, the both of you ambitious to receive high marks. Jeonngguk’s room would be bombarded with papers and textbooks containing enough information to cause both of you migraines. He massaged your shoulders while you rubbed your own temples, completely agonized by the upcoming Chemistry exam. He comforted you with motivational words which made you gag, but you didn’t let him see the disgust written on your face. Eventually, you two would continue in silence, the sound of pencils scribbling and pages turning filling the room with white noise. Yet that silence would be disturbed, as Jeongguk would eventually become bored with his homework and decide to ramble about his day. The topics were endless, from what he had had for lunch to the last girl he hooked up. Albeit you would pretend to listen, in order to make him feel better.

“Yeah, there’s this girl in my choir. She’s a complete ditz, you know?” He began. “Let’s people walk all over her it’s kind of pathetic.  But she’s got a nice voice, she just whispers when she sings. She’s the complete shy type.”

“Oh?” You responded, too preoccupied with your equations to take notice of his rambling.

He sighed loudly, flicking eraser bits in your hair to grab your attention. “You think I should talk to her, you know, to not make her feel so lonely in class. All her other friends take different courses so, it would be a pretty kind act.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed out because as much as you loved that boy, you could not let him disturb your concentration with his girl drama.  “Jeongguk, if it really makes you feel better than, yes, talk to her.” Your eyes left the paper to catch him pondering on the subject. He turned his head to avoid your gaze and it was then that you realized his cheeks were tinged red.

Both you and Jeongguk had graduated with honors due to your study dates. You began dating the summer of your graduation, after many advances made on your own part. He was not a fool, but he had been cautious, not wanting to ruin the foundation of a very powerful friendship while also not wanting to break your heart. You sensed his hesitation, but you ignored it, as you were too infatuated with him to care. It would prove to be a terrible mistake on your part, but you just wanted your first love to reciprocate your feelings. Afterall, years of pining could make someone quite unrelenting.

You pulled out your phone, staring at the time which slowly counted down the time you two had left as a couple until it was your voice which broke you two apart. Three years of commitment gone, just because you were too scared to admit the truth that lied ahead of you. Both of you had prolonged the relationship, too afraid to destroy what took years to build. A foundation now cracked with insecurities and awkwardness. You knew that Jeongguk was too afraid to hurt you because, despite it all, he loved you more than anyone. You were as close as a sister, his confidant, his best friend. But nonetheless, you were a lover who was too afraid to completely put her guard down, and Jeongguk was someone who needed his partner’s complete trust. Nonetheless, his love for you never reached past the point of platonic love. These differences pulled and tore your relationship apart until it was no longer salvageable.

You thought for a moment, that maybe if you had only changed for him, would he had fallen in love with you. Perhaps if your words hadn’t had such a bite or your sentences hadn’t dripped in sarcasm would he have seen you more than a mere friend to laugh alongside. Your attitude was so sharp that it was no wonder Jeongguk had looked at her with such loving eyes. She was so kind, soft-hearted, and he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You cursed to yourself, pushing away the nasty thoughts your mind had conjured, wanting to deceive you into thinking you weren’t good enough. Your conscious knew what you had to do, it had whispered to you multiple times that your relationship was only reaching new levels of toxicity.

So, for the sake of your own happiness, you pressed down on his contact, the picture of you two causing tears to spring into your eyes. “Jeongguk, baby, we need to talk.”

….

Perhaps it was your outstanding intuition which told your heart there was something misplaced. The inklings of a planned future now erased and forgotten as your heart tore itself in half. Though it would be worth mentioning that you were not one to let yourself be carried away with your emotions, instead you bottled it all up inside, letting it fizz and bubble until it erupted. So you kept silent for now, muffled your cries with your lips as you drove your car to your dreaded destination. As your warm tears streamed down your face, you felt a great release of stress lifted from your shoulder. God, you thought. I should do that more often. You wiped the smudged makeup under your eyes and re-applied another coat of mascara to make yourself look at least a little presentable.

You let your eyes linger on your reflection, making sure that no tears or contrasts of reds lingered in the whites of your eyes before opening the door and stepping out into the cool air.

You told Jeongguk to meet you at a cafe fifteen minutes away from your home. Neither of you had ventured inside, making it the perfect destination to break up with your boyfriend of three years. After all, what was the point of adding such negative connotations to a place you enjoyed? You approached the cafe slowly, reading the chalkboard sign which read ‘Cherry’s Cafe! Today’s special: The Peppermint Mocha!” You wrinkled your nose at the prospect of the sugary drink and opened the door gently. You were instantly hit with the comforting smell of coffee beans and baked goods and frowned at how cute the area was; it was very lovely indeed. Too bad you wouldn’t visit the area anytime soon after that day.

After you had ordered your coffee, you sat down and took off your coat, waiting for Jeongguk to arrive. To your dismay, he arrived on time. He scanned the area for a moment before his eyes landed on you, and his great goofy smile appeared on his lips. Even after everything, his smile would always send butterflies to your stomach. He approached you and you stood up to greet him with a gentle smile.

“What’s the special occasion?” He asked before swooping down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

You shook your head, beckoning him to sit down across from you. “Just wanted to discuss something with you, that’s all.”

He hummed in response and cast you another smile. “I’m gonna go order something, you want anything?”

“Already ordered for myself, but if you could pick up my coffee, that would be great.”

Jeongguk winks at you as he stands up. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He chuckled at his own pet name for you, but it only left a sour taste in your mouth.

…

“You’ve got to try this, Y/N,” he said whilst scooping a large piece of cake into his mouth. “It’s got the right amount of sweetness! Not too sugary, it’s perfect!” He savored each bite with pleasure as you watched his nose scrunch up in pure bliss. The chocolate lava cake only made you feel sick as you looked upon it; it’s brown icing no longer as appetizing as the minutes passed by. You had no idea how you were to go about your statement, only dreading each passing second and hoping that an entity somewhere in this Godforsaken world would give you the strength to talk it out with him.  

Noticing your silence, Jeongguk raised a spoonful to your mouth, a mischievous glint in his doe eyes. You sighed and shook your head, declining his offer for a taste, to which he frowned and crossed his arms. “Alright, what’s up?”

Your eyes met his, and you saw how his brow quirked up in concern. You felt bile rise up in your throat as you continued to stare into his black, endless eyes, and you had to look away in order to prevent vomit from being spewed all over the table. Your fists tightened on your lap, knuckles turning white and nails digging into your palms, leaving indents on your soft skin. You had almost lost yourself in your thoughts when Jeongguk brought you back into reality.

“Babe, is everything okay?”

You had to say it, or else you would never escape the cycle of pain and unrequited love. Your mouth opened three times. The first, no sound came out, instead, another puff of air. The second, a gasp-like sound, only incoherent noises which left Jeongguk only more confused, The third—

“We should break up,” You said quickly and abruptly.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened in shock. He leaned back into his seat processing your words with a confounded look on his features. The both of you were engulfed in a mutual silence for what seemed minutes until he cleared his throat and looked at you seriously. “May I ask, why?”

Why? You could have provided him with millions of reasons as to what made you come to your decision. You were both exhausted with your relationship. You both had different aspirations, different goals to be met. You both were in love, but not with each other — at least Jeongguk wasn’t in love with you. You did not want to continue a relationship which was unhappy on both ends. Not when he longed to be with someone else. The sex, the kisses, the affection, it all lacked one thing: Love. Neither of you wanted to risk ending your relationship at the expense of your friendship. The situation was vicious and fragile. So you give him a simple answer, truthful and straightforward. “You are in love with someone else.”

His lips tighten and his jaw clenches and his face becomes riddled with one emotion: Shame. “Y/N, I d-don’t know, I can’t even begin to think what’s made you come up with this conclusion.”

“Jeongguk, the one thing about being your best friend is being able to understand every single one of your mannerisms. I know you, Jeongguk. Better than you can imagine, and I know what my best friend looks like when he’s in love. And frankly, that expression was never once bestowed upon me,” you said bluntly and it hurt so much, but you knew that it if you didn’t say what you needed to say, the pain would only prolong.

He closed his eyes and chewed the inside of his cheek before looking at you with eyes filled with sincerity. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

You bit your lip in to prevent the tears which threatened to form. God, you just wanted to get home and cry to your heart’s content. “Jeongguk, I was bound to get hurt from the moment I knew how I felt. There was no preventing it, I just wished I could’ve acknowledged your own emotions sooner.”

He shook his head bitterly and chuckled. “If I could have chosen, you would be the woman I would’ve fallen in love with, without a doubt.”

You cracked a smile and snorted. “Don’t say that.” You curled your fingers around his palm, looking into his eyes with love. The warmth in your chest becoming overwhelming and saddening as you prepared for the final parting. He stared at your face with confusion, sadness nor anger resided in his facial features which only confirmed your theory: he never was truly in love with you. Perhaps he had wanted to escape the relationship for months now, though it was a question you believed was best left unanswered.

“Y/N, you know I still love you—”

“Yes, but it’s not in the way I want you too. We both know this.” He scrunched his brows in apology, no words escaping his lips as he could not come up with a rebuttal. His love was — is — platonic, and while you convinced yourself for many years that that was enough, your heart yearned for him to admit that you were wrong. That his love was as powerful as yours and that he would continue to welcome you home with that large goofy grin of his and kiss your smitten smile.  You sighed heavily, not allowing tears to form in your eyes —- not yet. “I need space, Guk. I need to sort out my own feelings before I can welcome you back into my arms and call you my ‘friend.” Not my boyfriend, just ‘friend’.”

It was that statement which struck a chord with him, his eyes glancing down at his palms which you still held warmly, comforting his icy fingers. “You’re my best friend, you know that right?” You stared down at the lava cake, now cold and soggy with chocolate sauce.

“And you are mine. Just give me time,” you smiled.

He nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. “Find all the time you need. I will always be right here for you, don’t you forget that. ”

You nodded at him avoiding his gaze.

“Oh, and Y/N,” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Thank you for everything and I’m sorry.” With a final kiss to your fingers, he grabbed his coat and left you alone in the booth.

…

Your healing would be gradual, spanning over the months of bitter cold and angry winds. The sadness would grip you with such fervor that even your own happiness seemed impossible. Your anguish was dark, ugly, and stubborn, which resulted in your isolation from those you loved, Jeongguk especially. You considered yourself pathetic for depending so heavily on him, but alas he was your best friend despite it all. Not only that but your first love as well.  You never expected to break your own heart. Be so disappointed and disillusioned with your own hand, that there was no one to blame but the fantasies which burned in your mind — cradling all your dreams and needs which you desired to be true. Yet it is your own suffering which helps you regain your strength.

You begin to realize that the chill of winter was not all bad, In fact, you began to enjoy the nip of the bitter wind and the cool air which pressed against your skin. You saw how the cold did not have to be ugly, and that in fact, it could be beautiful. The winter world which you had created for yourself was no longer destructive and unwanted, but a place filled with self-love and independence. It was exactly how you wanted it to be.

You never stop loving Jeongguk, not completely. Albeit, you find yourself okay with that, as it was impossible to disconnect your feelings without facing any repercussions. Instead, you let yourself fall back into his embrace, and this time, it is purely platonic on both ends. There are times when you find yourself questioning your own feelings, yet as you let yourself open slowly again, you find that his presence as your friend is more than you could ever ask for. He is not your rock, you are your own. You are grounded because of your own hard work, and although Jeongguk is your best friend, he is not your sole source of happiness. He is there for comfort and for mutual comradeship which is okay. You are both happy, and that is all that matters.

Jeongguk would find love, real love, with a wonderful girl he had met many years ago. She would look at him with the same infatuated eyes which you had once given him, except this time his eyes would return the sentiment. You don’t become envious or jealous of their relationship, instead, you help it flourish. You teach her all about Jeongguk quirks and habits, show her the areas of town he liked best, and most importantly, you become her friend as well. You find she is a marvelous a spring day in a world of habitual cold.

But it was no importance of yours to envy her warm persona and tender eyes, as you had finally found the beauty of an icy world.  

[aornff]

All or Nothing  Chapter Twenty Seven

All or Nothing

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Note: I'm heading into endgame on this fic at last, and I would like to mention that I have an archive with all of my most recent fanwork on it as well as original work and if you feel like reading anything else I've written I suggest you try there and see if there's anything you're interested in. Thanks for reading All or Nothing thus far!

https://ptlikestea.dreamwidth.org/

…..

Anna was going on five months pregnant by the time another letter reached Elsa from Agrabah. It confirmed one of her most fervent fears. There were three hairs attached, as always, but she couldn't bear to put them in the book.

Somehow, Merida had known she wouldn't use the book, because she was much more descriptive in her letter than she usually was.

Mirrikh, Sultana Jasmine's grandson, had ridden out ahead of his own forces to meet with her at the palace. Merida said nothing of his looks, only that he seemed like a serious young man. He listened carefully as she explained her situation, and when she was finished he told her of the prophecy that he had been burdened with when he was a child. He was convinced that the two of them were meant to form an alliance, and both had something the other wanted.

Mirrikh had never been to that part of the world before, and he needed to complete his journey. He had amassed an army by defeating and then befriending the captain of every pirate ship in the south seas, as well as endearing himself to the foothill tribes enough for them to send their sons off to journey with him. Between his forces and Merida's loyal men back in Dunbroch, they would have more than enough to retake the country.

She was quick to explain that he had no desire to rule Dunbroch, and that he would sign himself over as the queen's consort once the crown was on her head. He would father her children to ensure her legacy as well as his own, but he would leave often to continue his journey, following the sun to where it set in the evening.

I agreed, Elsa. What else could I do?

As crushed as she was, Elsa supposed she couldn't blame her. If Arendelle had been overtaken in such a way and Anna driven out of her home the way Merida's brothers had been, Elsa thought she might have done the same.

It didn't hurt any less to admit it, though.

…..

When Anna was in her eighth month, Elsa received word that Merida was offshore, on one of Mirrikh's ships. Elsa went to meet her; it would not be anything like as romantic a union as she wanted, as she was accompanied by armed guard and the ship was populated by men.

Still, her heart did a giddy little jump when she saw her again.

She was as lovely as when she'd left Elsa, still pale as the moon despite being so close to the sun for so long, and the smile on her face when she saw Elsa was genuinely thrilled.

“You still have all your arms and legs, I see,” Elsa quipped. “I'm relieved.”

“I might have half a stomach left though,” Merida joked back. “They fed me some awfully strange things in Agrabah.”

Indeed, if she had changed at all she looked a little thinner. Or perhaps it was just the clothes she was wearing; Agrabah's clothing, even draped in many layers, were thin as paper.

They talked for a while, and they were given space to do so. Elsa described Anna's wedding and whispered about her illegitimate pregnancy (to hearty laughter from Merida) and they were just about getting to the part where Mirrikh made his first appearance when the man himself knocked and entered.

Elsa couldn't help it; she stared.

She had expected a large hulking warrior, something like the MacGuffin man had been, or at least a man who had his fair share of battle scars on his face. Instead she saw a long-faced man with hair that reached his waist, a tidy beard and black eyes that glimmered with intelligence. His skin was dark and unlined by age or scars. She could not figure out how old he was, he could have been anywhere from his twenties to a well-preserved fifty.

This is the man she's trusting her fate to.

“I will speak with this queen, yes?” he asked Merida.

“Yes, I suppose,” she shrugged, and rose to her feet. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

He sat at the table across from her, as she tried to keep the ice rising in her blood under control.

“I should give my thanks to you,” he began. His voice lacked the heavy accent of Agrabah, it was instead tinged with something smoother, earthier. “For saving her, and for keeping her from harm. She has said much of you to me.”

“I think anyone in the same position would have done what I did,” Elsa responded.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe not. If you had known then that you would lose your heart to her, would you have done it?”

Elsa froze. A thin sheet of ice crackled along the bench she was sitting on. Surely Merida wouldn't have told him...?

He smiled wryly at the look on her face.

“She has not said anything,” he assured her. “She did not need to. I knew her heart belonged to someone else from the moment I first spoke with her. It is in the prophecy. I could never possess her heart for myself. And I knew the moment I saw you that you love her as much as she loves you.”

She loves me.

Tears stung at the corner of Elsa's eyes. Of all the ways to find out how Merida truly felt about her, learning that she loved her from the man she was going to marry was possibly the cruelest.

“And you don't seem to mind giving up your armies for the sake of a woman that will never love you?” she asked, a touch of bitterness tinging the words.

“I have had a long time to make my peace with it,” he shrugged. “It is prophecized. My true love is the sun, I must follow in its path, always.”

With that, he was gone. If nothing else, he left Elsa with the promise that someday, Merida might be hers and only hers once again.

…..

Anna gave birth to the crown princes in the early hours of an autumn morning. Magnus, the older, was born five minutes before his brother Lennart, making him the official heir to the throne. They were large healthy boys that filled the palace with their bellowing cries from their first moments out of the womb.

Anna took to motherhood surprisingly well. It aged her, in a good way. She was diligent about their feeding and their cleanliness, about the backgrounds and habits of their nursemaids. She even went to their nursery to soothe them when they woke, despite how tired it made her and despite the fact that the palace had hired night nurses for this task.

Kristoff was a happy father, though he seemed nervous around the babies. He seemed to believe he would break them somehow if he held them for too long, though he was always eager to sing to them or coo at them if someone else was holding them.

Elsa, however, was relatively hands off. With small children in the palace she was now ever more aware of how dangerous her powers could be, and babies were unpredictable. She held them little, and left them to the care of her more capable sister and the palace staff. There was little need for her to be very involved in their lives, at least until they were older anyway.

News reached her that the initial force had descended on Dunbroch, after two solid months of laying down plans. Warrick's remaining forces hadn't stood a chance; combined with the home troops that knew the land and Mirrikh's bands of talented pirates, the Angolsi brigade fell like sheaved wheat.

Warrick holed up in the castle, sending out missives begging help from Angols. This was a complication; Angols decided to get involved, for some reason, and sent troops marching into Dunbroch. These were seasoned soldiers, and Angols had always been one of the greater forces to be reckoned with in the world.

However, Dunbroch was unreachable unless you went by sea, and for all the talent the Angolsi troops had on land they were mostly useless in the water. Mirrikh's pirates, with their superior firepower weapons from the far east, destroyed their fleets before they could set foot on Dunbroch. Any soldiers that managed to make it to land were quickly dispatched by the men lying in wait in the forests by the shores.

Warrick was captured, and Merida performed the execution herself. She purposefully wore a white gown to take his head off with her father's broadsword, and managed to do it in one clean stroke. His blood spattered over the white gown, and this was how she took the throne, drenched in the blood of her greatest enemy.

She is Queen Merida of Dunbroch now. We are equals.

Her brothers, halfway towards being men by now, were retrieved from their island hideout and reunited with their sister, to much weeping from everyone involved. With her family returned, she wasted no time in drawing up the contract that stated Mirrikh had no claim on the throne, and they were promptly married. In the letter she sent Elsa, she did not state whether she had worn the bloodied gown when she married Mirrikh, but she liked to think that she had. It served as a handy warning to anyone thinking about crossing her.

Warrick's surviving men were packed off back to Angols, thankful to escape with their lives. It was discovered that he had gotten a young serving girl, a native of Angols, pregnant with a bastard child and when she was called to the throne she begged for her child's life to be spared. Merida gifted her a homestead and enough money to raise her child well, recognizing her as being as much a victim of Warrick as Merida had been.

Rumours flooded the nations, reaching even Arendelle's remote ears. Angols' king was angry, it was said, for Dunbroch's liberation had cast a shadow over the Angols empire. The previous king, the man who had been on the throne when Merida was forcibly married to Warrick, had been known as a patient, prudent man. His son was anything but; he had already absorbed two small nations into his empire in the first year of his reign, and was making noises to the effect that he intended Dunbroch to be next.

This made Elsa nervous. Defeating Warrick was one thing; defeating a nation renowned for its warlike tendencies was quite another. It helped to remind herself that a wisp had brought Merida to Mirrikh, and a dream had brought Mirrikh to Merida. They were together by some sort of external force, something more powerful than a mere nation. If anyone stood a chance of standing against Angols, it was them.

…..

“Mama...” Anna repeated. “You can do it....Mama!”

“Six months is too early, I told you,” Elsa said from behind her stack of paperwork.

“And I told you, he's smart enough to get it,” Anna huffed.

She had brought Lennart into Elsa's office to 'spend some quality auntie time' but so far was just trying to get a baby who wasn't even capable of sitting up straight to form words. Elsa wasn't one to think Anna or Kristoff played favourites with their children, but if they did it was clear that Anna was Lennart's champion. He had a little tuft of white-blonde hair clinging to his otherwise bald head, and Kristoff's eyes. Magnus resembled Anna more, and because he seemed to be a hardier child Kristoff tended to pick him up more than his more delicate brother.

A sharp cry sounded from the window, along with a tapping noise, and Lennart giggled and clapped at the sight of the bird perched on the windowledge.

Lua.

Elsa expected bad news as she opened the window and let the falcon in. Angols had taken them prisoner, or they had lost an important naval battle. When she unfurled the note, she was relieved, though unhappy in another, more private way.

“What does it say?” Anna asked, jostling the baby.

“Merida's pregnant,” Elsa responded, letting the note fall onto her desk.

[mackinmacki]

Down By the Water: Purrfect Partners II (Ch. 1 - The Spring)

Rating: K

Word Count: 3041

Summary: The members of Aqours try to navigate through trying times in what ends up being a very important year at school. Meanwhile, the members of Muse, now having all becomes Guardians, will attempt to keep everything from going off the rails.

Notes:  So I decided to start writing this because it was to be my 100th story on FFN, but there’s been much more than that on here. I still hope you're all able to enjoy it regardless! I’d been wanting to do this since before I finished the original, but obviously that took much longer than I expected (or it should’ve). But hey, here we go!

Link: (FFN) | (AO3)

Chika was laying down on the beach, her arms above her head as she held her phone aloft. On the screen were three girls dancing on a stage to slickly-produced electro-pop beats. Their outfits were outlandish, yet appealing to the eye. They moved so flawlessly with each other, every step having been carefully coordinated. While the moves themselves were different, she felt a sense of familiarity after all those times she had watched Kanan practicing her own dancing. It was the kind of talent she wished that she had worked on back then. School idols were really something.

The beach was so calm in the evenings. Not a lot of people were there, allowing Chika to relax without interruption. The tinge of salt that arrived on the air from the water was a friend she had long ago gotten used to. She loved everything about her quaint little seaside town. The big city was big and bright, but there was something to be said for a place where everybody knew each other by their first names. That didn't mean she couldn't dream...

Lately she'd been having dreams of dancing on stage in front of huge audiences, just like the girls in the videos she watched. It was the dreams that made her start watching the videos, in fact, and made her really start thinking about school idols. Even when Kanan had been in her own idol group, she'd only given it general appreciation, and that was just because her friend was in it. This was different, though. She no longer felt like sitting on the sidelines, watching and supporting her friends. Now she wanted to make her own idol group.

It just seemed so exciting. Sometimes she'd daydream about dancing next to Kanan's group, Aqours, and being part of the idol experience. That's all it was, though: a dream. Not only had Aqours broken up, but even mentioning idols now made Kanan noticeably annoyed. At this point, Chika knew better than to speak about things like that in her presence. It was kind of frustrating, though. Now that she had finally come around to being super excited about idols, Kanan chose to clam up about the whole enterprise. She understood, but... it was still a little annoying.

When the video ended, Chika sighed and sat up, sand clinging to the back of her shirt. Things just weren't the same anymore, and it sucked. There was always underlying tension, and even if Kanan tried to hide it, she knew it was there. She could feel it in the air, but nobody ever wanted to talk about it. Even You felt it was best to just let sleeping dogs lie. That was the most frustrating thing of all, though! She wanted to wake those sleeping dogs and make something happen!

Speaking of dogs... Chika stood up and tried to wipe the sand off of her back, but stopped when she saw something in her peripheral vision. When she turned to look at it, she saw that it was a big, orange dog. It was just sitting on the beach, staring at her. Or at least staring her way. She tilted her head slightly, and the dog mimicked her action. Confused, she took a step towards it, then another. The dog didn't move. In fact, it didn't do anything but just watch her as she approached. It was sort of creepy. There was almost no movement at all until she got close enough to where she could pet it. Then it jumped up and started padding away from her.

"Hey, wait!" She called out, but the dog didn't stop, so she began to follow it. There didn't seem to be a collar on it, so it might've been a stray. Or perhaps it was someone's pet, but it had slipped out of its collar. Either way, it would be best if she called animal control. Still, she found herself following it, curious about where it was going, and why it hadn't ran away upon her initial approach.

They both ended up by a dock, where someone else was standing without realizing she now had company. Chika found her attention diverted from the dog and towards the strange girl with the pretty red hair. She'd never seen her around before, and she looked to be around her age. Was she new to town? What was she doing there? Then she moved slightly, like she was taking a deep breath, before unbuttoning her skirt. "Wh-What the heck?!"

She was wearing a bathing suit underneath, but that freaked Chika out for a second. Then she realized what the girl was going to do, and she freaked out all over again. "Wait, stop!" Her phone fell from her hands and into the sand due to her shock. Forgetting about the dog, she ran through the sand and towards the dock, trying to stop the girl before she plunged herself into the still-chilled ocean. Before she got there, however, the girl started to run down the dock with a loud shout. "Wait!"

The girl had nearly plunged off the dock before Chika grabbed her hand, pulling back with all her might to keep them both upright. Clearly having not expected to be interrupted, the girl looked back at Chika. Their eyes met, and Chika felt like her breath had been taken away. That momentary lapse caused her footing to loosen, and with a screech both of them plunged into the ocean.

"C-Cold!" The new girl shouted out as soon as she came back up, with Chika right behind her.

"Y-You think?!" Chika had not been wearing a bathing suit, so now her normal clothes were soaked. That made her pout at the redhead, but she was back to being curious once they both swam back to shore and fell upon the sand. "Why did you try to jump into the water?"

"I..." The girl started to blush, embarrassed about her actions. Rather, she was embarrassed that someone caught her, and was surely judging her. "I was trying to find the sound of the ocean." She hadn't meant for the truth - the silly, strange-sounding truth - to spill out, but there it went. Surely this girl wouldn't understand what she was talking about. Still, she leaned in closer, her eyes burning with curiosity.

"The sound of the ocean? Like the waves crashing or something?"

"Not... exactly." She rubbed her arm nervously, avoiding eye contact. It was something that was really difficult to explain. "I wanted to... write a composition about the ocean, but I don't know too much about it since I just moved here. So I wanted to... get up close and personal, I guess?" She was sure that would continue to be confusing, but it seemed to switch a light on in her attempted savior's eyes instead.

"Ooh, you play an instrument? That's cool!" Chika smiled brightly as she got into the girl's personal space, making her back up a bit. "What instrument is it?"

"The piano..."

"Awesome! I can't play any instruments, but it seems tough. You must have a lot of skill!" That seemed to immediately cause a change in the girl, who shrunk down with a suddenly miserable expression on her face. "Woah, is everything alright? Did I say something bad?"

"No, it's... it's nothing." She looked away, leaving an awkward silence between them. "I'm... I'm Riko. Sakurauchi Riko."

"I'm Takami Chika!" Chika was relieved that the sudden awkwardness was gone, and she was happy to get the name of the new girl. "Since you're new here, I can show you around sometime! If you want, that is." She still wasn't looking at Chika, but she could see a small smile forming on her face. "Is that a yes?"

"Well... maybe." Riko giggled, pushing herself onto her feet. "How about when I get settled in? I still need to help my parents unpack."

"Okay!" Her earlier thoughts about idols and the past had been chased out of her mind, replaced by the excitement of meeting a new person. Riko... She was cute! Hopefully they were the same age, so that they could be in the same class together. Wait until You found out! First things first, though: they needed to get home. Riko went over to the dock, grabbing the towel she'd brought with her to dry off. "So are you going to Uranohoshi High?"

"Yes. I'm a second year." When Riko turned to dry off her legs, Chika silently pumped her fist in the air. Same school, same grade. Excellent! Things were looking up today.

Eventually, Riko finished drying herself off and got dressed, the two of them starting to leave the beach together. It was only then that Chika remembered the strange dog. She looked back at the spot she had seen it last, but there was nothing there. Scanning the beach, there was no sign of the dog anywhere. It must've ran off when Chika tried to save Riko. Oh well. It must've gone back to its owner. There were more important things to do, like trying to eye Riko without it being extremely noticeable.

Things had been going a lot faster than Riko had anticipated. She'd only just moved to Uchiura, and already she had befriended a rambunctious girl named Chika. They'd met completely by chance, yet the coincidences kept on coming when it turned out that Riko had moved in right next door. Chika had been irrepressibly excited, and immediately rushed to the balcony so they could both keep talking across the way. It had been fun, since Chika had enough topics to talk about for the both of them, but it had definitely distracted her. Enough to where she nearly forgot to help with the unpacking.

Thankfully she hadn't gotten in any trouble. Her mom was actually happy that she'd found a friend so quickly. It was secretly relieving to Riko as well. She'd dreaded the thought of trying to make new friends in a place where everybody was surely already so tightly bonded, but it seemed that things wouldn't be as difficult as she'd predicted. Chika hadn't even hesitated to call them friends so soon after meeting. The thought brought a smile to Riko's face.

That smile, however, soon disappeared when she returned to her room and found herself staring at her piano. The movers had quite the time getting it in the room, having to maneuver it from the balcony. Now it stood in the corner, almost as if it was taunting Riko. She shuddered, turning away from it, but she felt as if it was still staring at her. Maybe she should've insisted it go in the living room instead. That'd be the perfect place to entertain guests, or never play it ever again.

She'd had this idea of creating a composition based on the ocean. Now that she was living so close to it, maybe it'd help her get better acquainted with her new town, along with returning her to the instrument she used to love so much. It'd been a crazy idea, though. She'd learned nothing from foolishly throwing herself - and Chika - into the water. How did she even think that was a good idea? This was just a waste of time.

Sighing to herself, Riko pulled her glass door aside and stepped onto the balcony, letting the night air chill her. She went over and put her hands on the railing, looking over towards Chika's side. Light was visible through the slit between the curtains, but they were closed. Chika was probably busy. Too busy to come outside randomly to see if her new neighbor was dealing with mental issues. She was glad she didn't say these things out loud. Otherwise she'd be immediately branded as the weirdo from the big city.

Turning away from the balcony, she stared up at the moon, taking a deep breath. She wished that they didn't have to move to Uchiura. Not that it wasn't nice, but Tokyo was nice too. She missed it, with all the familiar places she knew and loved, plus the few friends she'd made at school. They were all left behind, and if she was honest with herself, nobody probably even missed her. Life was going to continue on, even without her being there. That certainly didn't make her feel any better. God, she had issues.

It would've been different if she wasn't such a failure. She knew that to be undisputed fact. Out of all of the things in the world that she could've failed at, it wasn't supposed to be something she was good at. All she had was that one talent, that one skill she'd worked so hard to get better in, and she'd watched all that work blow up in her face. So much for that...

Things could be different now, though. Nobody here knew who she was back in Tokyo, so she could craft a new life for herself. That was one thought that comforted her, at least a little. All of the mistakes she made in the past didn't have to affect her here. She didn't even have to play the piano anymore. It could be given up... if she hadn't told Chika that she played the piano. Why had she done that? Riko banged her fist against the railing in frustration, mentally berating herself.

It was at that low point, glancing down at the street, when she saw a cat staring back at her. Its fur seemed to glow scarlet beneath the streetlamps, and it made Riko feel weird. Had it been watching her the whole time? No, it couldn't have been. It was just a cat. Maybe it was just wandering around looking for food and had just happened to stop there, where Riko just happened to be contemplating her failures. That made the most sense.

They held eye contact - or what Riko assumed was eye contact - until she realized how utterly ridiculous the whole situation was. Sighing again, she looked away and slunk back into her room, shutting the door and shuffling over to her bed. She fell onto it, face first, and decided she might as well wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night. That was now her best skill. Why did she have to mess everything up?

Outside, the cat stood there for a few moments longer, staring up at the now-empty balcony. Then it twitched its left ear and walked away.

Apparently having solemn nighttime contemplation on one's balcony was contagious in Uchiura. Though for You, there weren't any friendly neighbors for her to even consider talking to about her problems. The one person she could talk to above all others, she couldn't even speak to them about this. How could she tell Chika about how she was feeling when the feelings were caused by Chika herself?

She'd spent several years either ignoring the feelings or outright denying them, but she couldn't really deny them any longer. After almost a lifetime of being best friends with Chika, her feelings had grown beyond 'just friends'. There was more that she wanted, things that being just friends wouldn't satisfy. The thought of admitting these things to Chika, however, terrified her. What if she said no? It would damage their friendship, not to mention absolutely crush You. She couldn't do it.

Then she got the texts from Chika earlier that day. She'd met someone on the beach named Riko, and she was in their grade. Apparently she'd sneaked a picture of her, considering that Riko wasn't looking at the camera, to show You. She had to admit that Riko was pretty, just as Chika said. Thinking it was one thing, though. Seeing Chika say it out loud... via text, anyway... that hurt. It made her stomach churn to think about Chika having these thoughts about someone else. Especially a girl she had just met!

It made her feel like now was the time to do something. If she didn't do anything, Chika would surely become obsessed with Riko. That was just what Chika did. When she got fixated on something, she wouldn't let it go and would talk about it constantly. Idols had become her new fixation, but if it became Riko... You didn't know how she'd be able to live with that.

She pounded her fist against the railing, having made up her mind. No matter how scared she was, she needed to tell Chika the truth about how she felt as soon as possible. If she didn't, then it would be too late. She could do this, she could do this... Oh, how was she going to do this? It was the most terrifying thing she'd ever convinced herself to do!

Slumping against the railing, she sighed and looked up at the sky. Around her block, a lone bird flew against the gloom. Funny: she couldn't remember ever seeing a bird like that flying around during the night. It didn't seem interested in leaving the area either. Rather, it just kept to the same block, always in You's sight. Maybe it was a sign. She wasn't sure what kind of sign it might be, but it was something. Maybe it was good, and that this was the right thing to do.

She smiled and adjusted her glasses, curling her hands into fists. This was going to be fine. She could do it. Tomorrow was the first day of school, after all. It would be time for new beginnings. The beginning of a life where she could be dating Chika... That's all she wanted in life.

"Yousoro!" She slapped her cheeks to psyche herself up, then went back inside to get ready for bed. Her entire being was so amped up, though, and sleep didn't come easy for her. It felt like it took forever to finally fall asleep, and her dreams were too chaotic to get a good grip on. She kept feeling like she was being sucked down by quicksand, only to be spit back out into the same terrifying scenario: Chika not returning her feelings.

When she woke up the next morning, she felt exhausted and more unsure than she had the previous night. "What do I do..."

[blackkudos]

Harold Ford

Harold Eugene Ford Jr. (born May 11, 1970) is an American politician who was a Democratic Party member of the United States House of Representatives from Tennessee's 9th congressional district, centered in Memphis, from 1997 to 2007. Ford did not seek re-election to his House seat in 2006 when he unsuccessfully sought the Senate seat vacated by retiring Bill Frist. Ford was the last chairman of the Democratic Leadership Council (DLC).

Family and education

Ford is the son of former Congressman Harold Ford Sr. and Dorothy Bowles Ford. His family has long been prominent in Memphis' African-American community. His grandfather had established his own business, a funeral home, which gave them a broad network in the community. E.H. Crump, a prominent white Democrat, dominated city and state politics in the early 20th century and befriended Harold Ford Jr.'s grandfather, N.J. Ford.

Ford lived the first years of his life within the living quarters of his family-owned business N.J. Ford And Sons Funeral Home, which at the time was located in the Riverside neighborhood. He was baptized at his family church, Mt. Moriah-East Baptist Church. He attended Double Tree Elementary School, a public Montessori school in the Westwood neighborhood and he graduated from the private St. Albans School for Boys, a prestigious university-preparatory school in Washington, D.C., which he attended after his father became a Congressman. The younger Ford earned a B.A. in American history from the University of Pennsylvania in 1992.

Early career and law degree

After graduation Ford went into the government, serving as a staff aide to the Senate Budget Committee. In 1993 he became special assistant at the United States Department of Commerce.

Ford returned to college for a J.D. from the University of Michigan Law School in 1996. During his campaign for the House of Representatives, he sat for and failed the Tennessee bar exam; he has said that he intends to try again.

Ford is married to Emily Threlkeld, who works in public relations for Carolina Herrera in New York. They married on April 26, 2008.

House of Representatives career

When Harold Sr. decided not to seek a 12th term in Congress in 1996, Harold Jr. entered the race and became the favorite in the Democratic primary, which was widely regarded as the real contest in the heavily Democratic, black-majority 9th district. Ford arranged his schedule for his last semester of law school so he would not have Monday or Friday classes and would be able to fly home to Memphis for an extended weekend each week to continue his campaign. As was expected, he easily won the Democratic primary, followed by his election in November. Taking office at the age of 26, he was one of the youngest members of Congress in US history and the youngest in the 105th and 106th Congresses. He was reelected four times without substantive Republican opposition, by an average of 80 percent of the vote. In 2000, Ford was the keynote speaker for the 2000 Democratic National Convention supporting then Vice President Al Gore for the Democratic nomination for President.

On November 4, 1999, Ford voted in favor of the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act, which some economists, including Nobel laureate Joseph Stiglitz, believe helped create the 2007 financial crisis.

On October 10, 2002, he was among the 81 House Democrats who voted in favor of authorizing the invasion of Iraq.

After the Democrats lost seven Congressional seats in the 2002 elections, Ford announced his candidacy for House Democratic Leader, challenging then-House Minority Whip Nancy Pelosi, arguing that current leadership was ineffective. Ford was defeated but exceeded initial expectations in the amount of support he received. Although his name was mentioned as a possible Democratic vice presidential candidate in 2004, he was ineligible for the office due to his age (four months shy of 35 on Inauguration Day 2005).

A June 7, 2005, article in The Washington Times reported that from 1998 to 2003, Ford took 61 privately funded trips but did not file travel disclosure forms with the House clerk for the trips, as required by the chamber's ethics rules, until August 2003. Ford's office called the late filings a "mere oversight", since Ford had filed the required financial disclosure statements for the trips at the time they occurred.

In November 2005, when Ohio Republican Congresswoman Jean Schmidt implied that Pennsylvania Democrat John Murtha was a "coward" in response to Murtha's proposal for a withdrawal of American forces from Iraq, Ford charged across the House floor to the Republican side during the resulting uproar in the chamber, shouting "Say it to Murtha!" (or "Say Murtha's name!" depending on the source) while waving his finger at Schmidt. He had to be restrained by fellow Democrat Dave Obey of Wisconsin. Like many Democrats, Ford believed Schmidt's remarks (which she later withdrew) were an unwarranted "cheap shot" against Murtha, a veteran of the Marine Corps.

In Congress, Ford opposed benefits for same-sex couples and supported the Federal Marriage Amendment, which would have defined marriage as one man and one woman. He told Democrats they should be more supportive of the Iraq War, and criticized Senate Democrats who attempted to filibuster the nomination of Samuel Alito. He was one of the few Democrats who voted for the bankruptcy bill, and he defined himself as a pro-life candidate, supporting some restrictions on abortion, including a ban on intact dilation and extraction, called "partial-birth abortion" by opponents. However, the National Right to Life Committee says that while in Congress he voted against the pro-life position 87% of the time. He supported the Republican effort to intercede in the Terri Schiavo case. He opposed President George W. Bush's energy proposals (including oil drilling in Arctic National Wildlife Refuge), demonstrated support for adoption rights of same-sex couples, is in favor of federal funding of embryonic stem cell research, supported universal healthcare coverage, opposed the death penalty and indicated a willingness to reform drug policy.

In addition, Ford sat on the House Budget Committee and the House Committee on Financial Services. He also served on the Transformation Advisory Group, a group of political, military and academic leaders who worked with the Department of Defense to assess the needs of the armed forces. Ford was a member of the New Democrat Coalition, the Congressional Black Caucus and the Blue Dog Coalition.

In 2002, Ford was mentioned as a possible Democratic candidate for the Senate seat being vacated by Fred Thompson, but he declined to run. Instead, he supported fellow Congressman Bob Clement who would lose to former Republican Governor Lamar Alexander in the general election.

In 2006, Ford did not run for re-election to the House of Representatives, due to his campaign for the United States Senate in Tennessee, which he lost. His younger brother, Jake Ford, ran for the 9th district seat as an Independent, but lost to Democrat Steve Cohen.

2006 Tennessee Senate campaign

On April 6, 2005, during an interview on C-SPAN's call-in show Washington Journal, Ford confirmed that he would be running for the Senate. He filed the papers necessary to officially begin his Senate campaign on May 25, 2005.

Democratic State Senator Rosalind Kurita briefly challenged Ford for the nomination but dropped out of the primary because of inadequate fundraising, effectively handing Ford the nomination. On August 3, 2006, Ford overwhelmingly won the Democratic primary. After the primary, Ford's supporters held a large victory celebration at Nashville's LP Field. Among the speakers was former U.S. President Bill Clinton.

Ford faced Republican Bob Corker in the November 2006 election. Not long after Corker's primary victory was assured, Ford challenged Corker to seven televised debates across the state. In response, Corker said he would debate Ford, though he did not agree to seven debates.

In October 2006, the Republican Party ran radio and television ads characterized by some as racially tinged. A radio spot, referred to by critics as the "jungle drums" ad, had drums playing when Ford's name was mentioned and patriotic music when Corker's name was spoken. This ad was criticized as attacking Ford's race by evoking images of primitive, chanting African tribes. A television ad that received more attention featured satirical "man‑on‑the‑street" interviews purporting to support Ford, including one in which a blond white woman talks about meeting Ford at "the Playboy party"; she returns at the end of the ad to wink and whisper "Harold, call me." The ad was denounced by many people, including Republican former Senator William Cohen, who called it "a very serious appeal to a racist sentiment", and Corker asked the Republican leadership to pull the ad. The ad was retired one day after Republican National Committee Chairman Ken Mehlman said he had no authority to discontinue the ad and disagreed with the negative characterizations of it.

Corker and Ford participated in a televised debate in Memphis on October 7, in Corker's hometown of Chattanooga on October 10, and in Nashville on October 28. In January 2006, NBC's Meet the Press extended an open invitation for the candidates to debate on the nationally-televised show.

On November 8, Ford conceded the election to Corker, who defeated Ford by less than three percentage points.

Post-election activities

In December 2006, the Los Angeles Times reported that Ford told students at an L.A.-area school that he might run again in 2008 for the Senate seat held by Republican Lamar Alexander, but in January 2007 Ford said that he had no plans to challenge the incumbent. Instead, Ford has said that he "hopes to spend a lot of time at home, perhaps do some teaching and work with Governor Bredesen on some issues in Tennessee."

On January 25, 2007, Ford was named chairman of the Democratic Leadership Council.

In March 2007, Ford joined the financial services firm Merrill Lynch as a vice chairman and senior policy adviser. In the same month he was hired by Fox News Channel as a political contributor. In March 2008, he moved from Fox to MSNBC as a news analyst, appearing as a panelist on David Gregory's Race for the White House, Hardball, and Morning Joe.

Ford was appointed visiting professor of public policy at Vanderbilt University in 2007 and taught a class on American political leadership. In October 2007, Ford was appointed as the inaugural Barbara Jordan Visiting Professor at the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas at Austin. As of the spring 2010 semester, he is a visiting professor at New York University's Wagner School of Public Service where he teaches Policy Formation: U.S. Domestic Policy.In the fall of 2015 he was a visiting faculty member at the University of Michigan Ford School of Public Policy.

Ford works at the Wall Street firm Morgan Stanley as a Managing Director.

Ford is on the Board of Selectors of Jefferson Awards for Public Service.

2010 New York Senate Election

Ford considered a primary challenge to Senator Kirsten Gillibrand in New York in 2010. Sources close to Mayor Michael Bloomberg of New York have said that he would consider supporting someone "of Mr. Ford's stature". However, it was also reported that Mayor Bloomberg "reassured Mr. Reid that he was not personally involved in the effort to promote a Ford candidacy." Chuck Schumer sought to dissuade Ford from running. Ford's spokesperson on January 11, 2010, stated Ford had become a supporter of same-sex marriage after "listening to the debate in state legislatures across the country".

On February 5, 2010, Gillibrand held a press conference at which she raised questions as to whether Ford, as an executive of Merril Lynch, received taxpayer-backed bonuses from Bank of America, stemming from the federal bailout. She was joined by New York City Public Advocate Bill de Blasio, who endorsed her candidacy.

On February 12, it was reported that Ford's NBC contract was suspended due to his potential campaign, and that he had taken an unpaid leave of absence from Merrill Lynch for the same reason. On March 1, Ford stated in an op-ed article published by The New York Times that he would not run against Gillibrand.

Electoral history

*Write-in and minor candidate notes: In 1996, Mary D. Taylor received 498 votes; Anthony Burton received 424 votes; Greg Voehringer received 327 votes; Tom Jeanette received 222 votes; Del Gill received 199 votes; Bill Taylor received 179 votes; Johnny E. Kelly received 156 votes; Don Fox received 146 votes; and write-ins received 10 votes. In 1998, Johnny Kelly received 775 votes; Greg Voehringer received 567 votes; and write-ins received 2 votes. In 2000, write-ins received 36 votes. In 2002, write-ins received 148 votes. In 2004, Jim Maynard received 166 votes.

2006 Democratic Primary for U.S. Senate (TN)

Harold Ford Jr., 79%

Gary G. Davis, 10%

John Jay Hooker, 6%

*Write-in and minor candidate notes: In 2006, David "None of the Above" Gatchell received 3,746 votes, Emory "Bo" Heyward received 3,580 votes, H. Gary Keplinger received 3,033 votes and Chris Lugo (Green) received 2,589 votes.

Wikipedia

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Best Christmas movies: 10 best Xmas films to stream these holidays

Ho ho ho! It's that time of year again! You know, the time where families all around Australia get together to eat, drink, be merry, open presents and suffer through the sweltering summer heat while watching winter-set Christmas movies! 

Now, thanks to the magic of streaming, it's possible to watch a number of classic holiday movies on demand – right from the air-conditioned comfort of your living room. It's a Christmas miracle!

To make this the most holly jolly Xmas ever, we've taken the liberty of browsing Netflix, Stan, Amazon Prime Video and Foxtel Now in order to curate the perfect list of seasonal films to watch these holidays. Without further ado, here are the best Christmas-themed movies currently streaming in Australia. 

Don't like Christmas movies? These are the best movies on Netflix Australia

Christmas gift ideas 2017: the best tech gifts in Australia for every budget

Every year around this time, people continue to ask the very easy to answer question: is Die Hard a Christmas movie? The answer, obviously, is yes. Bruce Willis stars as John McClane, a New York cop who travels over to Los Angeles to spend Christmas with the family he's separated from. While visiting his wife's Christmas party in the Nakatomi Plaza, a group of terrorists take the building under siege, and now, it's up to John to save everybody. A definitive action classic, Die Hard sits alongside Lethal Weapon as one of the best holiday-set action movies ever made. 

Die Hard is available on Foxtel Now

Will Ferrell is delightful as Buddy, a human raised by Elves who travels from the North Pole to New York in an effort to reunite with his biological father, played here by James Caan. It's also from director Jon Favreau (Iron Man, The Jungle Book), so this isn't your usual throwaway Christmas comedy. Both silly and moving, Elf is the kind of Christmas movie that everyone in the family can enjoy. 

Elf is available on Netflix

Billy Bob Thornton isn't your ordinary Santa. In fact, the guy he plays here is a total scumbag in pretty much every sense of the word – which is what makes him so hilarious when dealing with impressionable children! Things start to change (slightly) when he meets a troubled kid who could do with a role model. Crass and not for the easily offended, Bad Santa is the perfect Christmas movie for people who hate Christmas movies.

Bad Santa is available on Netflix

The film that (briefly) made Macaulay Culkin a star, Home Alone is one of the most fun and inventive Christmas movies ever made. When the McCallister family accidentally leaves him at home for the Christmas holidays, Kevin (Culkin) thinks his wishes have come true. Though he initially loves that his annoying family isn't around, that joy is short-lived – a pair of burglars called the Wet Bandits have plans on robbing his home, and now Kevin must get creative and booby trap his entire home in order to keep them out. 

Home Alone is available on Foxtel Now

Starring the legendary entertainer Bing Crosby, you'd be forgiven for thinking that his classic song, White Christmas, was made for this film. In fact, that song was released 12 years earlier, showing just how much of a lasting impact the song has enjoyed since its release in 1942. A wonderful musical comedy for the whole family, White Christmas is the very definition of a classic Xmas movie.

White Christmas is available on Netflix

Considered one of the greatest films ever made, Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life is perhaps the most beloved Christmas movie of all. James Stewart plays a depressed businessman who wishes he'd never been born at all. An angel hears his wish, and decides to show him what life would be like for his family and friends if he'd never existed at all. At once terribly sad and then tremendously heartwarming, It's a Wonderful Life is impossible to dislike.

It's a Wonderful Life is available on Amazon Prime Video

Loosely based on Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, Scrooged sees Bill Murray do what he does best: play a hilarious jerk who eventually learns how to be a good person. While not immediately loved at the time of its release (a large part is due to its humour being quite silly), it has since developed a bit of a following, with people realising that Bill Murray is simply great at this kind of thing. Funny and touching.

Scrooged is available on Netflix

The Brits are great at Christmas-set romantic comedies (see The Holiday), but their best and most memorable is arguably Love Actually, which is from the makers of Four Weddings and a Funeral and Notting Hill. The film follows eight different couples living in London in the lead up to Christmas, each with their own love-based entanglements to deal with. A hilarious and sweet Christmas flick. Watch it with someone you love.

Love Actually is available on Stan

Not every Christmas movie is a jolly ol' time! On the contrary, some people want their holiday movies tinged with horror. For those unfamiliar with the folkloric figure known as Krampus, this half-goat, half-demon is like the opposite of Santa Claus, in that he punishes naughty children by eating them. Starring Adam Scott (Parks and Recreation) and Toni Collette (Muriel's Wedding), Krampus does have a slight comedic tone at times, but don't be fooled – this is one scary flick with a killer ending. Maybe send the kids to bed before watching this one!

Krampus is available on Netflix

Not in Australia? Here are the best Christmas movies and TV shows on Netflix UK

The stories of Dr Seuss hold a special place in the hearts of many generations, and this adaptation of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is a spot-on take on this classic material. As the titular Grinch, Jim Carrey gives one of his most memorable performances under an enormous amount of makeup and in a huge furry green costume. Though the Grinch spends his time trying to make the citizens of Whoville miserable, a young girl (Taylor Momsen) attempts to befriend this monster to melt his frozen heart. A fantastic and family-friendly Christmas movie. 

Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas is available on Amazon Prime Video

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[houseinva]

The Narc

My first experience in finding “love” turned out to be the biggest con act and disaster I’d ever encountered. The relationship harmed my health, it killed my spirits, and it left my forward thinking at a stand-still.

My life was a joke, it was; I’d been dealt some of the world’s worst odds in being the HIV nurse who got HIV from his first boyfriend after several tests. Only life’s brutal irony kicked me in the ass again with my second chance in finding love, leaving my first looking like Disney World.

For the first 6 months after my diagnosis, I didn’t leave my home except for work, doctor appointments, groceries and other basic, mundane life requirements. I isolated myself from those I knew, becoming all the more lonely and vulnerable. I felt ashamed by what happened to me, I felt so embarrassed with how my life tanked miserably, and I began avoiding friends and family, viewing myself as a failure and not wanting to even be seen.

John, a neighbor a few doors down, ended up befriending me. John was the polar opposite of me: he’d always lived on the edge, the more reckless, the better,and boy did he love throwing caution to the wind. John partied and drank like a superstar, and anything addictive – you name it – from scratch-offs to ripping something off via 5-finger discount – as long as it involved a rush of adrenaline or dopamine, he was always game for it. I could tell that John felt bad for my recent predicament, and so he made a point of inviting me out with him and his small gaggle of gays, it was an interesting bunch: there was the deaf gay, there was one that looked like George Costanza, another seemed to be the twin of Grimace from McDonald’s, and new to the addition was yours truly.

Aside from meeting John and his little gaggle of gays, that was the extent of my outward growth in the friend scene. I didn’t make another friend for several months. Then again, sitting around, alone by myself, isn’t exactly the best way to meet new people. Then one Saturday I met Ben, and my life changed in so many ways. Ben was this mellow, kind, soft-spoken and sincere guy, at least that’s how he seemed initially. We both had a past history of relationship abusie as well as HIV; we had lots in common, we hit it off rather well, and the relationship progressed naturally from there.

While John was definitely living on the legal edge of life, pushing the envelope as my jaw continued to drop, it was actually Ben who corrupted me more than anyone in my history, hands down.

Ben was a staunch supporter of doing whatever was viewed as bad, as antisocial; lying, cheating, not being monogamous were the concepts he could relate to best. His interest lied in all the things most consider wrong or at least would approach with caution, whereas Ben just give a wicket grin while managing to beat the odds and indulging himself in the bad stuff.

Ben was the most sexually liberal person I’d met so far, his past experiences in a week were more than mine in a lifetime. So Ben sought out to be my “mentor” in this new “anything goes” side of the gay universe except little did I know what that actually entailed. While I’d been slightly exposed to the “dark side” with my ex, Ben vowed to do a better job as my tour guide. Only Ben actually wound up showing me even darker sides than I’d anticipated.

But I was game for whatever at that point, and for some reason, I always trusted Ben to have my back. After all – I had HIV now – the Rolls Royce of all STD’s – so there wasn’t much else to fear at this point, right? It’s not like there are that many psychopaths running amok in the world, hunting for guys like me to mislead, manipulate and destroy. What were the odds of that happening to me again? Odds like that don’t exist, come on!. So I figured it was safe to proceed and let down my guard a bit, allowing Ben to take the wheel:

“The coast is clear, so that means its smooth sailing from here on out!”

Ben would go on to credit himself for breaking me into this lifestyle like it was an honor, like he was the ultimate instructor, doing me some huge favor:

“You lucked out, you had me to break you in!”

Only it wasn’t luck at all, it was more like an insidious curse. In fact, it might be the most cruel, inhumane and exploitative creation I’ve ever heard of. Or perhaps I’m wrong, and that’s just an understatement…

          Idealization 2: Fall, 2014

Ben and I hit it off well from the moment we met, he seemed to really “get” me from the start; he entered my life at my lowest of the lows, he was surprisingly understanding, and he treated me so well that I felt like I had my life back. He knew what topics were still too painfully fresh and avoided them, and he left me feeling at peace at least.

For the first time since acquiring HIV, I forget I even had the virus thanks to our chance meeting.  Ben sure made for an incredible escape: he gave me hope, he  was an inspiration and role model; I felt blessed to have found him. The relationship didn’t move at the speed of light like it did with my ex, although it didn’t move at a snail’s pace either. Maybe a a month after meeting, we were spending the majority of our weekend time together. At the 2-month mark, Ben had his own set of toiletries sitting in my bathroom. There was no talk of moving in, I wasn’t about to repeat the mistakes I made with my ex; it just so happened that Ben had a roommate who he wasn’t getting along with, I lived close to Ben’s work, and so a few nights a week he’d stay over at my place instead. The more time that passed, the stronger the bond grew between us. He was so chill, so mild-mannered, and even seemed to be in awe of me at times. He always said I was “wicked genius,” it was my mind that he found my most attractive feature. I loved the sound of that…

      Meeting Ben gave me a whole new outlook on life:  no longer felt like an outcast, I no longer felt embarrassed 24-7, I was no longer fixated on my dilemma like I had been in the months prior. I knew this no longer meant being stuck alone in life with this stigmatizing illness, I was in good company now. I felt like the connection we had was so strong that it was almost worth this HIV infection, as crazy as that may read. While Ben was quiet and hid his emotions, always appearing rather stoic and serious, I soon discovered he had another side that was very bold; I soon learned that my feelers were incorrect in thinking he was humble. When it came to the gay world and sex in general, he was beyond confident, he was self-assured and extremely comfortable, he didn’t view anyone or anything as being out of reach, and he didn’t treat HIV as a handicap, in fact, to him it was a non-issue. His peaceful demeanor seemed to shy away from drama, as he always remained calm and collect, no matter what. Ben was one that said very little but spoke volumes when he did. While he was introverted (he claimed his personality type to be an “INFJ,” that rare 1% of the population that everyone claims to be in their online profiles), he wasn’t the slightest bit shy about sex. I was never one to make the first move, not even with my ex, whereas Ben could talk anyone into sex no matter what. Ben was 28 at the time, and had been infected with at age 19. He had quite the sexual past, and with me still working in HIV, listening to him talk about sex like it was chewing bubble gum, his attitudes towards sexual health initially mortified me:

“I’d rather not have sex at all than wear a condom!”

So while I’d spent the last 10 years talking about the ills of condom-less sex, he’d spent the last 10 years of his promoting it, referring to himself as the self-proclaimed “biggest whore in DC.” It was almost hard to imagine, he appeared so innocent at first glance; but once his shirt came off, along with his glasses, he was nicely built, with the word chaos tattooed on his chest. Ben certainly knew how to perform in bed, in the streets, and anywhere he wanted: he was the McGyver of sex as I called him. He could fix any sexual problem with a few moments of thought and… some spit. In time, though, I became normalized to his way of life.

The first time we had sex I was blown away, and out of nowhere I suffered diarrhea of the mouth, asking him oddly… if he’d been an escort before. No, I wasn’t someone to frequent escorts; it’s just that he performed like a pro, it seemed almost rehearsed or scripted, and I wasn’t complaining or trying to insult him in any way, it just made me think perhaps he’d escorted or done similar, and the words fell right out of my mouth.

I’d never been with someone who completely lost himself in the moment like Ben: the looks he gave me, the constant eye-contact that pierced my soul, the tender roughness he introduced, the moans and groans that carried themselves throughout my entire condo building  – this was something I’d never experienced before. My diarrhea mouth opened up Pandora’s box, as that’s when I found out Ben’s past had a tinge of what I’d experienced in mine recently. When he was 16 years old, Ben met his first boyfriend, a guy in his early 20’s. Shortly after, Ben was introduced to group sex and sex parties, only he was unaware his boyfriend was pimping him out to these guys. He was collecting money behind Ben’s back, without his knowledge or consent, plus Ben wasn’t even of age. I was told the relationship was filled with physical and mental abuse. In the end, Ben kicked the guy’s teeth out and left him for good, but reported he left the experience a totally different person, he came out of it changed, and found himself with an even “darker side” to him that wasn’t there before.  I didn’t understand what he meant by that, but he said that he then worked as an escort for several years. He described escorting as a way to regain his own power, as sex had previously left him powerless. One comment he made jumped out at me: he said he’d learned to use sex as as a weapon; for some reason this comment was one I never forgot, in fact, I can close my eyes and hear Ben saying those very words now, despite years having passed.

He escorted for several years and had left those days behind for a stable, blue-color, well paying job. He didn’t regret escorting, though; he said if he could still make the money, he’d do it, but at age 28 he was already “over the hill.” I didn’t judge him (minus his ageist remark), I knew life was far from the ideal I once believed it was, I was just happy to meet a great guy that was also HIV+.  Ben became a huge part of my life.

Before meeting him I was a mess, I was stuck in my PTSD phase after leaving an abusive relationship, and Ben knew more about about what happened to me than I did. When I told him about happened to me, he responded: “sounds like you were with a psychopath.”  I still didn’t know what a psychopath was. But he seemed to know a lot about emotional manipulators. He taught me words that matched the craziness I’d experienced perfectly, terms I’d never heard of before, like gas-lighting. I was so impressed with his knowledge; having endured abuse, I found in him a friend who I could finally related to. I’d discovered a needle in a haystack that I could look up to for advice, learn from, and begin to heal alongside. Ben’s charm, good looks, and fearless attitude towards life were intoxicating. At that time if you asked me what stood out the most about Ben’s character, it was his integrity, his sincerity, and his altruism. For whatever reason, he also made me feel like I was safe when I was with him, that nothing bad could come close to me, and I loved feeling this way… finally. This was like the best possible scenario I could have dreamed possible after what I’d just experienced. I actually told my mom perhaps HIV was a blessing in disguise, because without it, I’d have likely never crossed paths with Ben. Like always, I’d later realize I spoke too soon.

Before I knew it, Ben was with me all the time. Weeks passed like this, our time together was memorable, and I grew to view him like he was family. I noticed Ben didn’t know too much about his HIV medications, most people with HIV don’t, whereas I had been working in the field for nearly a decade. Ben often left his pills in the car, and one should never leave medication subject to the weather, and I’ll admit I scolded him on this. When I saw the antiretroviral medication combination he was taking – 6 archaic pills in fact – I didn’t like what I saw. I looked at what he was taking and came up with a better plan that would simply his regimen down to one pill daily. I encouraged him to speak to his physician, and eventually he did so. Strangely, the only “thanks” I got from Bed oddly was: “I guess it’s better, but it was a lot easier to forget 6 pills than 1!” Some thanks I got, but I figured Ben didn’t like being reminded of anything regarding the pill regimen he’d be stuck on indefinitely; I could attest to that. But I aimed to not only simplify things, but I picked out the best HIV drug that had ever been approved, a pill that recent studies showed even removed all HIV from semen in a matter of days after starting it, meaning it was a drug that left Ben virtually impossible to transmit the virus. I may not have seen much appreciation for my efforts, but deep down I felt good for having simplified his life, and improved his health in the long-term.

Devaluation 2: December, 2014  

Then one Friday night, Ben didn’t show up as planned, he didn’t answer his phone, either; I got worried and called, he never answered; I tried the following day, and again nothing. I tried a few more times, thinking something had happened to him.

One week later he answered the phone with an attitude, greeting me with the opposite of what I expected:

“You keep calling me like I’m your boyfriend or something, Jesus. You know I’m not your boyfriend, right? And I never will be, okie dokie?”

I’d never expected to hear those words from Ben, they were cold, callous, they aimed to make me feel lesser-than; this wasn’t the kind ,young man I’d met a few months ago, this was someone else, and my stomach sank to the ground: “I didn’t think we had a title but you have your toothbrush and what-not over my place, I thought that –“

Ben interrupted me:

“You thought wrong.  Look, I’m out of  town, and I ran into my ex and he accidentally fucked me, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you that because I knew it would hurt, but you’ve just kept calling every day, and it’s gotten annoying.”

I thought to myself, well, if you didn’t want to hurt me, then why the hell did you add that last part in after all? And how did you accidentally get fucked? On your fall down, did you miraculously fall on an enema before even more miraculously landing right on his dick?

I explained that I’d called as he never showed up and I was worried; then I asked him when and why he’d concluded that I wasn’t date-worthy. He mentioned several reasons: I over-think everything (and that statement was repeated time and again during our relationship), my over-thinking everything seemed to drive him mad. He also said I was far too smart for him to date, which I found odd, that we had too many qualities that clashed, and also he thought I wouldn’t make a good father and he was destined to one day have kids. Only now do I realize what he was truly saying. The words that ensued seemed to push that dagger in through my heart even deeper: “We’ll never date; get that through your head. We have no future together.” He stressed this ideal and my inferiority, along with my imminent expulsion from Ben’s cool club, as often as possible from that point going forward. It was a change I never saw coming, I didn’t understand what had even happened.

Ben continued:

“Now, if you want to keep having sex with me, I’m not gonna pass it up, but it doesn’t matter to me if I do or I don’t, I can take it or leave it. But in terms of dating – that has not been happening, nor will that ever happen, Okie Dokie? Yeah, we’ve been hanging out, having sex, and doing what most gay guys do. That is far from dating. Look: I’ve got a dark side to me that you wouldn’t like. Keep that between us, and don’t try and figure me out, either – nobody can, I can’t even figure myself out. You deserve to date someone better than me anyway.”

    The way he said this, so non-nonchalant and blunt, really stung, it was mean, he was showing me that he called all the shots, he had the power and dictated everything, and my feelings and needs were not his concern in the slightest. If I wanted what little he had remaining in his pursuit for the ideal boyfriend, so be it; but he could care less, I wasn’t special to him at all. Nobody had ever spoken to me in a manner that cut my self-esteem into pieces like Ben had, and it came off like he’d selected each word with the intent to hurt me. The wonderful young man I’d met was suddenly a dictator who had no love for me and had merely strung me along for months with a fake act and a bunch of lies, leading me to believe in a romance he viewed as a farce.  This was weird, this wasn’t how I’d treat someone, especially if I could relate to their recent predicament, I thought that’s almost sinister; but I stopped thinking about this sudden change in his character as the depression that had recently abated came back full force. I felt like I was worthless, like I was nothing more than a toxic virus and nobody wanted me, so I accepted Ben’s leftover scraps.

I knew his words and subsequent actions were dehumanizing, but then I’d begin thinking back on the first months after my diagnosis and concluded: a little bit of pain thrown in was better than a whole lot of nothingness. I thought Ben was dealing with something that triggered him at that moment, and with his past history of abuse and escorting, he was bound to have picked up a few bad habits in surviving the means streets. Maybe my initial impression had been off, but maybe he was experiencing a bad period in his life, I never believed anyone could be totally dead-set in their beliefs and unchangeable in their harshness.

Nobody put a gun to my head and forced me to conceit to this one-sided relationship. I accept responsibility in becoming part of this degrading role as what later turned out to be his punching bag. It was later on that I realize this sort “friendships” wasn’t even possible; it was a power play, it constituted abuse. I believed that I’d happened upon someone who had long ago dealt with having HIV and my needing to be coddled with that topic annoyed him. Plus Ben was popular, he was in high-demand, and so he was a bit on a high horse at times. He definitely wasn’t the kindest person when crossed; still I’d rather be on his team than on no team at all. I gave in and continued in the whatever-he-gives-me-relationship with Ben.

I also believed that once Ben discovered who I really was, that I had a good heart, was fun, creative, and musically gifted, he’d come to view me as valuable and perhaps he’d even develop feelings once he knew the real me. Or at least he’d appreciate what I brought to the table as a friend. Despite him speaking to me like this, besides being offended and hurt, I still felt this bizarre closeness towards him, like I’d known him for years, like he was family, and oddly… I still felt safe when I was with him, I felt this need to be loyal to him.

I believed that Ben could see things from other points of view, although while rigid, that he had the capacity to compromise, to change his mind, and that he wasn’t totally dead set in his ways, in putting himself first all the time, and showing no remorse for hurting others’ feelings. I also believed that, despite his mean rhetoric, he at least saw a true friend in me, and in my life friends didn’t just come and go, friends were meant to be there forever, they’re like your extended family. Soon I’d discover that all the traits I thought mankind was made up of – traits that are present in almost all people I’d known – were somehow inherently absent in him.

  The relationship ensued, only his treatment would wax and wane from dream (fake) boyfriend to evil, sadistic child out to bully me on the playground. As time progressed, this juvenile side seemed to be all I experienced. His “favorite” way to punish me when I pissed him off was with the “silent treatment,” similar to my ex, only with Ben he was already quiet, so it was hard to know when the silent treatment had started and stopped. I found myself confused, and felt like Ben enjoyed holding power and control over me, as the silent treatment only ended when he decided. He made me feel like my presence wasn’t needed or wanted by him, whereas I needed his to exit this world of silence, and therefore with time I became dependent on him and saw myself as inferior.

Ben’s sadistic change in demeanor was perplexing, and I pressed him for more answers about this “dark side” he claimed to have.

“What did I tell you about trying to figure me out? I told you not to try doing it; if I don’t understand it, you definitely won’t either. And trust me, you don’t want to know or understand it.”  

The biggest explanation I received as to why he had “2 personalities”, the good and the bad, was Ben’s automatic line:

“That’s because I’m a Gemini.”

When I asked him to explain he’d just roll his eyes. So I didn’t ask again, at least not during round 1, this first period of us meeting.

I found it strange; he even had a name for this alter-ego, but I didn’t question him further; I figured it was his way of coping with his abuse and a means of living in denial.  I didn’t know what any of this signified; he was a bit mean and selfish at times, but often he was pleasant and enjoyable to be around, especially if it wasn’t just the two of us. What struck me as confusing was how someone could treat me better than I’d ever been treated before, yet also treat me worse than I’d ever be treated before. It seemed so unreal that the same person could be responsible for both.

    I shouldn’t have stuck around like I stupidly did; I should have left that ‘relationship’ then and there, running for the hills, remembering pieces of my last relationship that were resurfacing here only in a slightly different manner.

But I wasn’t in a calm, rational state of mind at that time. Instead, depressed and distraught, I had nothing now in my life, without Ben, except for HIV, and HIV had already killed my spirit. So I chose to take what little Ben would give in lieu of the perceived nothing I’d have if just with HIV alone. Our “friendship” was highly sexual and emotionally abusive, yet most that saw us together it seemed like we were this perfect, happily married couple. Little did they know we weren’t close to that.

Ben would not budge in his willingness to date me. You couldn’t get him to budge much for anything, maybe occasionally when he’d benefit from something he would. He could be bright and a lot of fun when he wanted to be, but he always made sure I knew that he held all the power. He drove home hard the idea that he didn’t need me at all, whereas I needed him like a child needed a parent. He rarely (if ever) apologized for his behavior or mistakes, he believed that he was was perfect as is; he viewed anyone that thought he was selfish and should change as the enemy. He was self-centered, he was all about himself, he didn’t seem to have much concern for my feelings, and I was starting to see this one-sided friendship really drag me down. And I was already feeling down so I knew this wasn’t healthy but I didn’t know anyone else willing to take on my mess and tolerate the pathetic state I believed I was in. Ben had met me after the most serious period of abuse, shock and fear I’ll ever experience in my lifetime, and I hadn’t begun to heal; he still had a lot fenced up inside him. But shortly after, he’d become mad when I brought up this topic for discussion at all. Soon he started placing rules on our sex, often under the guise that it was helping me: “You’re getting attached, I’m cutting off the sex.”

It seemed like he kinda got off on putting me down, making it known that he held the power, I didn’t, and that he had several Alex’s whereas I only had 1 Ben. But the moment he wanted sex, the rules were out the door. The friendship was very one-sided: if I wanted sex, he’d say no if he even answered, usually he just deflected the question by addressing something else. If he came over on his own accord, sex always happened, I didn’t say no because him seducing me became like breathing air, it was happening all the time, and I was used to breathing that; plus he’d walk right into my place, taking his clothes off like it was nothing special. A stupid part of me still believed that he had to view sex like I did, as being special, as being sacred. But no, Ben saw having sex like chewing a piece of gum. It was frustrating and I found myself rather jaded, and further isolated myself from the world. I began to notice that his compliments always seemed back-handed: “You’re really attractive for an older man.” I was 5 years older than Ben, and while it didn’t seem like he’d thrown that in there to insult me, I couldn’t help but take offense as this is how he phrased it every single time, always tacking on my “older” age even though I was 33 at this point in time.   When he’d refer to our sex, he’d always have to add on a comment about how he didn’t need it, he could take it or leave it, and focus on our “friendship.” My eyes would be rolling in my head listening to that passive-aggressive crap, and what kinda “friendship” was Ben even working towards with me? He later came at me with more insults and jabs, frequently mentioning my lack of self-esteem, always reminding me that we’d never date, only having sex when he wanted it, and always bringing up what I referred to as my “pre-planned demise” as he’d frequently ask me, “What are you gonna do when I start dating?”

He later claimed his comments were all done out of kindness, so I wasn’t taken aback when he was suddenly dating. Only… that never happened; all that ever happened was him antagonizing me by constantly by bringing up how unworthy I was of dating him, but someone else out there was, and I needed to think about how I’d react when he someday found his next victim. This seemed to happen with a whole lot of topics actually, getting me all worked up over things that were coming down the pike, things I wouldn’t like so I needed to be forewarned, only none of these bad things ever panned out. It made no sense to me – why get someone all stressed out and worked up over nothing? It seemed like such a waste of time and energy on his part, and completely draining emotionally on my end.

He seemed to enjoy bullying me, he enjoyed putting me down to feel better about himself but I didn’t get why. Constantly bringing up my end date was inhumane; here he’d met me after my first boyfriend-turned-psychopath infected me with HIV, he had the chance to make a positive impact in my life, but instead… all he could dwell on was my unworthiness, as well as my exit once someone that was worthy entered the picture. It was demeaning, it was mean, and what was most confusing was how he’d started all this off being so kind, and leaving me feeling… safe.

I’ll never forget one Friday night when he looked at me half-way through sex and said, “You like this, don’t you?” I nodded, and he suddenly fired back:

“Well if you don’t fuck 2 other guys by Friday, we’re not having sex again the two of us!”

My head was spinning, I was so mortified, I felt crushed.  Who wants the guy they’re sleeping with to be sleeping with others? Why would someone threaten to withhold sex from me if I didn’t go out and do something I didn’t want to do sexually with other guys?  This  was really, really bizarre. The way he went from treating me so wonderfully with sex to cruel and controlling with sex baffled me. Down the road when I’d bring up how his treatment and demeanor changed so abruptly with me, his excuse didn’t seem to match what I’d experienced at all:

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t get too attached to me, I wanted to make sure you experienced sex with other guys. I knew I always wanted you; I just knew it wasn’t the right time when we first me.”

Among other comments that made Ben appear entitled, and his compliments perhaps back-handed, he’d say things like:

He felt he deserved 3 boyfriends, not just one; in fact I wasn’t even on the waiting list. It came off as he viewed himself as being special, deserving the best x 3; he wasn’t successful or wealthy but seemed to think he was so “hot” and unique that he deserved everything.

He seemed to re-write history a lot, his recollection of events were often very different than mine. He’d take all the insults and degrading comments he’d make and later paint them out to be tough love, encouraging me to be stronger, or even wanting to protect me. It all seemed like bullshit to me.

He’d frequently point out  how lucky I was that out of everyone else in the world that he’d “chosen” me. He acted like he was some Superstar, and in such high demand.

He lied a lot, and about anything and everything I was finding out; he often seemed convinced he was telling the truth when I knew it to be different, he often lied about nothing worth lying about. I began to feel like I couldn’t trust anything he said.

He told me that he only dated a guy, if they made the cut, for 30 days before disappearing on them altogether; why 30 days? “Because that’s when people really start to develop feelings,” and he didn’t want to deal with others’ feelings since they always fell in love with him. Damn. Ben sure felt high and mighty hidden behind his glasses. He also seemed to hint at how sticking around one place would let too much out about who he was, he was very secretive about his life for some reason, he told me little about his other friends, family and past.

He planned out everything he did beforehand to a tee, and became upset when things didn’t go as planned or he when didn’t get all he wanted.

He could certainly dish out the nasty; but the slightest criticism seemed to upset him like a child.

He spoke constantly of his alter ego, his dark side, which he claimed I hadn’t come close to seeing yet, despite my opinion that he was often behaving in a cruel manner.

He loved to hit me with the silent treatment, but always denied doing it intentionally, blaming it instead on being introvert and an INFJ that needed his alone time. It just so happened that the 4-day stretch of alone time always came after I challenged him or didn’t do what he wanted.

At the end of our friendship, round 1 as we later called it, he informed me that he’d slept with 20 guys that month, who knows if that was just an exaggeration. When I asked him if he thought he had a sex addiction or was really that horny, he responded by saying: “Sex isn’t about being horny, it’s about power.” I realized then that Ben was likely on a hunt for all the power he could get…

Ben also didn’t seem to have any solid friendships, everyone in the gay scene knew him, but when he and I were hanging out he was always alone with me; I never met any of his friends. He also described having a rough childhood where he had to take on “parenting” tasks as his folks were getting divorced and he had to hide it from his siblings. He said his father constantly told him to hide his emotions, punishing him if he let his feelings show. He said his family moved every 2 years or so due to being in the military, never having a sense of stability, never making solid friends, and never connecting with anyone for very long. He’d frequently mention his desire to move, to leave all behind, and escape his problems here for another place. I told him that’s not how things typically worked, that running away from problems didn’t leave the problems behind, it brought them with you. He disagreed; he recanted cutting all ties with his family for 3 years, moving across the country, trying to figure out his life; he said his problems remained back in the DMV,not following him where he went. He mentioned he had no issues disconnecting from his family during that period, never once speaking to them until he returned. He told me about a boyfriend he’d lived with for 4 years and one day, Ben up and left him. He said his boyfriend had become complacent, and Ben felt he was standing in the way of him reaching his potential. So Ben left him, and as a result, the ex was forced to grow up, go to college, and now was making a 6 figure salary: “I had no problems leaving him because I knew I was doing it to help him, to make him grow, and it worked.” It also seemed odd to me: all I’d ever wanted in life was love, and I couldn’t imagine finally finding it, and then after 4 years suddenly leaving it behind when a good sit-down talk could have helped resolve things. But to each their own… one thing was clear: Ben was confident in himself, he didn’t depend on the approval of others, he was fine being on his own, and he didn’t allow anyone to tie him down at all, he did what he wanted, there was little compromise, he was stubborn as hell, he was dead-set in his ways and beliefs, and whom he deemed as “worthy” and “beneficial” to have around was set in stone from the first greeting and didn’t change much thereafter. At the time while I found it odd, I respected him for it; I was insecure and often agreed to things I didn’t want to do, whereas Ben stuck to his guns, and didn’t end up in the same predicaments as I often did. When it came to dating, he wouldn’t settle for anything other than his ideal mate; he had no issues explaining to me time and again how I didn’t fit his “ideal” and that’s all he’d seek. He had all these ideals, these visions for his future that he felt were necessary to be happy: he wanted kids, a great-paying job in information technology, he wanted to live by the beach, he insisted on having a grand wedding.

While Ben didn’t seem to do many good things for me, I continued having my eyes out on his best interests. I noticed a lesion on his butt, it looked to be a rectal fissure or fistula, I wasn’t certain, but I knew it didn’t look good and it needed surgery. Through surgeons I knew from working in the community, I managed to land Ben an appointment with the best of the best – a surgeon whose waiting list was 6 months long just for a baseline appointment – only I was able to shenagle it so that Ben was seen the next week. Like with his HIV meds, Ben didn’t seem all that appreciative, but then again, nobody wants surgery, and often people don’t appreciate their “peers” pointing out medical problems that need further investigation. Nonetheless, Ben booked the surgery, and I was more excited than he was – not that surgery is every a reason to be excited – but because he was in the best hands, and the area I saw looked like, if untreated, could turn into cancer one day. So regardless of what Ben thought, I knew what I was doing was something that would not only change this life but possibly save it. I was far from perfect, but I believed I was a good friend to Ben, I believed that I put his best interests before anything else, and just as I’d aimed to do (regardless of his frequent immature treatment), I felt like I was being the best friend I could to him.

Discard: January, 2015

I didn’t mind helping Ben out and having it go unnoticed. However, I found myself becoming more and more bummed in the relationship. My self-esteem was falling by the minute based on how he made me feel so… ugly, so run-of-the-mill, so un-exciting.

One day I decided to research the term “psychopath” on the internet after Ben mentioned it another time, and in doing so, stumbled upon Narcissistic Personality Disorder – a close relative to psychopathy. In reading it I couldn’t help but see many of Ben’s strange quirks being described, although the over-the-top behavior described in the article didn’t match Ben at all, who was introverted and quiet.

But still… I wondered if he might have a little of that in him, maybe that’s why nobody can figure him out like he said, maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem to have empathy or concern for my feelings, maybe that’s why he has a dark side he keeps hidden yet warns you not to cross.

I sent Ben an email, and included a portion of the article in it, asking him if perhaps he thought that was why he had a “dark side” and if it might explain some of his nuances. Ben called me 2 days later, having gotten out of surgery a few hours before. I asked him how things went, and what he said surprised me:

“Things went well. Oh, and I read your email by the way. You will never hear from me, speak to me, or see me again. I’m blocking you in my phone and I want nothing to do with you. You’re discarded from my life: you will never find closure. Goodbye!”

Suddenly – the feeling I got when my ex up and vanished came back full-force, and I was experiencing it all over again. Why had he gotten so offended with what I wrote? After all, he was mistreating me really badly, this was at my lowest of the lows in my life, he had the chance to be a true friend, a role model and instead he treated me like crap. Why would one stupid article about narcissism – one word for that matter, narcissist – create such a whirlwind of animosity inside him? I didn’t get it, but what I did get was Ben’s never-ending silent treatment: I was discarded just as he said I would be. I had never felt so much pain in my life, such humiliation, such confusion and betrayal. Ben, albeit having issues, felt like family to me, and initially he’d treated me like gold. How he suddenly had no empathy for leaving me all alone made my stomach sink to the ground; how he wanted nothing to do with me and flat-out cut me out of his life –  all because I asked if he might be a narcissist – seemed over-the-top, seemed very immature and juvenile, it was as if he was punishing me for having criticized him about something that perhaps was true, look at his reaction. If someone asked me that very question about having narcissistic traits, I’d have laughed, I wouldn’t disown them.

I tried for several weeks to get him to cave, I reached out repeatedly by email and using my home phone, which he quickly blocked, as well. Ben’s stubborn ways made certain that his word was the only word, and that I’d be banished from his life all for suggesting he had narcissistic traits. And the truth was: he did, big time. Only I didn’t realize just how big yet, I thought he was selfish, vain, overly confident when he didn’t have the accomplishments to match, and a slight bully. What had I done to him that was so wrong? I’d merely endured his abuse, and when I called him out on it, he ensured that I was further abused for crossing him, for perhaps forcing him to see himself as he truly was, as not the perfect, all-American boy he wanted to pretend he was: Ben couldn’t handle that the “ideal” self he saw of himself was, in fact, just a phony.

While the ending of my last relationship changed my life in a way that it could never be repaired, my ending with Ben might have took what little hope I had left…

…and threw it into a deep, dark, ravine that kept leading further into darkness…

        …and it would only get darker until Ben finished off what he’d started. Because while I’d read a few articles on Narcissistic Personality Disorder at that point in time, I didn’t actually think Ben was part of that club, no way. I believed he had narcissistic traits and was a bit immature in his putting others down to make himself feel better, but I never believed that Ben was some sort of monster. I attributed his behavior to his life experiences, to being pimped out at a young age, and to escorting. I still viewed him as a person, as a human being that was inherently good deep-down, only that goodness was just hiding out somewhere, waiting to come out in time. I didn’t view him as evil, as a vampire whose only mission in life was to tear others down until they were nothing – all so that at he could suck the life out of whomever, and feel some tiny amount of pleasure, leaving them drained and practically dead, all so he could feel validated. Never in a million years did I think that worse was on its way, not after what I’d been through already. I mean, a person can only take so much before they break, right? God, karma, the powers that be, they give good people breaks, especially after putting them through unbelievable hell like me, right?

          Ben: he couldn’t he be worse than my ex, he wasn’t that sort of animal, right? No way in hell; at least that’s what I thought, despite how badly he’d treated me.

                        I’ll give credit when it’s due, regardless of interpersonal strains. It was through Ben’s mentioning of the word psychopath that I finally came to research the topic, and began reading about it more and more as I discovered a great deal of information that took me by surprise: it was like reading the biography of my ex, it was like reading about every single thing I’d experienced with him that left me dumbfounded, now suddenly I felt enlightened, suddenly I had that moment of epiphany wherein finally I understood what I’d just dealt with.

Suddenly it all made perfect sense, well, not really because nothing makes sense when dealing with a psychopath, nothing makes logical sense that is – but now knowing what I did, in the context of psychopathy, it all made total sense, if that makes any sense. Thinking back on Ben, on all the good, and the bad, I couldn’t help but feel like I had lost someone special, someone I never got to learn important life lessons from.  And all because of a stupid word. I felt sad, I felt lonely, I felt like I’d never, ever find love in this world. Ben, even with his nasty side, had an incredible side that I truly missed. It was painful knowing he’d blocked me completely from his life and I’d never, ever see him again. With my ex so many things happened at once it was complete pandemonium, whereas this was one, abrupt slice out of my life – gone. It was the most painful thing I’ve experienced honestly, and I will never forget that.

I didn’t even know what narcissism actually entailed at the time, I just thought it meant that someone was wired to be a bit egotistical and selfish; I didn’t know that clinical narcissism is a disorder of delusion, it’s a pathology akin to psychopathy and sociopathy, in fact, many experts argue that they’re one in the same.

  I won’t deny that for whatever reason, maybe it was the timing right after my ex, after my HIV diagnosis, that this one event stung so badly that I failed to fully recover from it. It left me feeling worse than how I’d felt when I first met Ben. Only I never imagined that this was just the beginning of Ben’s end for me...

Several months later, I got word that my neighbor John was arrested: he ended up getting thrown in the slammer for… 9 years   Ugh. It was sad to lose his wicked sense of sarcasm, and his pursuit for fun and anything that would seep out dopamine.  It was sad because his whole life was taken away in an instant. It was beyond sad, it was awful.

One random day that winter, I got a call from police investigators; they were calling about John; they wanted to speak with me, and I did, I had nothing to hide. I answered their questions truthfully and then went on my way. It seemed rather out-of-place, very strange, that they’d contacted me of all people. I didn’t know what all he’d been into, but it turned out to be a lot. I’d taken care of his cat when he’d leave town and that summer we’d hung out quite a bit, but other than that, we weren’t like besties, I didn’t even know about the operation he had going on. I knew very little, and they seemed frustrated but I was honest. But I wasn’t much use to them, and they thanked me and said goodbye.

I forgot all about this event for quite some time… and not once did I think there was any connection here between characters: Ben, John, “those people” from law enforcement… they were all distinct part of the chaos of the universe I believed. But in time I’d discover that wasn’t exactly the case; get ready for the smear campaign of all smear campaigns, brought into the new millennium, complete with e-Gaslighting!

    I was so upset losing Ben, and I tried reaching him every few weeks for several months, but I never got through. I had slighted his ego tremendously in asking if he was a narcissist. I didn’t understand in the slightest bit why that one word would have such a giant impact on him but my conclusion was that he must be a narcissist after all. Big deal, I thought, why get so upset? Because I was still clueless regarding what a narcissist truly is… they’ve the most vile, evil creations in existence.  Ben was one, and so he knew precisely what that word meant; I didn’t. Nor did I know the grave sin I committed that day when I opened my mouth.

[houseinva]

My first experience in finding “love” turned out to be the biggest con act and disaster I’d ever encountered. The relationship harmed my health, it killed my spirits, and it left my forward thinking at a stand-still. 

My life was a joke, it was; I’d been dealt some of the world’s worst odds in being the HIV nurse who got HIV from his first boyfriend after several tests. Only life’s brutal irony kicked me in the ass again with my second chance in finding love, leaving my first looking like Disney World.

For the first 6 months after my diagnosis, I didn’t leave my home except for work, doctor appointments, groceries and other basic, mundane life requirements.  I isolated myself from those I knew, becoming all the more lonely and vulnerable. I felt ashamed by what happened to me, I felt so embarrassed with how my life tanked miserably, and I began avoiding friends and family, viewing myself as a failure and not wanting to even be seen.

John, a neighbor a few doors down, ended up befriending me. John was the polar opposite of me: he’d always lived on the edge, the more reckless, the better,and boy did he love throwing caution to the wind. John partied and drank like a superstar, and anything addictive – you name it – from scratch-offs to ripping something off via 5-finger discount -  as long as it involved a rush of adrenaline or dopamine, he was always game for it. I could tell that John felt bad for my recent predicament, and so he made a point of inviting me out with him and his small gaggle of gays, it was an interesting bunch: there was the deaf gay, there was one that looked like George Costanza, another seemed to be the twin of Grimace from McDonald’s, and new to the addition was yours truly.

Aside from meeting John and his little gaggle of gays, that was the extent of my outward growth in the friend scene. I didn’t make another friend for several months. Then again, sitting around, alone by myself, isn’t exactly the best way to meet new people. Then one Saturday I met Ben, and my life changed in so many ways. Ben was this mellow, kind, soft-spoken and sincere guy, at least that’s how he seemed initially. We both had a past history of relationship abusie as well as HIV; we had lots in common, we hit it off rather well, and the relationship progressed naturally from there.

While John was definitely living on the legal edge of life, it was actually Ben, hands down, who corrupted me more than anyone in my history. Ben was a staunch supporter of doing things most consider caution, only he always gave a wicket grin while managing to beat the odds..

Ben was the most sexually liberal person I’d met so far, his past experiences in a week were more than mine in a lifetime. So Ben sought out to be my “mentor” in this new “anything goes” side of the gay universe except little did I know what that actually entailed. While I’d been slightly exposed to the “dark side” with my ex, Ben vowed to do a better job as my tour guide.and Be actually wound up showing me even darker sides than I’d anticipated. But I was game for whatever at this point, and for some reason, I always trusted Ben to have my back. After all – I had HIV now – the Rolls Royce of all STDs – so there wasn’t much else to fear at this point, right?

It’s not like there are that many psychopaths running amok in the world, hunting for guys like me to mislead, manipulate and destroy. What were the odds of that happening to me again? Odds like that don’t exist, come on!. So I figured it was safe to proceed and let down my guard a bit, allowing Ben to take the wheel:

“The coast is clear, and that means its smooth sailing from here on out!”

Ben would credit himself for breaking me into this lifestyle like it was an honor, like he was the ultimate instructor who did me some huge favor:

“You lucked out, You had me to break you in!”

Only it wasn’t luck at all; it was actually an insidious curse that nearly left me in jail. This just might be the most ridiculously implausible, cruel, exploitative and inhuman act I’ve heard of taking place in a long time, if not in forever.

      Idealization 2: Fall, 2014

Ben and I hit it off well from the moment we met, he seemed to really “get” me and what I was battling, he entered my life at my lowest of the lows and was so understanding, treating me so well that I felt like I had my life back at last. He knew what topics were still too painfully fresh and avoided them, and instead he left me feeling at peace.

For the first time since acquiring HIV, I forget I had the virus thanks to our chance meeting.  Ben sure made for an incredible escape: he gave me hope, h was an inspiration and he showed me I still had plenty of life ahead of me.; I felt blessed to have found him. The relationship moved quickly but not at the speed of light like it with my ex. Maybe a a month after meeting, we were spending the majority of our weekend time together. At the 2-month mark, Ben had his own set of toiletries sitting in my bathroom. There was no talk of moving in, I wasn’t about to repeat the mistakes I made before; it just so happened Ben had a roommate and they weren’t getting along, I lived close to Ben’s work, and so a few nights a week he’d stay over at my place instead. The more time that passed, the stronger the bond grew between us. He was so chill, so mild-mannered, and even seemed to be in awe of me at times. He always said I was “wicked genius,” it was my mind, that he found my most attractive feature. I loved the sound of that…

Meeting Ben gave me a whole new outlook on life: I no longer felt like an outcast, I no longer felt embarrassed 24-7, I was no longer fixated on thoughts of HIV running chaotically throughout my veins. I knew this no longer meant being all alone in life with this most stigmatizing of all / illnesses, I was in good company now. I felt like the connection we had was so strong that it was almost worth becoming HIV-positive for, as crazy as that may read. But meeting Ben seemed meant to be,it brought me life again.

Now, while Ben was subdued and never allowed his emotions to be shown, I soon discovered he had another side that was far from subdue. It was over the topi, it was bold; my feelers had been incorrect in thinking he was humble after all. When it came to the gay world and sex in general, Ben was beyond confident, he was self-assured and extremely comfortable, he didn’t view anyone or anything as being out of reach, and he didn’t treat HIV as a handicap, either, in fact, to him it was a non-issue.

His quiet, peaceful facade seemed to shy away from drama, as he always remained calm and collect, no matter what. Ben was one that said very little but spoke volumes when he did, and I found that to be so hot. While he was introverted and came off as being shy (he claimed his personality type to be an “INFJ,” that rare 1% of the population that everyone claims to be in their online profiles), he wasn’t shy in the least when it came to sex. I was never one to make the first move, not even with my ex, whereas Ben could talk anyone into sex no matter what. Ben was 28 at the time, and had been infected with at age 19. He had quite the sexual past, and with me still working in HIV, listening to him discuss sex like it was chewing bubble gum was slightly shocking initially, his attitudes towards sexual health took me by surprise:

“I’d rather not have sex at all than try to have sex wearing condom!”

So while I’d spent the last 10 years talking about the ills of condom-less sex, he’d spent the last 10 years of his promoting it, referring to himself as the self-proclaimed “biggest whore in DC.” It was almost hard to imagine, he appeared so innocent at first glance; but once his shirt came off, along with his glasses, he was nicely built, and was out to use his physique and charm to earn the affections of nearly everyone he met.

I’ll never forget the first time I had sex with Ben, I was truly blown away, and out of nowhere I suffered diarrhea of the mouth, asking him oddly… if he’d been an escort before. No, I wasn’t someone to frequent escorts; it’s just that he performed like a pro, it seemed almost rehearsed and scripted, and I wasn’t complaining or trying to insult him in any way. I just thought perhaps he’d escorted or done similar as his acting seemed so second-nature, and the words fell out of my mouth without me realizing what I’d said.

I’d never been with someone who completely lost himself in the moment like Ben: the looks he gave me, the constant eye-contact that pierced my soul, the roughness he introduced, and the moans and groans that carried themselves throughout my entire condo building  – this was something I’d never encountered. My diarrhea mouth opened up Pandora’s box though, as that’s when I found out Ben’s past had a tinge of what I’d experienced in mine recently.

When he was 16 years old, Ben met his first boyfriend, a guy in his early 20’s. Shortly after they began dating, Ben was introduced to group sex and sex parties, he thought this was exciting and cool, only he was unaware his boyfriend was pimping him out to these other guys behind his back. He was collecting money and arranging sex between Ben and other guys, without Ben’s knowledge or consent, plus Ben wasn’t even of age. I was told the relationship was filled with physical and mental abuse. In the end, Ben kicked the guy’s teeth out and left him for good, but reported he left the experience a totally different person, he came out of it changed, and discovered an even “darker side” to him that wasn’t there before. He then went on to  work as an escort for several years. He described escorting as a way to regain his own power, as sex had previously left him powerless. Escorting somehow made up for his feelings of inadequacy. One comment he made jumped out at me: he said he’d learned to use sex as as a weapon; for some reason this comment was one I never forgot,

He escorted for several years and had left those days behind for a stable, blue-color, well paying job. He didn’t regret escorting, though; he said if he could still make the money, he’d do it all over again, but at age 28 he was already “over the hill.” I didn’t judge him (minus his ageist remark), I knew life was far from the ideal I once believed it was, I was just happy to have met a great guy that was also HIV+. Ben became a huge part of my life.

Before meeting him I was a mess, I was stuck in this PTSD mindset after leaving that abusive, psychopathic pretense of a “relationship.” Ben seemed to know more about about what happened to me than I did. When I recanted the events, he responded: “sounds like you were with a psychopath.”  I still didn’t know what the term meant, but Ben seemed to know a lot about the topic of emotional manipulators. He taught me words that matched the craziness I’d experienced perfectly, -  terms I’d never heard of before - like gas-lighting. Thanks to Ben, I finally came to understand psychopathy, and could see how it explained so much of the confusion in my last relationship..

Ben’s charm, good looks, and fearless attitude towards life were all rather intoxicating. At that time if you asked me what stood out the most about Ben’s character, I’d have answered that it was his integrity, his sincerity, and his altruism. For whatever reason, he also made me feel like I was safe when I was with him, that nothing bad could come close to me, and I loved feeling this way… finally. This was like the best possible scenario I could have wished for after what I’d just experienced. I told my mom perhaps HIV was a blessing in disguise, because without it, I’d have likely never crossed paths with Ben. Like always, I’d later realize I’d spoken too soon.

Before I knew it, Ben was with me all the time. Weeks passed like this, our time together was always enjoyable and relaxing, and I grew to view him like he was family. I noticed Ben didn’t know too much about his HIV medications, many people with HIV don’t, whereas I had been working in the field for nearly a decade. Ben often left his pills in the car, and one should never leave medication subject to the weather, so I admit I scolded him on this. When I saw the antiretroviral medication combination he was taking – 6 archaic pills in fact – I didn’t like what I saw. I looked at what he was taking and came up with a better plan that would simplify his regimen down to one pill daily. I encouraged him to speak to his physician, and eventually he did so. Strangely, the only “thanks” I got from Bed oddly was: “I guess it’s better, but it was a lot easier to forget 6 pills than 1!” Some thanks I got, but I figured Ben didn’t like being reminded of anything regarding the pill regimen he’d be stuck on indefinitely. . But I aimed to not only simplify things, but I picked out the best HIV drug that had ever been approved, a pill that recent studies showed even removed all HIV from semen in a matter of days after starting it, meaning it was a drug that left Ben virtually impossible to transmit the virus. I may not have seen much appreciation for my efforts, but deep down I felt good for having simplified his life, and improved his health in the long-term.

Devaluation 2: December, 2014  

One Friday night, Ben didn’t show up as planned, he didn’t answer his phone, either; I got worried and called, but he never answered; I tried the following day, and again nothing. I tried a few more times, thinking something had happened to him and found myself worried and on-edge. This wan’t like the Ben I’d come to know, this wasn’t like anyone I’d known in my past either.

But one week later he answered the phone with an attitude, greeting me with the opposite of what I expected:

“You keep calling me like I’m your boyfriend or something, Jesus. You know I’m not your boyfriend, right? And I never will be, okie dokie?”

I’d never expected to hear those words from Ben, as they were cold, callous, and seemed to aim at making me feel lesser-than. This wasn’t the kind ,young man I’d met a few months back, this was someone else, and my stomach sank to the ground: “I didn’t think we had a title but you have your toothbrush and what-not over my place, I thought that –“

Ben interrupted me:

“You thought wrong.  Look, I’m out of  town, and I ran into my ex and he accidentally fucked me, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you that because I knew it would hurt, but you’ve just kept calling every day, and it’s gotten annoying.”

I thought to myself, well, if you didn’t want to hurt me, then why the hell did you add that last part in after all? And how did you accidentally get fucked? On your fall down, did you miraculously fall on an enema before even more miraculously landing right on his dick?

I explained that I’d called as he never showed up and I was worried; then I asked him when and why he’d concluded that I wasn’t date-worthy. He mentioned several reasons: I over-think everything (and that statement was repeated time and again during our relationship), my over-thinking everything seemed to drive him mad. He also said I was far too smart for him to date, which I found odd, that we had too many qualities that clashed, and also he thought I wouldn’t make a good father and he was destined to one day have kids. Only now do I realize what he was truly saying. The words that ensued seemed to push that dagger in through my heart even deeper: “We’ll never date; get that through your head. We have no future together.” He stressed this ideal and my inferiority, along with my imminent expulsion from Ben’s cool club, as often as possible from that point going forward. It was a change I never saw coming, I didn’t understand what had even happened.

Ben continued:

“Now, if you want to keep having sex with me, I’m not gonna pass it up, but it doesn’t matter to me if I do or I don’t, I can take it or leave it. But in terms of dating – that has not been happening, nor will that ever happen, Okie Dokie? Yeah, we’ve been hanging out, having sex, and doing what most gay guys do. That is far from dating. Look: I’ve got a dark side to me that you wouldn’t like. Keep that between us, and don’t try and figure me out, either – nobody can, I can’t even figure myself out. You deserve to date someone better than me anyway.”

    The way he said this, so non-nonchalant and blunt, really stung, it was mean, he was showing me that he called all the shots, he had the power and dictated everything, and my feelings and needs were not his concern in the slightest. If I wanted what little he had remaining in his pursuit for the ideal boyfriend, so be it; but he could care less, I wasn’t special to him at all. Nobody had ever spoken to me in a manner that cut my self-esteem into pieces like Ben had, and it came off like he’d selected each word with the intent to hurt me. The wonderful young man I’d met was suddenly a dictator who had no love for me and had merely strung me along for months with a fake act and a bunch of lies, leading me to believe in a romance he viewed as a farce.  This was weird, this wasn’t how I’d treat someone, especially if I could relate to their recent predicament, I thought that’s almost sinister; but I stopped thinking about this sudden change in his character as the depression that had recently abated came back full force. I felt like I was worthless, like I was nothing more than a toxic virus and nobody wanted me, so I accepted Ben’s leftover scraps.

I knew his words and subsequent actions were dehumanizing, but then I’d begin thinking back on the first months after my diagnosis and concluded: a little bit of pain thrown in was better than a whole lot of nothingness. I thought Ben was dealing with something that triggered him at that moment, and with his past history of abuse and escorting, he was bound to have picked up a few bad habits in surviving the means streets. Maybe my initial impression had been off, but maybe he was experiencing a bad period in his life, I never believed anyone could be totally dead-set in their beliefs and unchangeable in their harshness.

Nobody put a gun to my head and forced me to conceit to this one-sided relationship. I accept responsibility in becoming part of this degrading role as what later turned out to be his punching bag. It was later on that I realize this sort “friendships” wasn’t even possible; it was a power play, it constituted abuse. I believed that I’d happened upon someone who had long ago dealt with having HIV and my needing to be coddled with that topic annoyed him. Plus Ben was popular, he was in high-demand, and so he was a bit on a high horse at times. He definitely wasn’t the kindest person when crossed; still I’d rather be on his team than on no team at all. I gave in and continued in the whatever-he-gives-me-relationship with Ben.

I also believed that once Ben discovered who I really was, that I had a good heart, was fun, creative, and musically gifted, he’d come to view me as valuable and perhaps he’d even develop feelings once he knew the real me. Or at least he’d appreciate what I brought to the table as a friend. Despite him speaking to me like this, besides being offended and hurt, I still felt this bizarre closeness towards him, like I’d known him for years, like he was family, and oddly… I still felt safe when I was with him, I felt this need to be loyal to him.

I believed that Ben could see things from other points of view, although while rigid, that he had the capacity to compromise, to change his mind, and that he wasn’t totally dead set in his ways, in putting himself first all the time, and showing no remorse for hurting others’ feelings. I also believed that, despite his mean rhetoric, he at least saw a true friend in me, and in my life friends didn’t just come and go, friends were meant to be there forever, they’re like your extended family. Soon I’d discover that all the traits I thought mankind was made up of – traits that are present in almost all people I’d known – were somehow inherently absent in him.

  The relationship ensued, only his treatment would wax and wane from dream (fake) boyfriend to evil, sadistic child out to bully me on the playground. As time progressed, this juvenile side seemed to be all I experienced. His “favorite” way to punish me when I pissed him off was with the “silent treatment,” similar to my ex, only with Ben he was already quiet, so it was hard to know when the silent treatment had started and stopped. I found myself confused, and felt like Ben enjoyed holding power and control over me, as the silent treatment only ended when he decided. He made me feel like my presence wasn’t needed or wanted by him, whereas I needed his to exit this world of silence, and therefore with time I became dependent on him and saw myself as inferior.

Ben’s sadistic change in demeanor was perplexing, and I pressed him for more answers about this “dark side” he claimed to have.

“What did I tell you about trying to figure me out? I told you not to try doing it; if I don’t understand it, you definitely won’t either. And trust me, you don’t want to know or understand it.”  

The biggest explanation I received as to why he had “2 personalities”, the good and the bad, was Ben’s automatic line:

“That’s because I’m a Gemini.”

When I asked him to explain he’d just roll his eyes. So I didn’t ask again, at least not during round 1, this first period of us meeting.

I found it strange; he even had a name for this alter-ego, but I didn’t question him further; I figured it was his way of coping with his abuse and a means of living in denial.  I didn’t know what any of this signified; he was a bit mean and selfish at times, but often he was pleasant and enjoyable to be around, especially if it wasn’t just the two of us. What struck me as confusing was how someone could treat me better than I’d ever been treated before, yet also treat me worse than I’d ever be treated before. It seemed so unreal that the same person could be responsible for both.

    I shouldn’t have stuck around like I stupidly did; I should have left that ‘relationship’ then and there, running for the hills, remembering pieces of my last relationship that were resurfacing here only in a slightly different manner.

But I wasn’t in a calm, rational state of mind at that time. Instead, depressed and distraught, I had nothing now in my life, without Ben, except for HIV, and HIV had already killed my spirit. So I chose to take what little Ben would give in lieu of the perceived nothing I’d have if just with HIV alone. Our “friendship” was highly sexual and emotionally abusive, yet most that saw us together it seemed like we were this perfect, happily married couple. Little did they know we weren’t close to that.

Ben would not budge in his willingness to date me. You couldn’t get him to budge much for anything, maybe occasionally when he’d benefit from something he would. He could be bright and a lot of fun when he wanted to be, but he always made sure I knew that he held all the power. He drove home hard the idea that he didn’t need me at all, whereas I needed him like a child needed a parent. He rarely (if ever) apologized for his behavior or mistakes, he believed that he was was perfect as is; he viewed anyone that thought he was selfish and should change as the enemy. He was self-centered, he was all about himself, he didn’t seem to have much concern for my feelings, and I was starting to see this one-sided friendship really drag me down. And I was already feeling down so I knew this wasn’t healthy but I didn’t know anyone else willing to take on my mess and tolerate the pathetic state I believed I was in. Ben had met me after the most serious period of abuse, shock and fear I’ll ever experience in my lifetime, and I hadn’t begun to heal; he still had a lot fenced up inside him. But shortly after, he’d become mad when I brought up this topic for discussion at all. Soon he started placing rules on our sex, often under the guise that it was helping me: “You’re getting attached, I’m cutting off the sex.”

It seemed like he kinda got off on putting me down, making it known that he held the power, I didn’t, and that he had several Alex’s whereas I only had 1 Ben. But the moment he wanted sex, the rules were out the door. The friendship was very one-sided: if I wanted sex, he’d say no if he even answered, usually he just deflected the question by addressing something else. If he came over on his own accord, sex always happened, I didn’t say no because him seducing me became like breathing air, it was happening all the time, and I was used to breathing that; plus he’d walk right into my place, taking his clothes off like it was nothing special. A stupid part of me still believed that he had to view sex like I did, as being special, as being sacred. But no, Ben saw having sex like chewing a piece of gum. It was frustrating and I found myself rather jaded, and further isolated myself from the world. I began to notice that his compliments always seemed back-handed: “You’re really attractive for an older man.” I was 5 years older than Ben, and while it didn’t seem like he’d thrown that in there to insult me, I couldn’t help but take offense as this is how he phrased it every single time, always tacking on my “older” age even though I was 33 at this point in time.   When he’d refer to our sex, he’d always have to add on a comment about how he didn’t need it, he could take it or leave it, and focus on our “friendship.” My eyes would be rolling in my head listening to that passive-aggressive crap, and what kinda “friendship” was Ben even working towards with me? He later came at me with more insults and jabs, frequently mentioning my lack of self-esteem, always reminding me that we’d never date, only having sex when he wanted it, and always bringing up what I referred to as my “pre-planned demise” as he’d frequently ask me, “What are you gonna do when I start dating?”

He later claimed his comments were all done out of kindness, so I wasn’t taken aback when he was suddenly dating. Only… that never happened; all that ever happened was him antagonizing me by constantly by bringing up how unworthy I was of dating him, but someone else out there was, and I needed to think about how I’d react when he someday found his next victim. This seemed to happen with a whole lot of topics actually, getting me all worked up over things that were coming down the pike, things I wouldn’t like so I needed to be forewarned, only none of these bad things ever panned out. It made no sense to me – why get someone all stressed out and worked up over nothing? It seemed like such a waste of time and energy on his part, and completely draining emotionally on my end.

He seemed to enjoy bullying me, he enjoyed putting me down to feel better about himself but I didn’t get why. Constantly bringing up my end date was inhumane; here he’d met me after my first boyfriend-turned-psychopath infected me with HIV, he had the chance to make a positive impact in my life, but instead… all he could dwell on was my unworthiness, as well as my exit once someone that was worthy entered the picture. It was demeaning, it was mean, and what was most confusing was how he’d started all this off being so kind, and leaving me feeling… safe.

I’ll never forget one Friday night when he looked at me half-way through sex and said, “You like this, don’t you?” I nodded, and he suddenly fired back:

“Well if you don’t fuck 2 other guys by Friday, we’re not having sex again the two of us!”

My head was spinning, I was so mortified, I felt crushed.  Who wants the guy they’re sleeping with to be sleeping with others? Why would someone threaten to withhold sex from me if I didn’t go out and do something I didn’t want to do sexually with other guys?  This  was really, really bizarre. The way he went from treating me so wonderfully with sex to cruel and controlling with sex baffled me. Down the road when I’d bring up how his treatment and demeanor changed so abruptly with me, his excuse didn’t seem to match what I’d experienced at all:

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t get too attached to me, I wanted to make sure you experienced sex with other guys. I knew I always wanted you; I just knew it wasn’t the right time when we first me.”

Among other comments that made Ben appear entitled, and his compliments perhaps back-handed, he’d say things like:

He felt he deserved 3 boyfriends, not just one; in fact I wasn’t even on the waiting list. It came off as he viewed himself as being special, deserving the best x 3; he wasn’t successful or wealthy but seemed to think he was so “hot” and unique that he deserved everything.

He seemed to re-write history a lot, his recollection of events were often very different than mine. He’d take all the insults and degrading comments he’d make and later paint them out to be tough love, encouraging me to be stronger, or even wanting to protect me. It all seemed like bullshit to me.

He’d frequently point out  how lucky I was that out of everyone else in the world that he’d “chosen” me. He acted like he was some Superstar, and in such high demand.

He lied a lot, and about anything and everything I was finding out; he often seemed convinced he was telling the truth when I knew it to be different, he often lied about nothing worth lying about. I began to feel like I couldn’t trust anything he said.

He told me that he only dated a guy, if they made the cut, for 30 days before disappearing on them altogether; why 30 days? “Because that’s when people really start to develop feelings,” and he didn’t want to deal with others’ feelings since they always fell in love with him. Damn. Ben sure felt high and mighty hidden behind his glasses. He also seemed to hint at how sticking around one place would let too much out about who he was, he was very secretive about his life for some reason, he told me little about his other friends, family and past.

He planned out everything he did beforehand to a tee, and became upset when things didn’t go as planned or he when didn’t get all he wanted.

He could certainly dish out the nasty; but the slightest criticism seemed to upset him like a child.

He spoke constantly of his alter ego, his dark side, which he claimed I hadn’t come close to seeing yet, despite my opinion that he was often behaving in a cruel manner.

He loved to hit me with the silent treatment, but always denied doing it intentionally, blaming it instead on being introvert and an INFJ that needed his alone time. It just so happened that the 4-day stretch of alone time always came after I challenged him or didn’t do what he wanted.

At the end of our friendship, round 1 as we later called it, he informed me that he’d slept with 20 guys that month, who knows if that was just an exaggeration. When I asked him if he thought he had a sex addiction or was really that horny, he responded by saying: “Sex isn’t about being horny, it’s about power.” I realized then that Ben was likely on a hunt for all the power he could get…

Ben also didn’t seem to have any solid friendships, everyone in the gay scene knew him, but when he and I were hanging out he was always alone with me; I never met any of his friends. He also described having a rough childhood where he had to take on “parenting” tasks as his folks were getting divorced and he had to hide it from his siblings. He said his father constantly told him to hide his emotions, punishing him if he let his feelings show. He said his family moved every 2 years or so due to being in the military, never having a sense of stability, never making solid friends, and never connecting with anyone for very long. He’d frequently mention his desire to move, to leave all behind, and escape his problems here for another place. I told him that’s not how things typically worked, that running away from problems didn’t leave the problems behind, it brought them with you. He disagreed; he recanted cutting all ties with his family for 3 years, moving across the country, trying to figure out his life; he said his problems remained back in the DMV,not following him where he went. He mentioned he had no issues disconnecting from his family during that period, never once speaking to them until he returned. He told me about a boyfriend he’d lived with for 4 years and one day, Ben up and left him. He said his boyfriend had become complacent, and Ben felt he was standing in the way of him reaching his potential. So Ben left him, and as a result, the ex was forced to grow up, go to college, and now was making a 6 figure salary: “I had no problems leaving him because I knew I was doing it to help him, to make him grow, and it worked.” It also seemed odd to me: all I’d ever wanted in life was love, and I couldn’t imagine finally finding it, and then after 4 years suddenly leaving it behind when a good sit-down talk could have helped resolve things. But to each their own… one thing was clear: Ben was confident in himself, he didn’t depend on the approval of others, he was fine being on his own, and he didn’t allow anyone to tie him down at all, he did what he wanted, there was little compromise, he was stubborn as hell, he was dead-set in his ways and beliefs, and whom he deemed as “worthy” and “beneficial” to have around was set in stone from the first greeting and didn’t change much thereafter. At the time while I found it odd, I respected him for it; I was insecure and often agreed to things I didn’t want to do, whereas Ben stuck to his guns, and didn’t end up in the same predicaments as I often did. When it came to dating, he wouldn’t settle for anything other than his ideal mate; he had no issues explaining to me time and again how I didn’t fit his “ideal” and that’s all he’d seek. He had all these ideals, these visions for his future that he felt were necessary to be happy: he wanted kids, a great-paying job in information technology, he wanted to live by the beach, he insisted on having a grand wedding.

While Ben didn’t seem to do many good things for me, I continued having my eyes out on his best interests. I noticed a lesion on his butt, it looked to be a rectal fissure or fistula, I wasn’t certain, but I knew it didn’t look good and it needed surgery. Through surgeons I knew from working in the community, I managed to land Ben an appointment with the best of the best – a surgeon whose waiting list was 6 months long just for a baseline appointment – only I was able to shenagle it so that Ben was seen the next week. Like with his HIV meds, Ben didn’t seem all that appreciative, but then again, nobody wants surgery, and often people don’t appreciate their “peers” pointing out medical problems that need further investigation. Nonetheless, Ben booked the surgery, and I was more excited than he was – not that surgery is every a reason to be excited – but because he was in the best hands, and the area I saw looked like, if untreated, could turn into cancer one day. So regardless of what Ben thought, I knew what I was doing was something that would not only change this life but possibly save it. I was far from perfect, but I believed I was a good friend to Ben, I believed that I put his best interests before anything else, and just as I’d aimed to do (regardless of his frequent immature treatment), I felt like I was being the best friend I could to him.

Discard: January, 2015

I didn’t mind helping Ben out and having it go unnoticed. However, I found myself becoming more and more bummed in the relationship. My self-esteem was falling by the minute based on how he made me feel so… ugly, so run-of-the-mill, so un-exciting.

One day I decided to research the term “psychopath” on the internet after Ben mentioned it another time, and in doing so, stumbled upon Narcissistic Personality Disorder – a close relative to psychopathy. In reading it I couldn’t help but see many of Ben’s strange quirks being described, although the over-the-top behavior described in the article didn’t match Ben at all, who was introverted and quiet.

But still… I wondered if he might have a little of that in him, maybe that’s why nobody can figure him out like he said, maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem to have empathy or concern for my feelings, maybe that’s why he has a dark side he keeps hidden yet warns you not to cross.

I sent Ben an email, and included a portion of the article in it, asking him if perhaps he thought that was why he had a “dark side” and if it might explain some of his nuances. Ben called me 2 days later, having gotten out of surgery a few hours before. I asked him how things went, and what he said surprised me:

“Things went well. Oh, and I read your email by the way. You will never hear from me, speak to me, or see me again. I’m blocking you in my phone and I want nothing to do with you. You’re discarded from my life: you will never find closure. Goodbye!”

Suddenly – the feeling I got when my ex up and vanished came back full-force, and I was experiencing it all over again. Why had he gotten so offended with what I wrote? After all, he was mistreating me really badly, this was at my lowest of the lows in my life, he had the chance to be a true friend, a role model and instead he treated me like crap. Why would one stupid article about narcissism – one word for that matter, narcissist – create such a whirlwind of animosity inside him? I didn’t get it, but what I did get was Ben’s never-ending silent treatment: I was discarded just as he said I would be. I had never felt so much pain in my life, such humiliation, such confusion and betrayal. Ben, albeit having issues, felt like family to me, and initially he’d treated me like gold. How he suddenly had no empathy for leaving me all alone made my stomach sink to the ground; how he wanted nothing to do with me and flat-out cut me out of his life –  all because I asked if he might be a narcissist – seemed over-the-top, seemed very immature and juvenile, it was as if he was punishing me for having criticized him about something that perhaps was true, look at his reaction. If someone asked me that very question about having narcissistic traits, I’d have laughed, I wouldn’t disown them.

I tried for several weeks to get him to cave, I reached out repeatedly by email and using my home phone, which he quickly blocked, as well. Ben’s stubborn ways made certain that his word was the only word, and that I’d be banished from his life all for suggesting he had narcissistic traits. And the truth was: he did, big time. Only I didn’t realize just how big yet, I thought he was selfish, vain, overly confident when he didn’t have the accomplishments to match, and a slight bully. What had I done to him that was so wrong? I’d merely endured his abuse, and when I called him out on it, he ensured that I was further abused for crossing him, for perhaps forcing him to see himself as he truly was, as not the perfect, all-American boy he wanted to pretend he was: Ben couldn’t handle that the “ideal” self he saw of himself was, in fact, just a phony.

While the ending of my last relationship changed my life in a way that it could never be repaired, my ending with Ben might have took what little hope I had left…

…and threw it into a deep, dark, ravine that kept leading further into darkness…

        …and it would only get darker until Ben finished off what he’d started. Because while I’d read a few articles on Narcissistic Personality Disorder at that point in time, I didn’t actually think Ben was part of that club, no way. I believed he had narcissistic traits and was a bit immature in his putting others down to make himself feel better, but I never believed that Ben was some sort of monster. I attributed his behavior to his life experiences, to being pimped out at a young age, and to escorting. I still viewed him as a person, as a human being that was inherently good deep-down, only that goodness was just hiding out somewhere, waiting to come out in time. I didn’t view him as evil, as a vampire whose only mission in life was to tear others down until they were nothing – all so that at he could suck the life out of whomever, and feel some tiny amount of pleasure, leaving them drained and practically dead, all so he could feel validated. Never in a million years did I think that worse was on its way, not after what I’d been through already. I mean, a person can only take so much before they break, right? God, karma, the powers that be, they give good people breaks, especially after putting them through unbelievable hell like me, right?

          Ben: he couldn’t he be worse than my ex, he wasn’t that sort of animal, right? No way in hell; at least that’s what I thought, despite how badly he’d treated me.

                        I’ll give credit when it’s due, regardless of interpersonal strains. It was through Ben’s mentioning of the word psychopath that I finally came to research the topic, and began reading about it more and more as I discovered a great deal of information that took me by surprise: it was like reading the biography of my ex, it was like reading about every single thing I’d experienced with him that left me dumbfounded, now suddenly I felt enlightened, suddenly I had that moment of epiphany wherein finally I understood what I’d just dealt with.

Suddenly it all made perfect sense, well, not really because nothing makes sense when dealing with a psychopath, nothing makes logical sense that is – but now knowing what I did, in the context of psychopathy, it all made total sense, if that makes any sense. Thinking back on Ben, on all the good, and the bad, I couldn’t help but feel like I had lost someone special, someone I never got to learn important life lessons from.  And all because of a stupid word. I felt sad, I felt lonely, I felt like I’d never, ever find love in this world. Ben, even with his nasty side, had an incredible side that I truly missed. It was painful knowing he’d blocked me completely from his life and I’d never, ever see him again. With my ex so many things happened at once it was complete pandemonium, whereas this was one, abrupt slice out of my life – gone. It was the most painful thing I’ve experienced honestly, and I will never forget that.

I didn’t even know what narcissism actually entailed at the time, I just thought it meant that someone was wired to be a bit egotistical and selfish; I didn’t know that clinical narcissism is a disorder of delusion, it’s a pathology akin to psychopathy and sociopathy, in fact, many experts argue that they’re one in the same.

  I won’t deny that for whatever reason, maybe it was the timing right after my ex, after my HIV diagnosis, that this one event stung so badly that I failed to fully recover from it. It left me feeling worse than how I’d felt when I first met Ben. Only I never imagined that this was just the beginning of Ben’s end for me...

Several months later, I got word that my neighbor John was arrested: he ended up getting thrown in the slammer for… 9 years   Ugh. It was sad to lose his wicked sense of sarcasm, and his pursuit for fun and anything that would seep out dopamine.  It was sad because his whole life was taken away in an instant. It was beyond sad, it was awful.

One random day that winter, I got a call from police investigators; they were calling about John; they wanted to speak with me, and I did, I had nothing to hide. I answered their questions truthfully and then went on my way. It seemed rather out-of-place, very strange, that they’d contacted me of all people. I didn’t know what all he’d been into, but it turned out to be a lot. I’d taken care of his cat when he’d leave town and that summer we’d hung out quite a bit, but other than that, we weren’t like besties, I didn’t even know about the operation he had going on. I knew very little, and they seemed frustrated but I was honest. But I wasn’t much use to them, and they thanked me and said goodbye.

I forgot all about this event for quite some time… and not once did I think there was any connection here between characters: Ben, John, “those people” from law enforcement… they were all distinct part of the chaos of the universe I believed. But in time I’d discover that wasn’t exactly the case; get ready for the smear campaign of all smear campaigns, brought into the new millennium, complete with e-Gaslighting!

    I was so upset losing Ben, and I tried reaching him every few weeks for several months, but I never got through. I had slighted his ego tremendously in asking if he was a narcissist. I didn’t understand in the slightest bit why that one word would have such a giant impact on him but my conclusion was that he must be a narcissist after all. Big deal, I thought, why get so upset? Because I was still clueless regarding what a narcissist truly is… they’ve the most vile, evil creations in existence.  Ben was one, and so he knew precisely what that word meant; I didn’t. Nor did I know the grave sin I committed that day when I opened my mouth.