#truly hated myself and i sincerely doubt i ever will. but the fact i often suceed and rise from my failures that sometimes they don't feel

[astrxealis]

damn i never thought i'd get into stardew valley this much but here we are !! makes perfect sense tho

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 20 - My Friend Bashi (Part 1)

We had reached the milestone of 20 episodes, and I want to sincerely thank the readers for sticking with me so far. :)

I also have a small announcement: after finishing liveblogging this episode, I will take a very small break from the show to do some reading of articles and comics instead.

It's starting to feel awkward - constantly referencing some canon materials without reviewing them on this blog proper, y'know? I originally planned to do this all at once, before the movie, but I think it'll be more fun to do it in multiple reading breaks, during the show.

So many kids in this city, and Joris is friends with none of them. Except for Tatak.

All analysis and plot leaves my body as I think about how much Kerubim cares about Joris.

He's really not perfect, but no matter how much I joke about his failures, he really does care and try his best.

He's too nice for me to actually make fun of in any serious manner.

It's very nice to see the more down-low, bittersweet moments of parenting and childhood portrayed. It's also nice that it's just between the two of them, without Simone.

I love her, but it's very cute to see just Joris and Kerubim, and how they act when they're alone together.

I think that it's interesting, that even at 7yo, Joris is already at the... "this one social interaction was a disaster, and it's over, just irredeemably over"-level overthinking about relationships.

Perhaps it's knowing that for Kerubim it, often times, was like that. Kerubim did inspire very many people to either hate him with passion, or leave him.

Perhaps it's the fact that, besides Kerubim, Kerubim's friends, and Simone, he doesn't have a family; and besides Tatak, he doesn't seem to have any friends: and that makes him struggle with the idea of losing relationships.

Keke I will be real, I think Tatak is his only friend in general.

...Man. I am making myself sad by writing these things.

I don't think Joris ever had good social skills in his life. Just issues after issues.

As I've said in the previous posts, both Keke and Joris have an issue with needing to be liked always all the time, and the way it makes them do things to seem Cool and Awesome. Even if Joris has this issue in a very introverted way.

It might just be normal kids stuff, but it does add a certain flair to the things we see him do as an adult, if one accepts the idea he's always been like this.

Kerubim's way of connecting to others is to draw from his own experiences, and compare them. It's a more... mature way of cheering up people, than just saying "it gets easier!" like he used to.

For all his faults, Kerubim has grown emotionally from his youth. But it can be a thin line between making everything about yourself, and trying to say that it gets better from experience.

Even so, Joris cares a lot about his experiences and life (cough cough. the Lore), so it works for them, both as a way to distract him and to cheer him up. Kerubim knows this, it's his go-to technique.

Anyway.

I think Kerubim either vastly overestimates the depth of what happened here (I highly doubt Ecaflip is giving him tasks because he's "the best"), or he is lying to Joris, because "I spent my whole childhood afraid that my father, who is a living god, would eat me Zeus-style, because of shit like cleaning the toilets badly or not delivering the fish on time." isn't a nice story.

This is exactly what I'm talking about.

A small aside: according to The Wheel Of Destiny #8 Kerubim Crepin (which will be one of the things I liveblog during the Reading Break), Bashi and Kerubim became friends before the events of episode 3, Strich Hunt.

It makes a lot of sense, because before the events of that episode, Ecaflip had... a very rough way of treating and speaking to Kerubim. Even if he had a soft spot for him, enough to save him (and then manipulate him) during said Wheel of Destiny article, I think Kerubim only truly cemented himself as Ecaflip's most favourite in the Strich Hunt episode.

Also, considering the fact that in Wheel of Destiny, little Bashi reports to knowing and strongly disliking Atcham, it's safe to say that in this episode we have a confirmed instance of Atcham being canonically present and simply not mentioned.

...keke sure is the guy who says "im the last living crepin. laugh" while having a brother. insane.

I yet again want to gush about the portrayal of relationships in this show.

I think all of us can relate to meeting someone, and not thinking much, �� not yet knowing that they will turn out to be one of the coolest people you've ever met.

Anyway, tangent incoming.

One thing that's interesting to me, is that Kerubim is never depicted as having friends in the temple. From what we see, he spends most of the time alone, or with Ecaflip.

The reasons may be:

He is Ecaflip's favorite. He had important tasks from the moment he joined the temple. It alienated people.

He was Atcham's brother. Kids are judgemental, and Atcham is a perfect bullying target. Chances are, they didn't like him due to the association.

He came in very mentally ill and unsociable, due to, y'know, being orphaned, and never managed to make friends because the impression that he's "the sad mentally ill kid" stayed.

No wonder that he got anxious around three people, and then immediately trusted them when they were nice to him.

He probably hadn't had anyone be nice to him in ages. Or, like, acknowledge him too much, at the very least.

I won't elaborate on how I think Atcham was treated in the temple lest I fucking scare you, (Something-something, literally catboy Rule of Rose,) but I will say that, just like Atcham is still violently mentally ill due to whatever happened to him, Kerubim's experiences with loneliness and alienation as a child most likely fueled his dishonesty and attention-seeking behaviours as an adult.

So I understand why, even though Bashi kinda sucks, Kerubim is so broken up about losing him. There's a lot more tragedy to this than one can first see.

It was a very important moment for Kerubim to finally have a person in his life that wasn't his father (who constantly threatened to fucking eat him), one of the kids who either disliked him or were too intimidated to talk to him, one of the random monks, or his severely mentally ill brother (who fucking hated him.)

He was his first friend.

[juniorgman187]

Never Enough (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: Ever wondered what Garcia wrote on that sticky note in the series finale? Read here to find out. When Reader, the new technical analyst, feels out of place at a party, Penelope’s sticky note and Reid’s kind words do just the trick.

A/N: This is a comfort piece for me, someone very introverted who never seems to do well in social gatherings. So this is dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. You are loved. Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble Content Warning: Fear of exclusion, loneliness Word Count: 2.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All my life, all I’d ever wanted was to be a social butterfly. Their lives seemed so easy. People would naturally flock to them, what with their charisma, their confidence, their natural gift of being conversational.

I envied them for the sole reason that I was nothing like them, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t easy for me to keep a conversation going, even if I was trying my very hardest, which was often the case. I could never seem to commandeer the room in the way that someone extroverted could, and it was especially hard sometimes to feel a part of everyone.

It would be too easy to say I was invisible. Instead, I felt painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

Everyone could see my shyness peeking through, everyone could see how alienated I’d become, everyone could see my despondence, and yet no one bothered to change it.

No one cared.

My excruciating awkwardness had reached an all-time high at Krystall’s birthday party.

Agent Rossi was so keen on inviting me, and I was honored to go since it’d be my first bonding experience with the team outside of work. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to grow closer to them, otherwise, I’d run the risk of isolating myself even more. As if being brought in as the BAU’s new technical analyst to replace Penelope Garcia wasn’t enough of a reason for them to doubt, despise, and disrespect me, I was the introvert who had a hard time making friends - unlike my predecessor, who’ve I heard could make friends like nobody’s business. I knew I could never fill her shoes, much less fill the glaring void she created when she left, but still, I maintained my bright-eyes in hopes that I’d be enough for them, anyway. I was all too eager to get to know everyone as more than just my coworkers, with one exception.

Dr. Reid maintained an arm’s length distance from me at all times, and at first, I understood. I even empathized with him.

Besides SSA Morgan and SSA Hotchner, the only other person that he’d work the longest with was Penelope, and now she was gone, too, but the longer his rejection of me lasted, the more I was curious what he truly had against me, and the more I was less interested in changing that. Why would I work tirelessly at mending this broken friendship, if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway?

I was more shocked that he, of all people, would be the most displeased with my arrival. When Agent Rossi replaced Agent Gideon, from what I heard, the transition wasn’t as rocky as mine. Dr. Reid was overjoyed to be working with him and to discuss all his books. When Jordan Todd, and eventually Ashley Seaver, took Agent Jareau’s place momentarily, he was happy to be working with them. When Alex Blake and Kate Callahan came in after Emily Prentiss, he welcomed them with open arms. So what was it about me that was so abhorrent to him?

I never outright asked, mainly because I feared confrontation and I also had no way of knowing if my curiosity would make the situation worse or better. But I should’ve. I should’ve marched right up to him and asked, “What’s your problem?”

Somehow, though, I finally got up the courage to do so tonight.

I watched as the team laughed at one of Rossi’s anecdotes, meanwhile, the inside jokes flew over my head, hindering that bonding experience I was so sure I’d get by coming here. So I stepped inside the house, wandering into a spare room, knowing I wouldn’t be missed.

I thought I’d only be there for a moment to get some “fresh air” even though I’d actually migrated from the outside to the inside, where there’d arguably be less fresh air, but that’d be my excuse if anyone came in. But I was forced to stay longer in the office when it finally happened.

I finally reached my breaking point.

It was building up all night. It started when I first stepped into the house. My confidence faltered almost immediately when I accidentally stepped on Rossi’s Italian leather dress shoe as I went to greet him. He told me not to worry, but of course, I did just the opposite. It was a minor bump in the road, something so minute, but still, it weighed on me thinking about how embarrassing it was that I dirtied something of his that everyone recognized as valuable.

My shame didn’t stop there. As I was talking with Krystall, there were many periods of awkward silence that I couldn’t manage to fill with words, so we each sipped at our wine until one of us would try to pick up the conversation. What’s worse was that we each knew the silence was suffocating, and I could tell we were both thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going, and yet, nothing worth saying came to mind.

And worst of all was when Penelope Garcia finally arrived at the party. Don’t misunderstand me - it wasn’t the worst part of all because she was bad - no, she was lovely. She gave me a welcome present - a Beanie Baby to put on my desk, evocative of her own style of decor, and I loved her for it, which made me hate her all the more.

Rossi’s house livened up when she came. Everyone flocked to greet her, laughter erupted and ricocheted off Rossi’s high ceilings. They were positively elated by her presence, truly happy. Which was the first time I’d ever seen them that way because frankly, they were never that happy with me.

It was a painful reminder that I could never bring what she brought to the team, and I could never be as good as her. And the general consensus I reached, sitting in Rossi’s office all alone with my glass of wine, was the same one I’d known for years now - I’m not enough.

And I will never be enough.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear cascaded down my cheek, dripping right under my nose, forcing me to audibly sniffle it away. Using the sleeve of my cardigan, I desperately tried to wipe away the tears faster than they were spilling out, but it just wasn’t possible. In fact, the coarse fabric of my cardigan rubbing against my cheeks only made them redder, making the fact that I was unwell that much more obvious.

The sound of the doorknob turning sent me into overdrive, automatically engaging me into turning around and facing the wall so that whoever was coming in wouldn’t find me in the state that I was in. I sniffled a great big sniffle and fanned my face to dry it of any moisture that my silent sobs could’ve left.

“Sorry, Rossi, I was just getting some fresh air and I thought I’d check out your book collectio-”

When I turned around, Rossi wasn’t standing there as I’d assumed.

In fact, the person standing there was the last person I thought it’d be.

“Dr. Reid?”

He was lingering in the doorway, studying my face, to which I instantly preventing from continuing on any further by cowering my head and looking away.

“What are you doing here?” My voice had taken a tone of anger that I didn’t anticipate to be there originally.

“Are you okay?”

To my surprise, his question seemed sincere, but I couldn’t truly believe it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just allergies from being outside for so long. The pollen and stuff, you know?” I rambled nervously.

“Oh, really? Are you allergic to the grass?” He asked in a joking manner, knowing I was lying but still asking so that he’d have the satisfaction of getting to see me try and work my way out of the situation.

“Yes, I am actually. The most common outdoor allergy triggers are trees, grass, weed pollen, mold spores, dust mites, cockroaches, and cat, dog, and rodent dander. Don’t you know this? After all, you’re the one with the IQ of 187 here, not me.” I tried to joke to lighten up the room’s heaviness, but clearly, it didn’t work.

By this time, I’d already turned back to face the wall, so Reid surely couldn’t see me, but I heard the door click shut behind me, and a wave of anxiety permeated my soul.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

I scoffed at his question, almost hitting him back with an “As if you care.” But I decided against it in an effort to preserve what little repose we had left between us.

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded like he was begging - like he was practically willing to go on his hands and knees to get me to answer, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over my neck.

Goosebumps rose on my skins once he put his warm hand on my cold shoulder, which was bare from the absence of my cardigan and where it had slipped down to my elbow.

I flinched at the sensation, causing him to recoil.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He quickly apologized, regret filling his eyes. “Um, you look nice by the way. I like the way you did your hair. A-and your dress. It looks nice.”

Not even giving a chance to respond to his compliment, I asked again, “Why are you here?” Pressing him to get the point faster before I had a chance to react at another one of his physical advances.

“I saw you leave the backyard and I thought I should check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me, so you can go back now.” I didn’t miss a beat when responding, fooling him into thinking that I didn’t catch his words and their intentions.

“I just want to talk.” He replied, finally answering my question from before.

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

He took a seat on a chaise lounge sofa while I stayed standing by the bookcase in preparation for a quick escape if need be.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Although I hadn’t expected him to apologize, I wasn’t going to be misled and naively accept his apology with no reservations.

“Why did you do it? And for so long?”

“I was angry. I didn’t want another person in my life that I cared about to walk away, so I thought maybe if I made you feel unwelcome, you wouldn’t want to stay. And she’d come back.”

It hurt to say, but at least I knew he was being honest.

“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, are we good now? We’ve talked, so,” My hand gestured toward the door, suggesting he should leave, but he didn’t comply.

“I’m not leaving.”

“And why not?” The wine glass in my hand nearly shattered at the way my hand wrapped around it since its presence hindered me from being able to actually clench my fists.

“I didn’t come here to apologize, even though I should’ve sooner. But I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Like you care.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do care.”

I gave in, not wanting to fight him any longer, otherwise, I might cry some more from the altercation.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” He shook his head. “I know you’re not fine. What’s really wrong, Y/N?”

I looked away immediately from his gaze, trying to hide the sheen that was inevitably coating my eyes from the presence of tears, but he would’ve known I was crying the minute I used the cuff of my cardigan to wipe under my nose again.

“I just . . . I feel so unconnected,” I whispered, the pain of my words stealing my volume. “I don’t fit in. And I’ve never fit in before, but I actually thought this might be my chance.”

“It still is. Just come back outside.”

“You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“I just needed to take a moment to compose myself so I wouldn’t ruin the energy of the room. And I’d really like to do that alone, okay?”

“I know you don’t want me to go.”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’ll stay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re saying that if I left right now, you wouldn’t regret letting me walk away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. I know what it looks like when you lie. Wanna know how I know?”

I entertained his question out of pure frustration “How?”

“Because I pay attention to you. I see your mannerisms. I notice everything. Do you think I haven’t picked up on how you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous? Or how your stutter goes away when you talk about technology? Or how your fists clench, like how you’re doing right now?”

My eyes flickered to my fist that was wrapped so tightly around the glass, my knuckles were white. Out of shame, I loosened my grip.

“I pay attention because I care. And I’m sorry that I made you ever believe that I didn’t. What you do, and say, and think - it’s important. So no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here to give you the attention you deserve.” He sighed with a breath of relief. “I care more about you than whatever’s happening out there.”

And slowly, then all at once, that barrier between us broke down.

“I care about you. We all do. And when you’re ready, we can walk back out there together so that you can see for yourself just how much we care.”

. . . That night, I made nine more friends.

And the day we came back to work, with my Beanie Baby in hand, I rearranged my desk.

A folded up sticky note fell out from between two tables. I picked it up, recognizing the handwriting instantly.

Penelope Garcia.

Even when the laughter always seems to come from the other room and the world seems busy as it carries on without you, may you know this to be true. No matter who or what made you feel invisible, unworthy, unloved, or unseen, in this ever-moving world, there is still a place for you. And you are exactly in the place where you are meant to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

quote by morgan harper nichols

[spectrumed]

10. contact

The key to success is networking. Oh, God, how am I ever going to succeed? Networking? Talking to other people? Making friends? That’s not me, that’s not me at all. I don’t want to make superficial connections with other people just so that I can one day use my connections to get ahead in life. I don’t want to force myself on others, trying to convince them that I am some decent guy that’s totally worth getting to know and be friends with. I don’t know if you’re going to like me or not. I imagine some people would like to be my friend, and I imagine some people would hate to be my friend. I’d rather just forget about the latter group, and not torture myself trying to make friends with people who are fundamentally at odds who I am as a person. I’d rather have a small circle of close friends than a thousand acquaintances. But the key to success is networking.

I’ll never be an insider. This is not me just doubting myself, not some decision to undermine myself. I know that making statements about things that are impossible for you to achieve comes across as very self-defeating, but I know that I will never be an insider. I will never fit into a social clique. I am not going to be part of the boys’ club, yucking it up with my mates. I’m not going to be in any gangs, no bands, most certainly no crews. I am a solo-player. I prefer to work on my own. All my life, I’ve kept to myself, one way or another. I don’t ask for help. Growing up, my sister used to get a lot of help from my mother with school assignments, because she wanted it and she asked for it. My sister and my mother would spend a lot of time together making sure that my sister’s schoolwork turned out well. Looking over spelling, fixing grammatical errors, making sure that the text was easy to read and had a flow to it. Normal parental stuff, really. Kids are supposed to get help from their parents, it’s part of the learning process, no-one gets by all on their own. Well, except for me. I never asked for help.

I actually found it really unbearable to have my mother look over my schoolwork to see if I made any errors. Not because I am such a horrid narcissist that I refuse to admit that there were any errors, but rather because… well, it felt invasive. Like as if you spot someone spying on you through your window. It made me feel very self-conscious, in a way that I realise now is similar to how I feel when I make eye contact. Yes, I am bad at making eye contact, especially when I am speaking at the same time. I don’t mind making eye contact when you are speaking, but I don’t want to make eye contact with you when I am speaking. Is that funny? Is that odd? Well, the way I feel about it is that eye contact is intimate, it’s almost like touching. It’s mental touching. If you share eye contact with somebody you are sharing a connection. You are mind-touching each other. Oh, well… I guess that maybe it’s not quite like that, but I still don’t find it easy.

At times, I find much of the discussions about neurodiversity online somewhat off-putting. Especially when it comes to those people who are really keen on being all out positive, all the time. Those people who see any shade of negativity as outright hazardous. Don’t bring up the fact that being neurodivergent can be difficult, don’t mention the difficulties that come with being on the autism spectrum. Engage with self-empowerment! Celebrate what makes you different! Go out there and be proud of yourself, be happy about your autism, it is cool to be autistic! And, sure, I understand the importance of injecting optimism into the neurodivergent community. We need optimism, we need to profess our desire to be happy, to show the world that you don’t need to be neurotypical to be content with your life. No-one wants to be around a sourpuss just wallowing in their discontentment. But, sometimes things just suck, okay? Having a positive attitude may project confidence, may make others think you’ve got it together, but be wary when that positive attitude just becomes a mask you hide behind.

Look, we live in a society. Whether you like it or not, you live in a society. We need to rage against this society, because this society is no good. Things may look good to some people, but those people are wrong, and I am right. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Let’s have ourselves a little revolution and see if we can piece a new society together, one that doesn’t commit to the same mistakes as the last one. Oh, wait, how do we do that? And how do we make sure that we win the revolution, we could easily lose, and that might actually just make things worse for us. What if this society we live in got even worse? Yikes, that’s a thought too scary to even really consider. Can things get worse? I don’t want things to get worse. Maybe I just shouldn’t rock the boat. Let’s calm down, and let’s not make any rash decisions here. We can overthrow society at some other point. For now, let’s just have some tea.

Yes, society stinks, but what can you do about it? It is absolutely the case that neurotypical people have it easier navigating modern society than neurodivergent people. Others expect you to function just like they function. If you wish to fit in, you are required to act more neurotypical. People expect that from you. Learn to adapt, to hide amongst them. Trick them. Make them think you are one of them. Be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. They’ll never know the truth of who you are. An outsider that managed to get on the inside. You stand by the watercooler, and by gosh, you make yourself laugh at their jokes even though you’d rather not be there at all. You partake in the small talk, talking about the weather, feigning interest in the footballs, and pretending to be an all-around wholesome compatriot. You’re not at all secretly some kind of anti-social misfit, who’d rather stay at home sitting behind a monitor and playing strategy games on your own. Do you want to come and join your workmates for a drink or two later? Oh, yes, of course you’d like that, but you might need to limit your alcohol intake so that you don’t get too drunk and begin to let the mask slip. It’s too easy getting into hyper-specific rants about obscure topics no normal person would care about when you’re inebriated, so let’s not risk that.

“Be yourself.” Pfth, bah, humbug. Neurotypicals love to state empty platitudes. You don’t want me to be myself. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to be myself. Call me a cynic all you want, but you can’t get nowhere in life simply by being yourself. For better or worse, authenticity is nowhere near as desired as some people make it out to be. Name a single really successful person who is truly themselves. Fake-authenticity does better than the real deal. True sincerity, of the kind that’s naked, shameless, ugly, and challenging, it is difficult to love. And that’s not all bad, it’s just a fact of life. We all need to cover some things about ourselves up, and need to keep some secrets, because that is what is expected from us. Just as we wear clothes to cover up our naked bodies. No shame on the nudists, they’re free to embrace whatever alternative lifestyle they want, but I don’t want to see your naked body. Don’t get nude in front of me. I already struggle with eye contact, I sure wouldn’t struggle less if you stood in front of me nude as well.

Actually, to a certain extent, these social rules we all conform to can actually be quite appreciated by those of us who are on the spectrum. It is easier to know what you must do in a formal social situation than in a casual social situation. Casual people, they’re just so… unpredictable. Sticking their casual bits everywhere, acting like guests at your house who don’t seem to understand that your home is not their home. Even as a kid I hated having friends of mine over at my place. They’d play with my toys, place my toys where they don’t belong, or even worse, they may break some of my toys. Don’t touch that, it’s mine. Don’t put your icky hands on my bed, I sleep there. Don’t rip pages out of that book, it’s my favourite book. Don’t breathe in my room, I breathe in my room. I just can’t handle you coming here and disturbing the peace. I had it all ordered, I knew where everything was, and I liked it. Now you brought with you the forces of chaos, and dealing with that is just now what I had in mind for today.

I could never be a freemason. Sure, I have some good ideas for how to secretly rule the world, but if you’re a freemason, you’re expected to be part of the team. There’s no “I” in freemasonry. The secret cabal that controls all of the world’s governments, they don’t want independent folks like me to show up thinking that I can do my work assignments on my own. The Illuminati is run by a committee. You don’t get far in that world by being some freewheeling bohemian incapable of getting along with others. You don’t establish a New World Order by promoting self-reliance. Institutions are great for those who like to get chummy with their pals, the gregarious sorts who know exactly who to talk to in order to advance in the ranks. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Favours for favours. One of the reasons why I inherently distrust many institutions is because they are rife with nepotism. You know that whoever gets to sit on the high council of the Illuminati didn’t get there via competency alone. No, they knew a guy, who was cousins with this other guy, who used to work for this guy, and y’know, you pull one string and suddenly there you are on top of the social hierarchy. Most often people get promoted, not because they do good work, but because they happen to know the right people. But again, maybe I’m just being cynical.

I’ve had a recurring fantasy, in the past, of being a lighthouse keeper. Living out somewhere all on my own, not having to deal with any human relationships. Maybe I could befriend a seagull, but even that seems a little too much. Seagulls can be very needy. No, I’d just get on with whatever I’d most like to be doing, writing or making art, just enjoying my solitude. I imagine that the toughest thing about being a lighthouse keeper is the loneliness, but the loneliness is only a plus for me. I’ve long ago decided to like being lonely. I don’t want to face the fact that I too yearn for company, I like to pretend as if I am fine with being alone. So the fantasy of being a lighthouse keeper is perfect for me, I could get far away from society and I could earn a living not having to give a fuck about what others think about me. I could allow myself to get as weird as I would want to get, not having to wash my image, acting like I’m all rational and well-adjusted. It would just be me and my seagull. How simple life would be. Too bad I think most lighthouses are automated, these days.

Maybe being the perpetual malcontent cynic incapable of fitting with mainstream society isn’t all so bad. In some regards, I have made that my brand. Generally, I like to think that I don’t take myself too seriously, but like a lot of people, I’ve turned those edgier parts of my personality into armour that I wear to protect myself from the scorn of others. You can’t accuse me of being a miserable piece of shit when I’ve decided to make being a miserable piece of shit my thing. It’s what I am, and I am not going to change. I’m not really all that mean, or nasty. I am fairly cynical, but I don’t act like some asshole. I don’t think anyone is upset with me for how I act. I’ve only occasionally gotten told off for being too gloomy. But the problem here does not lie with how I end up treating others, but rather how I end up treating myself. I don’t want to make cynicism part of my sense of self. I don’t want to be this person, this misanthrope who only sees problems, and never celebrates the good things in life. I should engage with self-empowerment. I should be happy.

It’s okay being neurodivergent! Sure, you may find other people strange or foreign, with their yapping mouths and their over-eager desire to look you directly in the eyes, but just ignore them! Neurotypicals are just so last century, the future is all neurodivergent! You’re on the right side of history, bud! You’re cool, and radical, and you’re absolutely a sexy little cupcake. You either learn to love yourself, or you lose yourself. Make funny memes, find some online community to be a part of. You can absolutely be a freemason if you want to be a freemason. Don’t let your diagnosis get in your way, so long as you’ve got that inner fire driving you, you can be anything you want to be. Go ahead and rule the world, babe. Remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and right now, it’s good vibes only.

[gemsofgreece]

Has any politician of power ever called out Merkel, about what it's like to see Germany -former Nazi Germany- with it's recent history in Greece & the world, backing Turkey -former Ottoman empire- with its recent history in Greece Cyprus, Armenia & the world? When Hitler rationalized the holocaust because "who after all remembers the Armenians" & Turkey still has to answer to the genocides it committed, & gets more & more entries written about it in Genocide Watch??

This answer can go wrong in so many ways and I am afraid it might. I sincerely tell you my intent was to be analytical and not judgemental. I am not sure I succeeded but if this answer makes you bombard me with hate anons, please note I will not answer.

What politician would dare say that... Certainly not a Greek. And the rest of EU also mostly obey Germany so nobody would say this, not even a French because that sure is a very bold thing to say.

I had a thought sort of similar to what you say though. I was thinking that it’s interesting how slow true change is, even if it is already completed in theory or nominally. For example, Germany has done - let’s say - everything to leave its past behind and redeem itself and yet, even though the violent days are fortunately over, Germany is now accused of a different form of expansionism via the EU and financial relations. So even though the method has changed dramatically, the intent of controlling Europe remains. And to connect this exactly to your ask, Germany and Turkey have been allies in both World Wars I think. Even though Germany denounces its past, it retains friendly bonds to countries that assisted it at evil times. This happens because everyone rushes to put all the blame to basically one sinister man alone but national memory and conscience, even unintentionally, can not change rapidly. Germany and Turkey are historical allies and this is engraved in memory no matter what. And also, we all know that South Europeans often report cases of discrimination in North Europe. This doesn’t apply only to Germany but it certainly includes Germany and I have two stories from very close friends that took place in Germany and helped me realise it. You can also see it through the Greek crisis which worked as a great excuse for the German media to unleash inexplicable hate and propaganda against the Greek nation. To be sure, we have shitty politicians but how did this give the right to random Germans to equate our identity to a joke and our ancestry to a lie? Well it didn’t. This hate propaganda had made quite a few young Greeks to feel ashamed of their ethnicity a few years ago and I knew quite a few that were glorifying North Europe beyond belief and reason. Thankfully this is dying but you see what kind of effect it could have?

Turkey supposedly tried to leave the Ottoman past behind in the previous century although this is entirely up to debate and right now it is more than clear that the country has Neo-Ottoman aspirations. Moreover, apart from some short periods of friendliness, Turkey has followed an aggressive and at times downright hostile and violent policy against neighbouring nations. So, as much as I would love to say I totally believe Turkish people who speak for peace and love, I have my doubts, forgive me. Yes, I do include some people because of a) personal experience and b) someone does elect all those politicians that follow the aggressive strategies right? Last time I checked, tensions did not start with Erdogan. It’s just that a bad idea simply needs one unstable man to become truly terrifying and destructive like Germany has already proven.

Germany and Turkey understand each other because they are both expansionists still. They will work together until time comes that one will get into the other’s lane. Right now Greece is a mere annoyance to Germany which is why Germany doesn’t know what to do and how much patience to show. But someday their interests are bound to collide.

To any readers, do not get this answer the wrong way - this is not a hate post against German and Turkish people or their culture. It is though my genuine understanding of the strategies these countries follow. Don’t come to me with a “not all Germans, not all Turks” because I already know that. I don’t know if I can make myself clear enough with the term “national conscience”. What I mean is that I truly believe Germans feel totally ashamed of Hitler but that doesn’t mean Germany as a country isn’t controlling over others or that there isn’t a thing like VERY white supremacy still infesting the country. I am sure that every Turkish family wants to live in peace and tranquility but that does not change the fact that the massive collapse of the Ottoman Empire has been a shock to the national memory that Turkey can’t get over yet.

This applies to every nation. Greece is not an exception. Just so we’re fair, that damn national memory is the reason Greece (and probably the Balkans too) has so much trouble progressing. Nominally, Greeks are proud and fiercely protective of their heritage which they wish to imitate and match. For the time being, they can not do it. This is because, on the exact flip side from Turkey, Greece hasn’t managed to get rid of the syndrome of “raya” yet meaning Greece hasn’t got over the centuries long slavery (and imagine if we also add the Romans!) and the way people worked and competed against each other to ensure their own survival only, with little interest in the greater good or how they frequently relied on foreigners and oppressors to decide for their sake.

In short my answer is that change, even with the best intentions, is very very slow. Things do not change because you announce they did.

And my Greek answer is:

Όλα τριγύρω αλλάζουνε και όλα τα ίδια μένουν - Μανώλης Ρασούλης

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 3.5: No Moral nor Decency (Part 5)

Warnings: plotting

Author notes: finally, it’s coming! But well... Being undercover doesn’t allow for too much fighting...

Life was, strangely enough, rather quiet. I had been accepted rather quickly in the Cosola family, as though I had been part of it since birth. I was the first Japanese to join the organisation, and, although they had told me I would start as a soldier, they expected a lot from my knowledge about Yokohama. I managed to prove my worth through numerous chess games and strategic advice I had come up with thanks to the intelligence Dazai-san had somehow managed to develop from me. I regularly exchanged letters with my superior and spent evenings and nights deciphering the hidden code of his message to understand his next order. Obviously, he would never write such things as "take care of you" or "I miss you" sincerely... There was always a deeper meaning, a mission I had to carry for him in the Cosola family. And I had been ordered to create discord in the organisation.

Indeed, the next head of the Mafia was Vilfredo Chimienti, the future son-in-law of Don Cosola and his current consigliere. However, the godfather had a biological son, Gustavo Cosola, who, despite acting like an easygoing and nice person was innerly frustrated by this choice. He had already confessed to me a few times, when I was alone with him in his office, that he did not understand what his father had in mind. For years, the organisation had been handed down to the Cosola, and the Don wanted to make a Chimienti the next leader; it was something he could not comprehend, and he often wondered what Vilfredo had that he did not. I knew the answer for that. The consigliere was, without a doubt, more composed than him, and did not act as impulsively. However, I would never tell him and, instead, tried to support him, seldom hinted that he was suited to inherit the position of his father and flattered his ego. Unlike the executive of the Port Mafia that I served, he never beat me if I made even a single mistake, and only asked for explanations. Moreover, he listened to me and respected me, in a way. Which was why I took pleasure in taking his side nonetheless.

"Kasumi, I need to talk to you." Vilfredo opened the door suddenly, as I was discussing with Gustavo.

"I'm coming..." I hesitated.

I was Gustavo's subordinate. Except during lunch or free time, I did not talk too much with the consigliere. I wondered what he wanted.

"There is something I noticed..." He frowned "We have not lost only once against the Port Mafia, which is supposed to be the most important organisation of the city. I wonder why... Aren't these wins too easy?"

"What are you talking about?" I smiled, reassuringly "We win because we are strong...! If they aren't even able to repel a newcomer, they aren't worth their title...! Or perhaps are the organisations in that town really weak...?"

It was obviously because Dazai-san chose the pawns to sacrifice so we could better crush them afterwards... But I would not tell him.

"Thinking about it... Have you never thought about working in the Port Mafia? Why would you choose our family?" He questioned.

I did not lose my composure.

"The Port Mafia... I hate them." I lied "They are ruthless and put corpses everywhere... You... The Cosola family just arrived, but when I heard about your victory, I could not help wanting to join."

"Is that so..." He smiled, seeming glad of my answer "Well, I suppose we can keep working like this. Thank you for your time, Kasumi."

"It's my honour."

"By the way..." He stopped me before I could go out "You and Gustavo... You look very close, don't you?"

"I am his subordinate, after all..."

"Oh... Perhaps I've misinterpreted his words, then..."

That was interesting. Was he trying to create a misunderstanding in our relationship? I wanted to hear about it.

"What is it about?" I asked.

"Well... I'm not sure if I should tell you... But, anyway, if it is just a joke... He told me, once, that you would make the perfect partner. Romantically speaking."

I put a hand over my mouth to cover my smirk. That was important information I could use for myself. But seeing Vilfredo's behaviour, I could tell something was wrong with Gustavo being involved with me. I would have to take care of the matter later.

"He never told me..." I said.

"Then, you should ask him. To clear up that misunderstanding."

"Of course, I will." I assured him, "Thank you for telling me, Vilfredo-san."

Once I was back in Gustavo's office, I put on a troubled face. He obviously noticed it.

"Is there something wrong, Ogawa?" He inquired "Did Vilfredo scold you or something?"

"No... It's not that..." I shook my head "Only, he told me about something... Odd..."

"Odd...?"

"Yes... The fact you had feelings for me..." I glanced at him "He told me it was a joke... Is that really all...?"

He looked disheartened. It was not a simple joke, then...

"Well..." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head "I've been meaning to tell you... I wanted to propose after our win against the Port Mafia, but I suppose there is no need to anymore..."

"Gustavo-san... I do not share these feelings..." I warned him.

"Oh, neither do I...! I don't have any romantic sentiments towards you...!" He assured "I simply wanted to take you as a wife... For strategic purposes."

"Really...?" I chuckled "How would that help you strategically?"

"You are smart, and I know what I lack compared to Vilfredo. However, if you and I were to work together for that organisation... Then, perhaps we could surpass him and I could become the heir...!" He said, enthusiastic "What do you think? There may not be romance, but I swear to be the best husband...!"

"Your offer is tempting. I need to think about it, but you know you already have my full support to take the head of the family." I told him simply.

"Great...!"

I would destroy the unity of the Cosola family from the inside, discreetly, by exploiting the inner conflicts opposing the two potential heirs of the organisation. If both Vilfredo and Gustavo took care of each other, then the Mafia would crumble all by itself. It was not such a bad plan.

"Caretaker-san,

The Cosola family is an example of conviviality. They all get along very well, and are very respectful of each other. No one would ever dare betray the others, and although there are conflicts, like in any family, they are always quickly resolved. I really appreciate my time among them. They are friendly and trust me without even questioning me. Yesterday, Gustavo-san even proposed to me! He thinks that, with my support, he could compete against Vilfredo-san to become the heir of the family, which I decided to help him with. The consigliere did not seem too bothered by this fact and even congratulated us. I think it will be an interesting but still friendly challenge.

As always, there are so many things to say, but so little time to write. I hope to see you soon.

Best respects,

Kasumi."

"Kasumi-kun,

Congratulations on your engagement. The atmosphere in the Cosola family sounds quite warm, and I do not doubt you must find it comfortable. I do hope you will keep getting along with these lovely people. It is important to converse and exchange with them to deepen your relationships, mostly with your fiancé, Gustavo. Do try to understand him better.

Take care of you, I hope you are well. Here seems so lonely without you, but I think we can manage to meet soon, when I will finally have some spare time.

Best wishes,

Your caretaker."

His letter made me smile as I read it. Dazai-san was silently demanding me to break the Cosola family by using, as expected, the inheritance conflict opposing Vilfredo and Gustavo. Moreover, he warned me that my mission was almost over, hinting so by stating we would meet soon. I could not wait to finally go back to the Port Mafia, after all. The Italian family was a wonderful and peaceful place, but I truly belonged to another underground organisation, under another superior's orders. Despite being so badly treated by my executive, a part of me missed serving him, in a way. It was so paradoxical.

The next few weeks were dedicated to building tensions up. I had never been more dedicated to Gustavo, and people thought it was the simple effect of our engagement. In fact, I only wanted to speed up the process of arousing the disagreements between the two men, by openly taking the side of the Don's son, in any situation, whereas it was strategy, commercial business or only oenology. It frustrated Vilfredo greatly, for my scheming worked. More people were taking Gustavo's side, because he won against the Port Mafia, and even the Don was reconsidering his choice. However, the man was more greedy than expected; the Cosola family did not suffice, and such minor wins were not enough. He wanted to erase, literally, his rival and future brother-in-law. The events had not changed him the least, finally. He was still the same impulsive and blunt man. If we were to let him do, he could, without a doubt, kill Vilfredo. It would be ideal, for suppressing the consigliere was enough to ensure us a safe victory, but I was afraid the Cosola would kill Gustavo afterwards. I had to control his emotions a bit more, then, I would be able to let him take over. The moment the Don would support him as well, I would let him eliminate his opponent.

"Poison is for cowards!" He refused the vial I suggested to him.

"Then, what to use?" I sighed "Firearms? You'll wake the entire family up...!"

"I want a dual." He stated.

"Don't be ridiculous. Do you truly think they will keep supporting you if you kill Vilfredo-san so openly?"

"... You have a point..." He gave up "What's in that vial?"

"Secret recipe." I smirked "You won't be disappointed."

"Sure... Let's do that tonight."

As I went out of the office, I met Apollonia. I wondered if she had heard our talk, but she could not understand Japanese, so I was quickly reassured. She grabbed my sleeve.

"Kasumi... I... Husband sad... Why you do this?"

I was impressed that she almost made a complete sentence, but could not feel sincere sympathy for her.

"I support my own fiancé..." I answered without much conviction "I believe in him... I have nothing against Vilfredo-san."

"But he wants no marry anymore...!" She cried "Says too busy... But I love he..."

"Apollonia... I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

I was four years younger than her, but I seemed more mature than her, at this moment. Softly, I patted her head, in a clumsy attempt to comfort her, but it was to no use. She kept weeping in my arms, calling for her lost love. Somehow, I felt guilty that the situation had such an outcome, but Vilfredo would die anyway... It would be better for her to forget him.

"Do you want to have a cup of tea together?" I offered "It'll make you feel better..."

"Mmh..."

I prayed that Gustavo would commit his deed quietly and without a trace.

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[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°2 [... there's only one that I want....]

Hello everyone! This is the second chapter of Guardian Angel! I'm pretty bad in English, so I helped myself from DeepL for the translation. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Dreamtale belongs to @jokublog , Error belongs to @loverofpiggies , Ink belongs to @myebi and Killer belongs to @rahafwabas ! Enjoy your reading!

Previous Chapter

===

The first days, Ink had great difficulty to apply Nyx's advice. The habit was that he would unconsciously seek out the destroyer's magic in order to locate him and join him, but he struggled with all his strength to stay in his place and not to crack. But damn it, to feel the powerful magic of his opposite, to feel it move and throb, was a terribly desirable torture. It was as if the Destroyer was taunting him, using his powers on purpose to attract the painter, and this only made the task more difficult.

Ink would then go to Dream or Blue's house to take his mind off things, to chat, to cook, to share light and funny moments. It worked for an hour or two, but soon Ink's mind was caught up in the desire, the desire to see his soul mate, to start their characteristic fights and maybe end up embracing each other tenderly.

But in those moments Ink would shake his head and take a deep breath. As Nyx had said, not by being stubborn with his misplaced attitude was he going to get anywhere! He had to show the Destroyer that he was independent and in control of his emotions!

Then after a week without seeing his opposite - a terribly long time for the painter - Ink finally found himself face to face with him: Error had attacked an AU and was about to destroy it, but had ceased his activity as soon as the Creator arrived. They had looked into each other's eyes for a long time, silent, as if they were waiting for a reaction from the other ...

And Ink had attacked. Without a word, without deigning to enter into their usual verbal joust, he had fought Error to exhaustion, only to disappear quickly in a portal the next instant under the surprised gaze of the Destroyer.

“What shall I doooooo ?” Ink sobbed after appearing in Nyx's room, collapsing on his bed where he had rolled into a ball, a cushion in his arms.

The black-boned skeleton patted him gently on the shoulder as he finished his packet of chips, listening patiently to him complain:

“He doesn't care if I don't know, it suits him just fine! Maybe he loves someone else and I was in the way of seducing him from the beginning... I'm the worst ... !

- But no, but no. Don't worry Ink, I know it's hard but hold on. We'll move on to stage two soon, ok?”

He handed him a crisp, which the painter gladly accepted, stuffing it in his mouth as he sniffed it, wiping his tear-fogged eyes. Nyx slid his hand over his skull and caressed him gently, in an almost paternal gesture that soon reassured him. Finally he finally dozed off, far too comfortable in the bed that was not his, smelling the smell of Nyx, which had become impregnated in the sheets and which, it must be said, was not unpleasant.

*** ***

Error grunted, blasted a tree in his path. Fuckin' fuckin' .... A WEEK! A fucking week Ink ran away from him like the plague for no good reason! A fucking week that he didn't come to see him anymore, that he didn't even talk to him anymore, that he didn't even talk to him anymore!

Seriously, what was that last fight? Their fights were exciting because, in addition to inflicting resistance on each other, they shared animated verbal jousts that Error could only have with the painter! And there, at their last fight, Ink didn't say a word?

WHAT THE HELL...

His sons exploded a rock that was passing by.

Seriously... Error suddenly realized his thoughts, stopped dead in amazement:

“... Ah ... Ahah... What am I thinking? It almost looks like I'm worried. But no, no, I don't care, at least I have peace, I finally have peace! Ahahah!”

He banged his skull against a trunk. Damn it. Damn it.

Next time he saw the artist, he'd smash it.

*** ***

Nightmare tapped frantically on his desk, anxious and perplexed. It had been a few days since Nyx had given him some 'advice' but he still hadn't managed to put it into practice. Or rather, the few times he had tried had ended in disaster. The few times his arm had 'accidentally' brushed against Killer's arm, his subordinate had frozen for fear of being hit, upsetting the nightmare master to the core ... and forcing him to question himself completely.

He was impulsive, he was aware of it. He could be terribly violent and, unfortunately, it was often his henchmen who paid the price, even Killer. They were used to it and Nightmare had never cared about that before, but now... Now it pissed him off, it pissed him off to know that even the person he... he 'liked' was afraid of him.

“Fucking...”

He growled. Basically, it wasn't just Killer he had to calm down with, but all his subordinates. He didn't say it enough and would probably never admit it, but the bad guys had somehow become his new family.

He huffed and puffed, left his chair and walked out of the room into the kitchen... where he almost choked:

“ NYX ?!”

Indeed the black-boned skeleton was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, drinking a carton of milk as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He took the time to finish his sip before putting the empty bottle back on the table and then gently wiping his mouth with a towel. Nightmare was perplexed: he had already noted that, although Nyx seemed ill-mannered, he nevertheless possessed gestures close to the aristocracy, which only added one more mystery to this unwanted guest.

“Good morning, Nightmare.

- There's no such thing as 'good morning'! Get out of here before someone sees you!

- But you've already seen me.

- You know exactly what I mean!”

Footsteps made him shut up and turn around. Someone was coming this way! Nightmare simply couldn't let anyone know that he would be harboring a manipulative complete stranger who was giving him 'advice' in flirting! So he turned back to Nyx, ready to give him his orders:

“Hide...”

But Nyx was already gone. And yet Nightmare hadn't heard the slightest sound of teleportation. One more strange thing about his guest...

“Talking to yourself, boss?” Killer suddenly asked as he entered the room, glaring at his superior.

The master of the house used violence to maintain his self-control. Why, of all those present in the castle, was it his lover who was coming here at that very moment? He mentally insulted his damn karma and gave Killer a black look:

“No, I'm thinking out loud. Aren't you supposed to be on a mission?”

His henchman swallows:

“Um... Yeah, but I'm done. I just came by for a snack before... well...”

Nightmare frowned, suddenly quite suspicious. When Killer hesitated like this, it was because he was trying to hide something. And the keeper of negativity hated being kept from him.

“Before what?” he scolded as he approached.

Killer stepped back towards the counter, understanding his blunder and trying miserably to find a suitable lie. But few could fool Nightmare.

“Before... ...before I went out...”

He knocked on the drawers, hiccuping with fear, and his apprehension made him want to cower, to hide underground.

The atmosphere became a little colder ... and Nightmare suddenly pressed him against the worktop, making him squeal in pain.

"Before you go out with who?! "said the master, knowing the answer.

Killer clenched his teeth, looked away trembling. He simply couldn't hold his lover's gaze when he was in such anger.

- You're scaring him –

Nightmare tensed up, as much because of this observation as because of the surprise of hearing a voice in his skull. A voice that was all too familiar to him, probably because he had heard it in person not even a few minutes ago. Nyx's voice.

Damn, because that asshole was telepathic, too?

- Killer wants to run away from you. He doesn't understand you. He doesn't understand why you're picking on him like this. He thinks you only want to keep him so you don't lose face, to show that you're still the master. He doesn't see that you're afraid of losing him –

Nightmare froze, his eyes still fixed on Killer. Killer who had closed his eyes, visibly waiting to be violated as always.

- When you have sex, he probably enjoys the pain. But being masochistic in bed doesn't mean you're masochistic in everyday life. Have you ever thought of being gentle with him, of giving him loving moments even if it means taking it out on you? –

Yes. He had considered it. But he couldn't, he was... he was afraid? Yes. He was terrified. Terrified of opening himself up to his lover, of letting his feelings show, of letting his soul show... only to be stabbed, betrayed in the vilest of ways.

He was afraid Killer would turn on him.

“... Ni... Nightmare ... ?”

He blinked, confused, to meet Killer's gaze. Killer was worried, not understanding why his superior wasn't moving, why he seemed so... sad?

"I, uh... is everything okay? You're really weird right now..."

He dared to say that despite their position, despite the fact that he was at the mercy of his lover, that he could potentially be used as an punching ball for him ... Because even though he doubted Nightmare, Killer was still madly in love with him.

And that made the landlord shudder.

“... Killer...”

The guardian, with a knotted throat, couldn't control himself. All his rage had given way to guilt and sadness and, without the slightest thought, he came to embrace his lover, burying his face in his neck:

“... Don't leave me ... I beg you ...”

Killer didn't hide his amazement, his soul racing away without him noticing, as much because of this request as because of this unexpected hug. He hesitated, wondering if it was another trick of the nightmare master... except that even for a plan, Nightmare would never beg. He would never stop to that, unless it was truly sincere.

Killer was overcome by emotion. He responded to the embrace with tears in his eyes:

“I would never... I'll never leave you, I promise you...”

So they stood against each other, savouring this sweet and strange moment, without noticing the darkness in a corner of the room, darkness where a shadow of a tender smile was hiding. That same shadow came to move, to slip into the shadows of other objects in silence, and finally, when she came out of the kitchen, she took on the appearance of a young skeleton with black bones.

Nyx teleported into his room without fear that anyone would hear him. He immediately slumped down on the desk chair and took out his notebook, rather proud of himself:

"Good progress between Nightmare and Killer, although there's still some work to be done. Keep watching them but focus on Ink. Maybe pay Error a visit?"

As he was finishing his notes, he tensed abruptly, letting go of his things which hit the floor. He grabbed his coat, where his soul was. His soul pulsating strongly, far too strongly in his chest, which gave him a stabbing pain. He grimaced, clenched his teeth so as not to shout, not to alert anyone, and rushed to his bag.

He searched nervously inside, trying to stay in control of his breathing became erratic, his body was suddenly convulsing. His phalanges suddenly brushed against something smooth, familiar. He grabbed it and pulled it out of the bag.

An apple. A beautiful apple, completely black.

He immediately took a bite out of it. The abnormal acidity of the fruit didn't shock him, he had got used to it by now. He had become accustomed to the fact that every bite left a pungent taste on his palate, an icy sensation in his throat. He had gotten used to feeling, just for a second, a lot of unpleasant feelings. Anger, distress, sadness... A mob of feeling that ran through him all the way, that assaulted him like a violent bite on every bone before reaching his soul ... and everything returned to normal. Completely normal.

He sighed a long sigh, the suffering having completely disappeared. His gaze wandered through the bag and he noted, with a hint of bitterness:

“I don't have much left... “

*** ***

The field of echoing flowers radiated in an unusual way, emitting warm colours such as red or yellow, giving the impression of a field of small sunsets. It even radiated warmth, a very gentle warmth that made Ink shudder and pushed him to come closer, to reach out his hand and caress one of the petals with his fingertips.

“Tch, Dream has no imagination.” he suddenly heard.

He turned around, barely astonished by the presence of the stranger despite his sigh:

“Hey, Night, didn't they teach you not to intrude on other people's dreams?

- Shut up, I'm working.”

The painter raised his eyes to the sky without really worrying. He knew that Nightmare wouldn't give him the slightest nightmare, otherwise he wouldn't have shown himself to him.

He returned to contemplating the field, which was far too beautiful to be real. It made him duller if compared to the blue field of Outertale, the field overlooked by the night sky that Ink enjoyed watching so much.

"I'd like to think in peace ... he finally blew at the goalkeeper's address.

- I need to talk to you.”

The creator raised an arcade and turned towards him. Nightmare growled:

“This is the only place where we won't be disturbed.

- Disturbed by whom? Nyx?

- Who else? I don't trust this guy.”

Ink tilted his head to the side:

“Why? Doesn't it work with Killer?”

The master of nightmares got worse and worse, with a fleeting look in his eyes:

“Yes, but ... it doesn't matter, that's not the point!”

Night took on a more serious look:

“You noticed it too, didn't you? He comes out of nowhere but seems to know everything about us. Even you, the Creator, know nothing about him. Isn't that strange?

- I also wonder... But the balance of the multiverse doesn't seem to be affected. Then I'm not worried. Besides... I don't know. I feel good with him.

- Ah, you're gonna give up Error for him?”

Ink swelled his cheeks:

“Nonsense! With Error it's different!”

His eyes grew sadder:

"With Error ... there is this bond. This invisible link. I... I want to be there for him. Protect him, show him he's not alone. I want to be able to give him a smile, to be with him... I want to see him happy, and I want to be the only one who can make him happy.”

He had a bitter laugh:

"It's selfish, isn't it?

- Yeah. Terribly selfish.”

Nightmare looked down:

"...but I feel the same.”

New silence ... before the guardian of negativity regains some spirit, a mischievous smile appearing on his face:

“Hey, maybe we can try something with Error.”

Ink looked at him in perplexity:

“What do you mean?

- In itself, we don't know how he feels about you. But I can tell you that he has been giving off a strong anger since you ignore him.

- Wha... is that true? Why didn't you say so?!”

Nightmare simply sneered before resuming:

“Look, I'll give you a test: let's fight. If he comes to save you, we'll know that he cares about you!

- ... And if he doesn't?

- I'll kill you and then I'll take care of Dream.”

The creator is outraged:

“Fucking Nightmare! I was starting to think you were cool!

- Ahah, what did you think? I'm still the master of nightmares, poor naive painter!”

***

Ink sighed exasperated, his comrade always had to ruin such a moment! This annoyed him and he decided to slump between the flowers, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to bear the sight of the other skeleton anymore. Nightmare looked up to the sky at his reaction and came to join him, collapsing beside him before looking up at the dreamy sky. He wasn't used to enjoying a dream, it felt... strange but pleasant.

“... I searched for Nyx's spirit. Just to give him a nightmare, Nightmare suddenly confessed. But ... I found nothing. Since he's been in my house, I have the feeling that this guy isn't sleeping.”

He hated it. Gaining access to someone's subconscious was important to Nightmare, it reassured him because he knew he had a minimum of control over every living thing. A means of pressure to keep control of events. But Nyx was everything he hated: elusive and mysterious.

“I can't feel his emotions either.”

He ended up taking a look at Ink, who was now paying close attention to him.

“...as if he had no soul.” finished Nightmare.

The creator froze.

The subject of the soul was most sensitive to him. He still didn't have one, but his vials had begun to have side effects on his body, allowing him to feel emotions without having to consume them all the time. And falling in love with Error had only further destabilized these strange effects: it was as if, slowly, a soul was beginning to be created in the Creator, although he wasn't sure and didn't dare to get his hopes up.

Ink looked up at the sky, uncomfortable and perplexed. He breathed softly:

“... If Nyx turns out to be dangerous, I will take care of it. But for now ... I would like to trust him.”

Nightmare growled but said nothing else.

There was nothing more to say.

===

Next Chapter

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[spineofdeathwing]

A Post I should Have Made A Long Time Ago

Hello Spine and anyone who may be reading this at the moment. My name is Jerry, but most people know me as Gallowsfall. I am also well known - regrettably - for who I used to be: Burzgrim Blacksnarl/Gulghash back when I was associated with a group of habitual trolls/nazi shitlords in two guilds ran by the ringleader, Grom/Obombration/Scorching/Mooncakes/whatever he goes by now - and YES we are two completely different people. These guilds were called <Demagogue> and <Clergy of the Great One>, they were a small group of nationalists/fascists/trolls that enjoyed causing great amounts of harm and turmoil in the WoW RP community. I fully accept and HATE who I was at this time and all the fucking AWFUL things I did to so many people that I’ll never really remember or be able to properly apologize to or make it right again. Some of you I have met, we have reconciled and moved on. Some of you that I have met did not find comfort or reconciliation in confronting me or hearing my apologies - often because of the fact I can’t remember anything from those times beyond vague outlines of things I did but never to WHO and I’m sincerely sorry I cannot remember you to properly personalize a heartfelt apology to you beyond what I will say in this most likely very long post. I am sorry, from the deepest reaches of my heart, I am so fucking sorry. I now know the fullest extent of the horrible grief and fear I cultivated in all of you during those two to two and a half years I was lost and letting shitty people shepherd me down the entirely wrong path. I AM NOT TRYING TO EXCUSE MY BEHAVIOR OR SAY I DID NOTHING WRONG. I fucked up on a level no one should ever, EVER go to and every day since I’ve truly found myself I have HATED myself for it, I have PUNISHED myself for it. I have fucking WEPT in frustration and shame on a regular basis for having taken so long to figure out what I was doing to people and what I was doing to MYSELF. If I could go back and change everything and never have become that person, never had let that horrible fucking person manipulate me into thinking he and his cronies actually gave a shit about me - I would in an instant. I would give anything, even my own LIFE to try and take all of that hurt that I sowed into the world back… but I can’t. No one can. I can do everything in my power to try and put positivity and good vibes out into the world to try and make up for what I’ve done, but it doesn’t change and it doesn’t excuse and it doesn’t remove what I’ve done. I never expected it to, I have never expected to just magically be accepted by the entire community with open arms. The only thing I ever asked for was just a CHANCE. I wanted a chance to just let me be a part of the community again and prove I’d changed and to never stop trying to improve myself and help the community I once actively destroyed. But that was inherently wrong of me to want/think as well - not everyone is comfortable or willing to give me that chance and that is FINE, I accept that. My mother always told me, “Not everyone is going to like you, and that’s okay.” You have a right to feel angry, and I am sorry that I was the one who put that seed of anger, of hate into your heart from my abuse. I am sorry, I can never properly put into writing how sorry I truly am - but I hope this can at least give some kind of inkling of how sorry I truly am. But that’s not all I have to say here, and some of you will probably roll your eyes at what’s to come and sneer… but it needs to be said, and not just for me but anyone who’s been in my shoes and HAS GENUINELY MADE AN EFFORT TO BE A BETTER PERSON. If they have just made a half-assed apology post on twitter or here on spine, then continued the very next second to spew bullshit and hurt people - don’t you DARE try to have the audacity to compare them (or yourself if you the reader are one of these kinds of people) to me or others like me who are desperately trying to atone for the sins they’ve committed against their fellow human beings - not even just as roleplayers - to move past the oppressive shadows of their past. It can never go away, of course - it’ll always nip at my heels now and then... but I’d rather it be that than a darkened storm hanging over my head 24/7 until the day I die. It’s why I’m also here to make this statement that will no doubt incite more rage at me, but you know what? I’ll gladly take that abuse because I will stand up for others when others are too afraid to do so for fear of witch-hunts. It is absolutely toxic and abusive behavior to single out people anywhere and everywhere they go refusing to let them live down things they don’t do anymore - if they’re still doing bad things then only bring up those things that they are STILL DOING. It is absolutely toxic and abusive behavior to punish FREELANCE ARTISTS who are just trying to make ends meet for taking commissions from people who are “problematic”. If you do this kind of thing, YOU are in fact a piece of shit, and are effectively punishing an innocent person - taking away their LIVELIHOOD/INCOME in order to push your own subjectivity. This is absolutely unacceptable, and everyone should unanimously agree with this, no matter if it’s me saying it or some random person who isn’t taboo! I have lost friends, I have lost access to fantastic artists I LOVED to support with what little money I can come by due to this abhorrent practice and I gotta say it’s extremely fucking disgusting - especially when you consider that this behavior comes from people who CLAIM to support each other and support the working class/freelancers. Congratulations what you did is called censorship, and that’s a tool of the communist and nazi parties! THE MORE YOU KNOW~* Another thing I want to address is the very real fact that there ARE groups of very popular RPers/Artists who seem to be the unspoken kingpins of this community and if they decide one day that you’re no longer useful to them/become a liability for them to associate with - they will offer you up as the latest scapegoat for them to rile up the masses and send them after you with torches and pitchforks… ESPECIALLY if you so much as DARE to call THEM out for their own shitty behavior or business practices. Anyway, as no doubt many of our parents or parental figures have instructed us throughout our lives: “TWO WRONGS DO NOT MAKE A RIGHT.” “IF YOU HAVE NOTHING NICE TO SAY, DON’T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL.” “ANYONE WHO WILL GOSSIP TO YOU, WILL GOSSIP ABOUT YOU.” I am not trying to say “Oh, I am holier than thou! Truly I am but a poor victim!” No, I am just as guilty as anyone reading this of doing these things but every day I try to consciously remind myself more and more not to do them, that THEY DON'T HELP ANYONE - THEY MERELY CAUSE MORE PROBLEMS AND MORE PAIN. In conclusion, I would like to make it abundantly clear that I am completely and utterly, emphatically, sorry for anything I have ever done to hurt anyone - whether intentionally or unintentionally due to my own traumas and mental disabilities. I don’t WANT to hurt people anymore, any time I learn I am hurting someone I immediately want to do nothing but hurt myself and hate myself. But I’m not looking for pity, I’m looking for some reconciliation and the right to be apart of this community even if it’s just so much as being able to play the game and not have people whisper hurtful shit to me or post inciteful and extremely upsetting things about me on anonymous pages or even right out in the open. 

I AM NOT A NAZI. I AM NOT A RACIST. I AM NOT A HOMOPHOBE. I AM NOT A TRANSPHOBE. I AM NOT A BIGOT OF ANY KIND.

I am just one broken and maladjusted man trying to make things right and move on with his life - to try and heal, but I can’t do that with people lying about me or just constantly bringing up my past to me and everyone around me, this is only re-traumatizing me and anyone else that past involves. You’re not helping anything or anyone, you’re just making more problems and hurting more people and the cycle begins again. I shouldn't have to say this, some probably won't care or believe it but: While I was with those groups, I was constantly called a "Sp*rg" or "R****ded" I was ridiculed and bullied for liking anime or furry shit. These people ruthlessly bullied me and tore me down and apart everyday to maintain their influence over me. Some of you might say, "Why did you even stick around, why didn't you leave?" I was trapped, by own fear of being alone and my great flaw of needing/desiring validation from someone anyone - even if it was these shitty fucking people. Anyway, thank you for your time if you have bothered to even read this entire thing, I know some won't and that's okay. To those who do, whatever your opinion may be of me afterwards is completely and totally valid and fair - whether it be negative, positive, or indifferent.

-Gallows

[hiriajuu-suffering]

People Suck

If there’s anything I’ve learned so far is never put your faith or happiness in someone else, no matter how or what that looks like.

Never put your faith in your spouse. They’re fallible and human, they commit to you because you’re convenient, not because they value you for what you are. Every single person can destroy what they claim to love most in the world when they have to respond to enough pressure. I have seen instances where two people would willingly give everything for each other, but no one would ever think I’m worth that kind of commitment. Marriage in our society has been a hollow vow historically entrenched in us by institutionalized religion, now that a human’s ability to communicate reaches beyond moral conveniences in the digital age, people are seeing past that narrative. For better or for worse, I did that. Through sickness and health, I did that. For rich or poor, I did that. To love and cherish, I never stopped doing that. With the instructions set forth by the Sunnah, I did that when she never knew what that meant. In honesty and sincerity, I could never break on that front. I guess that’s why I started thinking polyamory had more truth in it, it’s been difficult for me to believe anyone can earnestly swear to unyielding loyalty, regardless of love’s condition, since I became an adult and I let myself believe otherwise these past years.

Never put faith in your parent or child. Both a parent and child’s understanding of the world are limited to their times. When they clash, it creates immovable conflicts which ripple beyond the scope of the family. A parent putting everything on their child to fulfill their desires imparts all their prior prejudices and hardships onto their child, and the child’s free will is destroyed in that monocle of unhealthy parenting. A child valuing their relationship with their parent stifles them from developing genuine relationships that make better on the limited perspective of their parents; I’ve suffered on both, on the inside and outside of that dynamic. A parent ought to love unconditionally as a child is forced to, yet, when the parent is pushed hard enough, you’ll find that’s never the case. A child ought to be able to follow their free will without pressure, but that’s never made to be the case. I can’t even fathom coming to the conclusion my entire life was forged by my parents with all the opposition I’ve given them, but when I look plainly at the facts, the resistance I’ve given to their absolute vision has been minimal at best. Even though I believe I’ve resisted far greater than a vast majority of people ever could, I know it’s still insignificant.

Never put faith in a holy person. Every purveyor of the divine will be operating under a label which exclusivizes them against contrasting labels. Interreligious convocation is just invalid to them. Frankly, the religious label I was born with I only still use because of societal pressure because I saw this a long time ago. As much as I believe the Aga Khan is wise and has a deeper understanding of life than an insurmountable majority of humans in history could ever have, that undermines as opposed to uplifts his level of respect to those outside of his followers. Instead, some random sheikh who commits visibly greater sin than the Aga Khan has more legitimacy to the greater Ummah (Muslim Community). If these labels are means by which prejudice is enacted, these labels cannot be means for good. Truly, I am Muslim first and Ismaili second but the label holds anyone on the outside back from seeing that.

I can’t love my spouse at maximum because both of us run the risk of losing loyalty, I can’t put everything into my kids lest I unintentionally override their free will from the pressure, I can’t put all my faith into the spirit because this world channels its practice through labels that cause division more than pluralism. Humans can’t be genuinely and unconditionally kind when inconvenienced, never expect anything real out of an imperfect being.

If living for anyone else’s sake is a fallacy, does that mean life itself is selfish? Seeking happiness in a relationship with another, that’s selfish. Making your kids actions be the determiner of your own happiness, that’s selfish. Believing the label you use to describe your beliefs is more correct than anyone else’s, that’s selfish. The claim every person was put on this world to be tested to do a good is wrong if we’re required to be selfish enough to make all of our decisions based on temporal desires, familial pressures, and religious alignment.

The real test in life is a violation of those interests to do good. It requires far more virtue to act outside the realm of what’s convenient to you, what your family wants you to be, and what your religion forces upon you. That’s why I hate doing any of those things even when I’m still doing them because I’m often not given the option to act outside of them. I always found myself to be a metaphysical compatibilist for this reason, an illusion of free will exists which we can act in accordance with but are never presented with the option to.

Knowing this, I can’t believe in any person. Nor can I rightfully: marry, have children, or ascribe to a religion without a serious violation of conveniences. I’ve fought for that belief all my life, I fought hard. I’ve invested when I ever saw someone or something which could’ve agreed with my position in convenience being a restriction on free will. The potential I acted on always failed: making it in the music industry, speech/debate, my relationships. “I thought maybe I had it this time, but it slipped away”. While it’s still a remote possibility for that potential to return, everything has to be put into doubt when it’s not because that’s the default state of the world.

I want to believe in the idealism allowing me to access my free will, that’s why I’m not an incompatibilist. The people in this world are soul-crushing. There’s some person that will always find a way from enacting your own free will: a lover, a parent, a cleric. I want to believe in that dream, but the more I try, the more it fades, and the more it feels like I lost.

Do I break from this? Do I finally give in and be what I sought not to be, a human whose needs are granted in convenience? I don’t want to, but what’s left of my heart may not leave me a choice: it takes resolve to fight and I can’t even tell how much I have left in me with the last piece of potential I believed in still hanging in the balance. I’m willing to do everything to prove to her she is that because I put so much of myself into that belief. Everything I truly am is what breaks those boundaries: convincing her it’s worth the struggle, convincing her mother our souls are equal and reach the same place in acts of faith, convincing the world telling two can’t become one for something affected by anything other than their free will is wrong. If I’m incapable of breaking those boundaries, I don’t know what my free will is anymore. It’s something I feel but could never act on.

Maybe she wasn’t who I thought she was. Maybe she didn’t think marriage outweighs every other decision you can make in your life combined on account of its affect on the soul. Maybe she was just a puppet of her mother and her culture cloaked by a need to be superficially happy. Maybe she couldn’t be happier long-term with someone who pushes her to think to be her best self instead of someone who falls in line with her expectations of convenience. Maybe I was wrong in seeing her potential, but that doesn’t make being disappointed hurt any less because it’s so draining to undo a belief so strong.

I still believe in the person I knew, someone who wanted to get as much of her free will out in the open as possible and chose me as a part of that. I don’t know if that person is gone for good. If she is, I think my idealism has to leave with her and I must live in a life I hadn’t believed in up until this point. A life where no mortal deserves absolute trust. A life where the only things to live for are what’s made convenient to you. In which case, I renounce my ability to believe in free will. I’ll want my offspring to have it, but I’ll unintentionally find a way to oppress it out of them like every parent does. It’s because I have no control. I surrendered to her all of it in faith she would still be the person I knew. If that person was never real, I don’t know what I have left to believe in because I find there’s no point in beliefs without free will.

Nothing in life is forever, but the bond of marriage is eternal. We’re not married yet, so she hasn’t committed herself to me hereafter yet either. The lack of convenience is outweighing what I am to her, that’s why we’re not moving forward. There’s nothing I can say to convince her anymore we’re worth the lack of convenience, the decision is in her hands now. I’ve felt powerless from a sense of belief too many times in my life, this is the time my beliefs will be shown their validity. I have to accept it’s my flaws that caused me to believe in her willingness to overcome convenience, making me as much of a slave to convenience as any other person.

Tl;dr: people suck. I’m a person, I’m no exception to the rule unless someone I chose completely of my own free will and she hath chosen me completely of her own free will shows me differently. I don’t think I’m going to have the resilience to choose like that again.

[sasorikigai]

A Manifesto to My Experiences in 2019. 

This year has been a ride; for I lost and gained a lot of things and I think, and I believe that I somewhat changed my perspectives in life. As an eternal student of life, I tend to believe that I know something when in fact, I know nothing, even myself, and that mystery, that unknown makes life great for I am able to challenge myself. So many questions and the answers provided by this year helped me to grow and certainly have guided me upon growing. Am I really going to do it? Are those worth pursuing? Does it make me great if I do this and that? These kinds of questions have fueled me to change and challenge a few significant things in my life and I will be eternally grateful for that. 

First, I would like to address the things I have lost; the first thing I have lost in 2019 was my faith. 2019 began, and I was doubting everything, from myself, to the completely different mindset I had when I transitioned to move back from Ohio (where I have been living with my brother) back to Florida (where my parents live) and got a new job. In that transition I had gone through numerous times before, I learned to accept my flaws, my mistakes, and turned that into something great, as I have grown mature, understanding and less emotional and impulsive. 

In that transition, I lost my faith towards God, my dignify, my passion to name a few, but I have gained so much as well. Upon moving back to FL and struggling with my creative outlets - certainly writing, but not limited to drawing, painting, collaging in my sketchbooks, bookmaking, etc. - I have worked extremely hard to gain those outlets back. The earlier part of the decade only brought depressive streaks akin to deadened winter wastelands, but through roleplaying, writing and reconnecting with my creativity, I truly believe I have found something that I could latch onto for the entirety of my life. 

___

The start of it all was my Tumblr blog’s transition from a multimuse blog to a dual-muse, Hanzo Hasashi and Kuai Liang, the Mortal Kombat poster boys whom I dearly love and treasure more than anyone else. And through the rebranding, I have met so many excellent people, including @heamatic​ / @desxderium​ / @akanenxmai​, @paindealt​, @pxlariis​, @sonxflight​ and so on. Being on Tumblr and writing as Hanzo and Kuai has been a profound part of my life and I could never trade it with anything else. It is cathartic and therapeutic for me, and I absolutely love the challenge of learning English, being able to manipulate and sculpt it, and befriending so many talented people who are so dedicated and enthusiastic not only of their muses, but have been showing consistent interest in my own as well, and I could not be more thankful and grateful for that. 

I would especially like to thank Jester, Wikia, Sofi and Dari for your continued interest, passion, enthusiasm and support. You know it would have never been possible for me to reconnect with Tumblr and loving roleplaying and writing again if it weren’t for your friendship. 

I would especially like to thank Jester for literally giving me the best relationships my muses have ever had on this platform, as even all the non-canonical ships we currently have are my ride-or-die otps because we have developed their relationship through numerous months - nine months and still going strong - and you literally have been there every fucking step of the way and my words have limitations as you have been nothing, but kind, compassionate, mature and truly understanding. I admire not only your writing skills and such excellent and phenomenal grasp of all of your muses, but as an artist, a fellow gramma and most importantly, one of my best friends ever. You literally have revived my dying passion and I fucking owe you so much for that. And regardless of our numerous verses, you have shown such fervor and passion and you definitely have challenge me not only to better my writing, but my storytelling and plotting skills. I keep thinking about ‘what if’ scenarios and I truly enjoy talking to you daily and connecting with you further. 

And others for being so open and receptive of my ideas, my opinions and supporting my analyzations and headcanons of my muses. It means so much that you appreciate my time and effort and I sincerely hope that our strong collaborative partnership continue throughout 2020 and beyond. I especially love it when I can literally perceive just how much love and dedication you have of your muses and it really makes me happy to see you all on my dash. Keep being awesome and keep providing such remarkable content on my dash. 

___

This manifesto serves not only as my reflection, but also my resolution. I am really not fond to admit to this, but I know that I am still improving, and is willing to improve, in order to attain the goals. 

First, I must know how to speak up and express my thoughts better, no matter how much I loathe it. I know how to listen to different perspectives and understand where they are coming from, but often, it’s my bullheaded stubbornness and past traumas preventing from changing that first initial inception as I often have tendencies to isolate and seclude myself, instead of talking things out. 

Second, I would like to be more open to my family, especially my father. I grew up loathing my dad for so many different reasons; foremost me not being a son, and how most Asian families are male-dominant and still, females are considered ‘inferior’ to males as I was differently raised and treated compared to my brother. I still have a rough time opening up to my father, while I am more than fine in the terms of my mother, whom I consider as my closest friend. I would at least like to give it a try, to open myself up more and be candor and honest in my communication. 

Third, I would definitely like to maintain healthy lifestyle by eating healthy and working towards completing another half-marathon with a solid plan in my mind. Since 2018, I have been running 5K and 10Ks and have been trying to lose weight. I may have been slacking off with eating healthy, but in 2020, I really want to shed some more pounds and regularly work out (which I struggle with work and being on Internet), but I am going to considerably cut time on Tumblr and remain exclusive with selective mutuals for the sake of quality and aesthetics - because I’m extra af - and concentrate on the threads I truly have passion, interest and muse for). 

And fourth, be more understanding, kind, sympathetic and mature person. To make scars into beaut, as I carry all the baggage from the past decade to learn and grow, so I can offer my family, friends, coworkers and students my insights and knowledge. I have accumulated a detrimental amount of guilt, sadness, contempt and hate towards the things I have endured - through bullying, attempted sexual assault, loss of numerous friendship, family members’ death and so on - and I would really like to work on them. 

I know this is really long, and has literally has nothing to do with being a RP blog, but it needed to be said on this last day of the year and the last day of the DECADE. This decade hadn’t been a kind one for me, but I truthfully believe that if I work on those four profound things that have been gnawing in my mind, then I would become a much better and sophisticated person in general. Thank you very much for reading, and thank you so much for my mutuals for following me and appreciating the content I provide every day. 

And most importantly, I hope you to wrap up this year and decade well, and HAPPY BELATED NEW YEAR. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #239

i just want to sincerely apologize if my surveys take a negative nosedive again. i know this one’s kinda grim and i don’t want to make that a routine, but things are just rough right now and i’m not gonna lie on a survey, y’know.

Do you know anyone who works at McDonald’s? Not that I'm aware of. Do you know anyone who plays heaps of sports? Probably through school. Have you ever been suspended from school? No. Where do your cousins live? Aaaaaaall over the U.S. Have you met any of your second cousins? Possibly at some point? Do you like the All-American Rejects? I like "Move Along" and "It Ends Tonight" is good, but that's all off the top of my head. Oh wait, of course there's "Gives You Hell." When was the last time you wore a skirt? WOW I have ZERO clue. Probably not since elementary years. Have you ever finished a whole video game? Plenty. If so, which one(s)? There are way too many. Do you know anyone with a pet snake? Me, Sara, probably others. Which one of your friends has great music taste? Sara. Was the last person you hung out with single? That would be my young niece and nephew... so yeah. Have you ever attended a private school? I'm a private college now. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No, thank Christ. Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? I made breakfast for Sara once. If your phone has a hole for phone charms, is it on the left or right side? I don't have one. Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? Kinda like... suburban mixed with rural. I don't wanna be totally isolated, particularly away from necessary stores and such, but I also do NOT wanna be swarmed by people. Maybe like a loose neighborhood in the woods outside a small town? Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Sara. Did you use a pencil today? No. Are you adopted? Nope. Have you ever had your car break down on you? Never when I've driven, not that that's been much. With Mom, yes. Dad, idr. Jason's prom night, yeah; his truck broke down otw home at a stop light. Oof. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? My mom. It's the worst. When was the last time you ate at your favorite restaurant? Oh wow, probably not since my last birthday. What was the last thing someone gave you? A close family friend/my former teacher lent me a $20 just in case I needed anything while my mom was up in NY. Can you write your name in a foreign language? My first name (at least) is the same in German; even though "y" doesn't exist in the language, I guess it does for foreign names?? Idk about my last name. Who is the person you often go to for venting? Sara. Do you keep an actual journal or diary? No, not anymore. I did briefly when I had that WILD and totally random Jason obsession episode, but once I came off that godawful medicine and I went back to normal, I deleted it. Have you ever been prescribed Vicodin? That sounds very familiar... Maybe? Perhaps that's what was prescribed after my surgery? Have you ever cheated on someone without them finding out about it? Well considering I've never cheated and never would, I can't answer this. Was the last person you kissed male or female? Female. Who were you with the last time you went swimming? Colleen, at the beach. Does your dining table currently have place mats on it? No; we don't even eat at it. What was the last thing you cooked in an oven? I myself have literally never used an oven. I'm scared to. Oh wait, yeah I have... on some occasions where Mom needed me to put something in there or take something out, but idr what. But boy and I can tell you without memory that I was jumpy as hell about it. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? No. It's difficult for me to like-like people, especially men when you consider I'm generally afraid of them, on top of I'm just paranoid and don't trust easily. Do you prefer wheat or white bread? Wheat. Do you have an electric toothbrush? No, but coincidentally, I actually have that on my Christmas wishlist. Have you ever had an “exotic” or “abnormal” pet? Do you consider a Chinese water dragon "exotic?" Then I have a ball python morph. Have you ever eaten lobster? No, and considering crab is nauseating, I doubt lobster would be too different. What is your grade point average (if you’re still in school)? I don't know right now and don't know where to find it. Have you ever played croquet? Oh yeah. My sisters and I LOVED that shit as kids. Who was the last person you called? Dad. Have you ever watched Ghostbusters? No, believe it or not. When was the last time you drew a picture? Yikes... been a while. Not since I started a concept drawing of encompassing a panic attack in a meerkat form, as I tend to do. I haven't touched it in months. It's right on the second shelf of the table beside me, so... my only remaining excuse as to not finish it is that the paper is horribly wrinkled now. Are you happy? Not exactly. Should you be doing something now? I could be doing the practice exam work my math professor gave us all considering it's extra credit, but. Yeah. I'm absolutely awful at math and barely passing but I don't exactly need another stressor right now. Is there a smoke detector on every floor of your house? We only have one floor. What was the last kind of soup you ate? I tried vegetable soup anyway when I got my tongue pierced because I literally could not eat solids for over a week, but I'm a picky asshole who didn't like it so wasted the can. I had to survive almost exclusively on meal replacement shakes and popsicles. Warning from the wise: you want your tongue pierced? You better fucking want it bad because healing is a P R O C E S S. Or at least mine was, having to get it re-done and all... Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? No. Have you ever went a year without getting your hair cut? I don't think a year... but maybe? Do you think you could go a week without sugar? Considering sugar is in like... EVERYTHING, probably no? Would you be willing to go one day each week without meat? I don't really pay attention, but I probably already do. I'd like to eat as little meat as possible. Hell, I wish I could go full-on vegan. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NO. Do you have any talents that your friends don’t know about? No. Are you any good at sewing? Never tried, not interested. Has anyone ever interviewed you about one of your hobbies/talents? No. Would you ever consider experimenting with drugs? Marijuana for medical purposes if I didn't have to smoke it. I'm not smoking anything, I don't care what it is. What’s been tugging on your heart lately? I guess life in general. Mortality, death. Teddy died in my arms, I saw my grandmother physically ravaged by cancer, and just life hasn't been the kindest lately. I've been thinking about how time just flies, how every moment should be cherished even though it's so fucking hard, and just yeah. I don't wanna go down this rabbit hole. Are you comfortable with who you are? Have you accepted who you are? I don't know dude I shouldn't be taking a survey during like an existential crisis lol. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Decided to get some really unhealthy fries with my dinner. Would you have sex with the last person you texted? It's not a matter of "would," I want to. I may have already, I don't really know what separates foreplay from lesbian sex. Do you consider weed, marijuana, pot, etc. a drug? This isn't even an argument anymore, it's fact. It's a mind-altering substance. "Drug" does not always equate to bad, either. Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? It'd be nice. Do you require a lot of private time? Oh yeah, but way less than I used to. I get depressed if I'm alone for too long now. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? N/A What is your favorite classic Disney movie? The Lion King. Do you like looking at old photographs? Yeah, usually. Do you enjoy puzzles? Yeah. Do you prefer painting or drawing? Drawing by a long shot. I'm taking a painting course this upcoming semester though, so hopefully that'll up my skill and thus enjoyment of it. Do you ever wear high heels? No, I don't have a reason to. Do you use belts? No, considering I never wear anything with belt loops. When was the last time you played Uno? Oh my fucking god, it's been forever, thankfully. When I lived with Colleen, as did her younger sister, we played Uno a lot, and then, AND THEN, came the night Chelsea dyed my hair red. Mind you, the ONLY TIME dyeing my hair had been truly successful and long-lasting. The process took hours, and we played Uno round after Uno round... and now I literally hate it. What do you like better, kiwis or pineapple? Oh man, I love both, but I gotta say kiwi. Are you trying to grow out your hair? No, I actually need to cute it again. What is your favorite perfume/body spray/cologne? Don't have one, really. Have you ever wanted to try karate? Not seriously. How often do you drink water? Ah yikes... I really fell out of my regular habit of drinking multiple bottles daily. Do you ever wear headbands? No. How many video games do you own? A lot. There's like a huge CD case in a living room drawer full of them. I've been considering making an EBay or something to sell a shitload of them as I'm sure a lot are actually pretty valuable now, but I think a lot about how I want to pass them down to my current and possibly future nieces and nephews when they get to a certain age to figure video games out or even have a console that can play PS1-PS3. Have you ever been to a casino? If so, which one(s)? No. What’s your favorite suburb in the city you live in? Why would you... name that on the Internet...? Besides that even, I pay no attention to suburbs' names I happen to pass. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. I don't know if I could ever muster up the courage to even go in one. I'm the type that would just order online. What’s your favorite place to get pizza? I'm a basic Domino's bitch. How many times have you been to the beach? Multiple, but not a LOT. I have little reason to ever go, and it's never my idea, that's for sure. Has there ever been a fire inside your house? Tell me the story. Childhood home. Trying the Jiffy Pop popcorn that you make over the stove. Next thing y'know the thing is seriously on fire and we had to use the fire extinguisher. Fuck you, Jiffy Pop, the harbinger of the next fucking idiots moving in setting the entire house on fire thanks to the stove too. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? No, besides like bees 'n the like being near me. Have you ever had a spray tan? No. Do you own any sports bras? Where’d you get them from? No, but I'd like at least one. Wouldn't know what to use it for, it's not like I go jogging or anything, but. I think it'd be good to have at least one. Have you ever had sex in a kitchen? No. What’s the most expensive restaurant you’ve ever eaten at? I have zero clu- no wait I'm gonna guess the Italian restaurant we went to on Sara's birthday, but that's just a guess judging by how it was fancy as fuck. Who crosses your mind the most? Sara. Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt? Probably as a kid. Ever been to an auction? No. would you ever get acupuncture? omg no Ever got stitches? At least twice. What is a must have on your french fries? At least some salt. Entirely saltless fries are boring. How do you like your meat cooked…medium rare? well done? Nothing less than medium well. If meat tastes even a little bit beneath lukewarm I can't take that shit. Are there two colors that you just simply despise? Bright yellow and puke-green. What do you usually do with recurring dreams? ... Nothing? What CAN you do? Have you ever been told you were hot by a complete stranger? I don't think someone has used the term "hot," but I know I've been called pretty, at least. Do you want to be single or with someone? I want to be with Sara. It kinda feels like we still are, like no feelings have changed, we're just not "official" anymore and not "bound" to one another. Have you ever had a sleepover with the opposite sex? I actually have twice (or thrice?) platonically with my younger neighbor FOREVER ago. We were still kids. Then there was a big (birthday?) party at my place where Juan stayed the night, and then I believe there was an occasion Girt totally knocked out on the couch so... I guess it turned into a "sleepover?" lmao Who are you closest to in your family? My mom. Who were the last 3 people to text you? Sara, Mom, and my sister. Have you ever dated someone in jail? No, and I wouldn't unless it was for something incredibly stupid or I'm aware was a false charge. What’s a movie you cannot BARE to ever watch again? Nothing's coming off the top of my head. Who got you hooked on the addiction you're addicted to (If you have one)? ... I just connected it all in my head. Jason got me into the Amnesia game. I got into custom stories for it. I was playing one one day. I got stuck. I YouTubed it for help. Guess. Who. I. Fuckin'. Found. This is a revelation; I have discovered the main purpose of my and Jason's relationship. Perhaps things do happen for a reason lmao. Are you a little bit cautious around horses? Do they scare you a bit? Not really, but I wouldn't say I'm in no way cautious. They definitely don't scare me, though. I just respect that they're very powerful animals and I'm not experienced with handling them. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yes, on rice that was literally right off the fucking stove lmao. LOOK I didn't know it had JUST come off and I was hungry as fuck but boy did I have REGRETS considering the burn lasted for well over a week, maybe two. Do you think having a sleepover with a guy is theoretically acceptable? Um, yes...????? Do you like to have cake on your birthday? Which kind of cake in mind? Yeah, and red velvet or chocolate frosted, depending on what I'm feeling.

[ninwrites]

just for the night

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Words: 4446

Summary:

the first time alec chooses to stay the night

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written as a belated birthday present for @maryatthecomiccon ❤

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Read on AO3 or below the cut xx

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There’s sauce dripping down his fingertips, trailing across the back of his hands and, more than likely, smeared across his mouth – and yet, Magnus already counts this as one of the best dates he’s ever been on. This assessment could have a fair amount to do with the person sitting across from him, in a snug booth at the back of a cozy, hole-in-the-wall burger joint in the East Village – in fact, Magnus would lay good money on Alec’s presence being the sole reason for his increasingly exultant mood.

The whole affair has been a pleasant surprise.

Alec had called him up earlier, sounding mixed parts cautious and hopeful, to ask if he’d be free for the night. (As it so turned out, he wasn’t, but it only took a quick fire message to clear up his evening and rearrange his ‘meeting’ with Raphael to another night.) Alec had set the time, and Magnus had arranged the place, remembering Alec’s offhanded comment after the fateful fatty tuna night in Tokyo; a simple, casual night out seemed the perfect sequential date, and truthfully, Magnus wanted something a little more intimate, a little more - them.

As of yet, it’s been the best decision he’s made all evening - the music is an inviting mix of jazz and pop, the food is perfectly greasy and simple without compromising on taste, and the atmosphere is alluring and warm - yet it is above all the company that has made the evening a delight.

“I kind of don’t want this night to end,” Alec admits, with slick fingertips wrapped in paper-thin napkins and a smile that’s only saucy in the condiment sense.

“Time is a fickle thing, for warlocks.” Magnus bends the straw of his soda, watching the crinkles form in the striped red-and-white plastic, toeing the line between honesty and reservation. “Yet I find myself inexplicably wishing for the same.”

Alec frowns, the corner of his mouth twisted down in thought. It’s an opening, though he doesn’t realise it, because dating is still a grand and confusing new landscape for him, and he’s too honest to lace his words with unspoken meanings - anything he says, he means, with the utmost sincerity.

Magnus isn’t above lying, let alone to Shadowhunters - and least of all for the purposes of survival - but there’s something about Alec, about his steadfast, if sometimes misaligned sense of morality that makes Magnus want to be honest, to tell Alec how he feels with only the slightest reservation that it might be overwhelming.  

“We could have nightcaps, at my loft.” Magnus suggests, scrunching the wrapper of the straw in his other hand, already anticipating Alec’s gentle refusal, a sympathetic but firm “I really should be getting back to the Institute” .

“I’d like that,” Alec replies, instead, another surprise, though one that Magnus probably should have expected, considering all the ways that Alec has surprised him before. His eyes are lit with an undefinable glint that Magnus would dare to call coy, if Alec were the type, although there is something undoubtedly flirtatious about the way he reaches across the table, his fingers tracing an idle pattern against the back of Magnus’ hand.

“Lead the way.”

There’s an effortless solace to Magnus’ loft that Alec has never quite felt anywhere else - he hasn’t spent a lot of time here, all things considered, and yet there’s a sense of comfort that settles over him as soon as he’s stepped out of the portal Magnus conjured, a warmth that seeps slowly into his bones, as though the loft is welcoming him in.

As though, inexplicably, it knows more than they do.

“Would you like a drink?” Magnus asks, waving his hand towards the drinks cart, almost forgetting that the other was still wrapped around Alec’s.

“Just water would be nice, please.” Alec can feel his cheeks growing pink. “I think I’ve hit my limit of drinks for the night.”

He’s not drunk - he’s only been drunk once, and he’d hated every second of it - but he’s teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and he doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want anything to influence this night, or his perception of it. It may just be a date, but it’s a date with Magnus, and there’s still a heady dose of novelty to it all that he hopes never wanes.

“There are many jokes here about Shadowhunters and lightweights,” Magnus squeezes Alec’s hand. “But I’ll refrain from making them this time.”

Alec laughs, a bubbling sound that comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “That’s very kind of you.”

Magnus, preens, his skin taking on a particularly bright glow . “I am but a simple man of honour.”

“That sounds like a little bit of an understatement,” Alec admits. “Simple has never been a word I’ve associated with you - not to say that is a bad thing! It’s not, of course, you’re amazing, I just meant-”

Magnus lifts their joined hands, brushing a kiss against the back of Alec’s hand. “I think I know what you mean, Alexander. Thank you.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth tugs up in a half-smile, the tips of his ears burning red. Magnus leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Alec’s bright cheek. “I’ll get the drinks - we can sit on the couch, if you’d like, or the balcony, it’s quite a lovely night.”

Alec glances to the couch, where he’d shared his energy with Magnus, where he’d first held him, where he’d spent the night sprawled along the cushions because Magnus had insisted that the Institute was too far and Alec hadn’t been able to find a good reason to counter otherwise.

“The couch is fine,” He says, which is to say, a lot of good things have happened there, and part of him is hoping more good things will follow.

Magnus just smiles, as though he knows something that Alec doesn’t, or perhaps is just amused at Alec’s attempts to play off his decision as something casual, and turns towards the drinks cart. He tinkers there for awhile, and Alec sinks into the couch, contemplating why it’s so peculiar to him that Magnus would make their drinks by hand - he’s not so naive as to believe that warlocks, or indeed Magnus himself, are so dependent on magic as to be wholly incompetent without the use of it.

Maybe it’s just a matter of curiosity - Alec can’t deny that if he had the power at his fingertips that Magnus does, he probably wouldn’t do a lot without it.

Magnus returns a moment later, a glass of ice water for Alec and a dry martini for himself. Alec takes his glass with a grateful smile, focusing on the condensation against his fingertips and not the bristling electricity that sparks where Magnus’ knee touches his own.

“Magnus,” Alec rests his glass against his leg. “Can I ask you a question?”

Magnus inclines his head, taking a delicate sip from his glass. “Of course.”

“This might be really dumb, but - why, don’t you use magic for everything? Isn’t it … easier?”

The ghost of a smile hovers as Magnus ruminates Alec’s question. He traces his pinky finger around the rim of his glass, letting errand sparks cascade around the edges. “In some ways, I suppose. I’ve always believed that hard work would get me further than my magic could, and I doubt I would have reached the potential that I have without a healthy balance of both.”

He makes eye contact with Alec, resting his shoulder against the back of the couch. “The day that Luke was brought in, writhing in agony on this very couch, I had to borrow your energy to help heal him. If I had squandered that energy on something as simple as stirring sugar into my coffee or making my bed, then I wouldn’t have been able to heal Luke as quickly. That isn’t to say that I don’t use my magic on terribly mundane things, but I try not to get into the habit of doing everything with magic.”

Alec hums. “I never thought about it that way before - I always thought, if I had magic, I’d just … use it for everything.”

“Most young warlocks think that way,” Magnus acknowledges. “However, after a few centuries it becomes a little unrealistic to maintain. Of course, everyone has their weaknesses - I have quite the unfortunate penchant for summoning things that I need, often without a second thought.”

Alec bumps his shoulder against Magnus’. “I can’t say that I blame you. And anybody who does is probably just jealous that they can’t do the same.”

“You have a very refreshing outlook on the world, Alexander.” Magnus raises his glass, and after a belated second, Alec lifts his own, a light clink echoing after they touch. “I only wish that more people considered things the way that you do.”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever been told that before,” Alec replies. It sounds like a compliment, judging by the warmth of Magnus’ tone and the way his gaze is lit up.

Magnus smiles, and it’s like everything around them just, stops. “The world seems truly magnificent through your eyes - I’m jaded, but you … you have so much hope.”

“I never really, used to.” Alec confesses, toying with the condensation of his glass.”Before, I met you. Now, though - I never thought I’d come out. But I did, thanks to your encouragement, and support, and it’s given me hope, because if I can do the impossible, if I can be an out and proud gay Shadowhunter … there isn’t really anything I can’t do.”

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, sounding both parts bittersweet and awestruck, before surging forward, managing to spell their drinks onto the table before drawing Alec into a deep kiss that sends sparks down Alec’s spine and makes his toes curl in his boots.

“You’re incredible,” Magnus gushes, pulling back only far enough for him to look Alec in the eye, his hands grasping either side of Alec’s face. “I don’t know if I’ve told you that, before, but you are.”

Alec wraps his hands around Magnus’ upper arms, fingers curled tight in the fabric of his silk shirt. “Ditto,” He breathes out - it’s not the word he wants to say, but the sentiment remains the same, and he finds it hard to regret anything when it makes Magnus giggle .

It’s a sound he’d do anything to hear again - to hear Magnus sounding so light and carefree and young.

He leans in, slowly, tracking the way Magnus’ gaze falls to his lips and then shoots back up, the way Magnus subconsciously licks his bottom lip even as his eyes bore into Alec’s, the way the air between them seems to crackle with potential even as the distance shortens, until Alec’s lips are folding gently against Magnus’, slow and attentive. He’s still learning, how to make a moment last what feels like forever, how to make Magnus’ eyes flutter shut, how to make him feel as wonderfully on-edge as he does Alec.

Alec might be new, to this, to relationships, to Magnus, but he’s always been told that he’s a quick learner, and he’s very invested in kissing Magnus until the rest of the world falls away, because nothing matters in a moment like that as much as the wonders of the man before him.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, as Alec tracks soft pecks along the length of his jaw, curious about the bristle of stubble along the underside and the shadow of cologne drifting across his neck. Magnus’ hands have fallen to Alec’s shoulders, wound around his neck like a lifeline, and his back arcs forward when Alec scrapes the barest hint of teeth beneath his ear, because it feels right, and he wants to.

There’s still a lot of exhilaration to be found from doing things purely because he wants to.

“If I didn’t,” Magnus exhales a low breath, which trickles against Alec’s cheek and into the outer shell of his ear. “If I didn’t know better, I’d presume that you’re - that you’re teasing, me.”

Alec grins, just slightly, dotting a kiss to the curve of Magnus’ cheek, just below his temple. “Why would I do that?”

Magnus parts his mouth to speak, but no words come out, replaced instead by a delicate gasp that sends a shiver down Alec’s spine, even as he focuses on the spread of his hand beneath Magnus’ shirt, against his lower abdomen, heat thrumming against the center of his palm. Magnus’ fingers dig into his shoulders, but it’s far from painful, and worth it still for the gleam in his eyes when his head ducks closer to Alec’s.

“Because you’re a menace,” He whispers against the corner of Alec’s mouth. Within the blink of a second, he’s pushed Alec back onto the couch, his hands curved against Alec’s shoulders, grin a mile wide and as mischievous as it is bright.

“Luckily,” He adds, with a wink that is far less cheesy than it should be. “So am I.”

Alec’s heart thuds against his ribs, so steady and fast that it wouldn’t be a surprise to learn that Magnus can feel it - he sucks in a deep breathe, letting it exhale slowly, his attention focused solely on Magnus, his skin prickling with anticipation. Only … it seems as though they’re at something of a stalemate; Alec can’t move, for all that Magnus has him pinned to the couch, but Magnus isn’t moving, his hips hovering inches above Alec’s with a remarkable and envious strength that Alec would, on another day, have a lot of appreciation for.

“Magnus?” Alec asks, reaching up slowly to hook his fingers through the loops of Magnus’ belt. “Is everything okay?”

Magnus nods, but it’s stilted, and there’s a faraway glimmer in his eyes that betrays any confidence. “It just occurred to me,” He explains, in a low murmur, almost as though he’s speaking aloud, instead of directly to Alec. “That I never quite asked you, what you wanted from this evening. I promised drinks, but this - this is far from that.”

“I like where the evening has transpired,” Alec admits, heat creeping up his neck. “I can’t say that I expected it, when I asked if you were free, but I’m not complaining.” His hands tighten against Magnus’ hips. “Far from it.

Magnus’ lips are pursed, but he seems receptive to Alec’s assurances. “I should have asked what you wanted,” He refutes. “You’re still so new to being able to have what you want…”

Alec shrugs, as well as he can with his shoulders pushed to the arm of the couch. His instinct is to reply ‘I want you,’ but it’s a little too forward for their third date, and he’s not quite there - yet. This, this between them now, this is good. “I want to spend time with you. This seems like a pretty fun way to do it.”

Magnus hums, his thumb stroking Alec’s collarbone thoughtfully. “It is pretty fun,”

Alec grins, sliding his hand up until it rests against the small of Magnus’ back, fingers pressed encouragingly to his spine. “I’m having a blast.” He comments, delighted to find even as he says it that it’s true, not an exaggeration but the whole, effortless truth.

Magnus must see it, the glow that’s residing in his chest or something deeper than that, because a sense of serenity settles in his expression, and then he’s slowly lowering his hips until they’re parallel to Alec’s, until the buckle of his belt is pressing into his stomach, his head bowed over Alec’s.

Magnus looks beautiful, all sharp angles and bright eyes, and Alec is struck with the sinking reminder that he’ll have to leave soon, because the world is wider than just the bubble they’ve built around themselves, and time doesn’t actually stop when they’re together, even if it feels like it should.

“I have to get back to the Institute,” Alec whispers, not making any effort to move.

Magnus frowns. “Oh.”

“But,” Alec’s heart sticks in his throat. “I don’t want to.”

Before the night of one-too-many-cocktails, Alec had never spent the night away from the Institute - there had been trips to Idris where he’d stayed in the Lightwood family guest house, but he doubts that counts … not like this does.

This is an active step away from the Institute - and yet, he doesn’t feel that scared. Magnus makes him feel safe, and welcome, and he encourages Alec to go after things that he wants, where he otherwise wouldn’t have let himself.

There’s a part of him, increasing in its volume, that wants to know what spending the night at the loft would feel like, that wants to find out how (undoubtedly adorable) Magnus looks once he’s just woken up, what it’s like to wake up to such a presence, to warmth and affection instead of the cold grey walls of his bedroom at the Institute.

Providing, of course, that Magnus wants the same.

“Well, you could always,” Magnus nips at his bottom lip, appearing uncharacteristically shy, “Stay here tonight?”

This is, Alec realises, as big a step for Magnus as it his for himself - his experience with relationships does little to support the firsts of a new one.

“We wouldn’t have to do anything, of course.” Magnus is quick to reassure. “Just sleep.”

Alec traces an idle pattern against the silk of Magnus’ shirt, thinking of how they’d found themselves here, with Magnus’ weight pressing gently against his body, and the ghost of his kiss against Alec’s lips. How intoxicating being this close to Magnus, with no reservations, or responsibilities, nothing stopping him from having fun.

“I don’t know, I, uh … I quite liked what we were doing before?” Alec comments, his neck burning as heat flushes his skin, his confidence better with actions than words. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, more of … that.”

Magnus smiles, slightly, though there’s still some hesitance at the edges. “Is that a yes, then? To staying the night?”

Alec nods, curling his hands in the fabric of Magnus’ shirt. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.” He admits, leaning up to draw Magnus into a deep kiss, because he wants to, and he can, and he’s still not over the thrill that he’s allowed this.

It all feels like an impossibly wonderful dream, and if Alec is to wake up to find that it’s all been pretend, at least he’ll be able to say that he made the most out of it whilst he could.

Magnus is wearing a headband, one of those thin wiry ones with the metal teeth that Isabelle used to scrape across her skull when she was first experimenting with makeup, and all that Alec can think is how uncomfortable it must be.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” He blurts out, because he’s never been able to stop himself from asking dumb questions where Magnus is around - it doesn’t help that Magnus is always so eager to answer even the most ridiculous query.

Magnus frowns, looking at Alec through the reflection of his vanity mirror. He’d insisted that Alec get into bed first, promising not to take too long, which had admittedly involved a little bit of Alec staring at the mountains of pillows and the gold of the bedsheets trying not to be too intimidated whilst also figuring out how to get under them without messing them up too much.

(Magnus had kindly stifled an amused grin and waved his hand, so that the sheets pulled themselves back, leaving a space for Alec to slip in without feeling as though he’s going to ruin Magnus’ pristine set-up.)

Alec had shifted until he was leaning against the headboard, and he hasn't moved since, hands folded in his lap as his mind tries to wrap itself around the knowledge that he is in Magnus Bane’s bed, in another man’s bed, entirely of his own volition, because he fucking can .

There’s a chance that Alec may not end up falling asleep tonight, and he’s perfectly happy with that.

“Does taking my makeup off, hurt?” Magnus asks, for clarification.

Alec shakes his head, his hand smoothing flatly over the bedsheets. “No - I know that, it’s not supposed to, if done properly and everything ... Iz told me that a while ago. I meant,” He taps his temple. “The headband? It looks painful…”

Magnus touches his fingertips to his own temple. “I suppose it used to, when they were first invented, they were a little more like accidental torture devices, but that’s the beauty of time - it provides the chance for improvement. Of course, there are other kinds of headbands, but I prefer the toothed ones, personally, it does a better job of holding my hair away from my face.”

Alec nods, because he understands the theory, even if he can’t imagine practicing it himself. “Can I ask you another question?”

Magnus smiles warmly, folding a clean white cloth while making contact with Alec through the mirror. “You can ask as few or as many questions as you’d like. I’ll do my best to answer them, within reason of course - I may pretend to be omnipotent at times, but I am afraid that I don’t actually know everything.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell anyone,” Alec assures him, sinking back slightly into the pillows behind him. "Best that everyone believes you're truly indomitable."

Magnus swipes the cloth across his forehead. “That’s very kind of you, Alexander. A true gentleman.”

Alec watches Magnus as he continues to take his makeup off, as the mask falls off to reveal something tender and sweet underneath, yet no less powerful. He sits at the vanity, clad in a midnight blue robe with white stars dotted across the fabric, his shoulders pulling firm at the constellations - he’s so elegant, and poised, and he’s letting Alec in, letting Alec see him, unguarded and open.

“Have you always worn makeup?” Alec asks, because he’s never been good at being anything but blunt, and his curiosity often wins out over any hope of subtlety.

Fortunately, Magnus appears to take the comment in stride, idly swiping the makeup cloth along his jaw. “Not at all. Actually, it’s only been the last hundred years or so, I believe. I dabbled in cosmetics throughout the nineteenth century, as was the style of those decades but I didn’t adapt it as a practice for myself until considerably recently. The eighties I recall brought in a lot of encouragement for alternative styles, and I’d long since gotten tired of pretending to be somebody else just to fit in - I've found, that the only way to truly live is for oneself, and not others.”

Alec knows all too well how damaging living by the rules of others can be - he’s still learning how to put himself first, without considering the opinions of others around him, because his business isn’t theirs.

“It’s a slow process,” Magnus turns, glancing at Alec over his shoulder - it must be a strain, Alec thinks, despite Magnus showing little discomfort at the position. “Figuring out who you are, who you want to be, what makes you truly happy - it isn’t easy. And none of your expectations are bound to come completely true, which is as terrifying as it is amazing. There's so much potential to be found when nothing is set in stone. ”

Alec slumps slightly, his thumb pressing against the veins of his wrist, because it’s easier for him to focus on the pressure against his skin than the way Magnus makes him feel, somewhere between safe and alarmingly vulnerable.

“I gave up on being truly happy a long time ago,” He admits, hating how small he sounds. “I never thought I would be able to get what I wanted, so it seemed … ridiculous, to hope. It was a waste of time that I could better spend on my siblings, to make sure that they never had to feel the way I did.”

There’s a scattered tinkling sound, and then Magnus is standing up from his vanity and Alec isn’t sure if it’s a good thing, or if he’s just accidentally interrupted Magnus’ routine with his sob story.

“Alexander,” Magnus kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching out to squeeze Alec’s hands. “Your love for others is beyond admirable, but surely you have to know that you deserve to be happy, too?”

Alec lets the warmth of Magnus’ hands seep into his own, taking comfort in the simple touch. “I’m starting to figure that out. You … you’ve helped with that, a lot. I never expected to choose myself over my responsibility to my parents, to the Clave, but I have - and I don’t regret a thing.”

Magnus’ smile itself would be worth the impromptu cancellation of Alec’s wedding. “I can’t say that I could ever have imagined dating a Shadowhunter - let alone ending up with one in my bed,” He winks, cheesily, and laughter bubbles up into Alec’s throat. “However, I find myself quite pleased with this turn of events.”

Alec grins, unable to help himself. “Yeah, me too.”

In the morning, Alec will wake up with Magnus’ arm wrapped around his waist, and for a second, he will panic - for all that is unknown and new and for how amazing it feels - and then, a second later, he’ll relax into the touch and the feeling of security it brings. Not long afterwards, Magnus will stir, pressing soft kisses to the back of Alec’s neck, struck by the wonder of the universe and how kind it has been in bringing someone as beautiful as Alec Lightwood into his life.

They’ll share Belgian waffles out on the balcony, and Magnus will drink his coffee black with too many sugars because he doesn’t have the heart to tell Alec that he prefers lattes, not after he’d gone to the effort of struggling with the coffee machine that Magnus had surreptitiously brought in after their second date, just in case. Alec will ignore three calls - two from Jace, and one from Isabelle - in favour of spending a few minutes more with Magnus before he has no choice but to return to the real world, and Magnus will recount the only-slightly-exaggerated story of the time he accidentally stole a boat to impress a date, embellishing a few impossible details to see Alec laugh, carefree and unbound.

Alec will linger by the front door, waving off Magnus’ offer of portalling him back, and Magnus will kiss him goodbye seven times, until Alec’s phone is vibrating so much it sounds like it’s going to explode.

It will be their first morning together - but it will be far from their last.

[movip1991]

personal ramblings below

Tonight, I find myself once again thinking that I wish to be a different person. That, despite how proud I am of my current endeavors, they don't represent the person that I wanted to be. The person that I thought I could be. I feel like I made a wrong turn somewhere between high school and now, somewhere that I can't quite determine. Like I somehow failed to become that person. Not for lack of trying, nor motivation, nor ability, but simply because I lacked the knowledge to be who I wanted and never had the time to figure out how to get there. And that hurts to think about. Who would I be right now, if I had actually been able to follow through on the ideas that I had when I was younger? Is there still a chance for me to capture that feeling once again, and truly enjoy what I do and who I am? Or is it just going to continue to be an endless slog of work with no reward or recognition?

As much as I hate being a downer like that, it's a question that I find myself asking frequently. As I said, I'm proud of the things I do. But I don't think I find them as much fun as I should. It's possible that I'm putting in too much work and stressing myself out. But I think it's more likely that I'm not putting in enough work, never establishing myself in the way that I should, and thus never making it worth the time that I spend on it. There's a back-and-forth within me between wanting to enjoy life, and wanting to give my life purpose.

My deepest, most sincere fear is not anything tangible. It's not spiders, or clowns, or death, or car crashes, or anything. I have a fear of living a meaningless life. It's something that I've thought about a lot recently, as I've started to figure out my own personality some more. I've always felt like I have to be something. In the media that I grew up enjoying, every person is something. Even those other than the heroes - merchants who run their own shops, librarians who cherish their books, football players who decide to quit and pursue a doctorate in biology or something in the end credits of a film. All of those characters have something, are something that they enjoy. I feel like that's where I should be now. But I'm not.

I feel that in a way different from others in my generation. You'll hear often about people who have college degrees, but are unable to make use of them because of a competitive job market. Not me. I knew what I wanted to do in life when I was in elementary school. The exact details of it shifted over time as I discovered my own abilities and limitations, but the goal has largely remained the same. I went to college for that exact thing. I knew my major before any of my friends did. I got a job that made use of that degree. And yet, it feels hollow. I've dedicated a large amount of my free time to compensating for that hollowness. My desire to make music and start a gaming channel both serve to balance out how I spend my time, but they also allow me to produce things. Things that I and other people care about, in a general sense. Other people make and listen to music. Other people play video games, or watch people play video games. Other people write and read. And the people who make those things make a name for themselves in the process. They become known for those things.

And yet, all of my attempts have fallen short. The number of people who listen to my music has only dwindled over time. My gaming channel has no traction, despite regularly releasing content for the past year and a half. I haven't committed myself to writing a full story in ten years, even though I still love writing and language. It just doesn't feel like any of those things are working for me. I feel lost. People think that the ideal of creative endeavors is to enjoy the process of making something regardless of reward, and that's what I followed for the past eight years. But at some point, it starts to feel like it doesn't matter. Like, for all that I do, and all the time and effort I put into it, it doesn't mean anything. Very few people will ever listen to my music. Even fewer people will ever read this post, if I even decide to make it. That feeling drains away at you over time. If nobody says anything to you, if nobody acknowledges that you've made something, have you really made anything at all?

I think that's what I mean when I say that I'm afraid of having a meaningless life. It's not like I don't try to do things. In fact, I'd say I succeed at making the things that I want to. And I am proud of myself for making those things. Yet, there's always that doubt lingering. While I watch other people succeed, from my childhood idols to random people on Twitter, I only watch myself sink further into obscurity. And nothing I do, nothing I say, can reverse that. There's a very strong sense of futility that comes from that. I start to think sometimes that, no matter what I do, it will never be enough. That no one will ever care.

It's hard to deal with. Even now, as I write this, I'm trying to find ways to tell myself that I can still make something and make it count. There are still things for me to work on. Things that I want to work on, that I can work on, and god dammit, that I will work on. But it's not easy. Every one of those things takes time. And the more time it takes, the less time I have, and the less opportunity others have to be impacted by it. The less I feel like it's worth the time it takes.

What I want at this moment is to be different. To be someone who can find fascination in the things they enjoy. Who can get deeply invested in something, take the time to create it, and know that they will love it. Who can be happy not with their own ability, but with their purpose. Who can feel like they were put here for a reason - that they are experiencing life from this perspective because it is an important perspective.

Right now, I do not feel that way.

I realize that, with my Tumblr queue dried up, this is probably my last post on this site. I feel kind of bad about making it such a negative post, but I think this is the only place I can put some long-form text without worrying friends and family. Rest assured that I do not feel depressed right now, just... listless, I guess. Aimless. I still want to do things, and still want to make things. I'm just struggling to figure out what exactly I should be doing, and how I should be spending my time. There's no clear answer. I guess I'll find out someday, if I happen to stumble into the thing that works for me. If you need me, I’ll be on Twitter.

Keep safe.

[spectrumed]

8. book

I decided to start writing a book. A novel, it’s going to be fiction. It’s a big project. I dread big projects. I don’t feel as if I am ever able to complete them. It’s going to be left unfinished, why do I even bother? So many projects that I’ve started and never finished. I get an idea, then I can’t make myself do the actual work to make it a reality. Why do I think I can write a book when I can barely read books without becoming distracted and doing something else instead? I give up too easily. But, then again, do I really have it in me to produce something that is good? That people would want to read? Insecurity creeps in, telling me that I will fail. I fear failure. Of course I do, who doesn’t? Whenever people say that their greatest fear is failure, all I wonder is who out there is not afraid of failure? Is there someone out there with so much confidence that they absolutely do not in any way fear failure? Even narcissists technically fear failure, it is what leads them to such ridiculous overcompensation, putting on the facade of bravado to mask their actual dire sense of insecurity. Do not fall for the scams, no person is truly without self-doubt. (Well, I guess maybe psychopaths, but there’s a whole lot of things amiss with them.)

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve entertained myself by coming up with stories, fictional universes that I would populate with characters of my own invention. When I was a kid, what I really wanted was to become a comic book writer and artist. Well, in between other gigs I imagined would suit me, including at one point wanting to be a “singing farmer,” as I put it. Still, I’ve always returned to fiction and storytelling. There’s something about creating a world that lets you so fully distract yourself from all the stressful daily hullabaloo that goes on around you. Escapism, it’s fun, it’s therapeutic, I think. There’s a reason why humans have been telling each other stories for millennia, since even before we lived in houses. Back when we were all huddled around the fire, wearing our best comfortable animal furs, sharing tales of the hunt. Your uncle who once took part in killing a mammoth, the impressive beast nearly gorging him with its big tusks. How clever he was when he noticed that the mammoth had one leg weaker than the others, and used that to his advantage. How the entire hunting party banded together to bring the behemoth down, getting all that meat to feed their families with for months! Stories make you feel good. Like as if you have something to celebrate, even when you might be starving due to the more recent hunts not having gone as well. Damn that saber-tooth tiger that killed your uncle…

Storytelling is linked to acting. Both with acting and with storytelling you have to commit. Whatever you are doing, whatever role you are performing, you have to sell it. You may be on stage talking about that time you went scuba diving with your future wife, and how you encountered an oyster with the most magnificent pearl inside, and how you made a ring for the pearl and used it when you proposed to her. You have to sell it. You have to get the audience laughing, gasping, crying, going “aww,” feeling as if they were there with you that day. Of course, they don’t know it is all just lies. You made it up. It’s all fiction. But you committed, so they won’t ever know. Storytelling is a gift to others, people will appreciate you if you tell good stories, but you’re also kinda deviant. Even if it’s technically based on a true story, you’ve certainly added your embellishments. You’re a trickster, a devious individual. No wonder actors have historically been seen as dubious folks. They come into town, romances all the young women and men, telling them big tales of their lives on the road, and they can’t possibly know if you are telling the truth or not. You may just be lying. You probably are lying. Let’s be honest, you’ve probably not told a single true thing in your life.

I am bad at the hustle. No, I can talk quite well, and I can keep people’s attention for a long while. But I can’t be a huckster. Going out there, putting myself on the line hoping people will swallow my bullshit. I can’t really avoid speaking from my heart when I do speak. Or when I write, as I happen to be doing now. This blog has so far been thoroughly candid in places, in such a way I may come across like I’m at a confessional. Not that I have much evil to confess, but I can’t help but be transparent. I can’t flip into different kinds of personalities, each with its own schemes and plots, being some master manipulator, someone who you can never figure out what they're truly up to, or what they truly want. No, what I am is clearly written on my face. I’ve got one self, and it is the one before you. He’s hairy, and tall, and a bit of a dork. I am happy to talk to you, to engage with you, but I won’t be anyone but myself. I am me. I hope that’ll do.

Of course you are familiar with all those pick-up artists that plagues the internet. Or well, not just the internet. Go into any old-fashioned bookstore (where they store books on paper, not in digital code,) and you are bound to find some sleazy book written by a sleazy guy about how to sleazily seduce women. Those books don’t want you acting like me. According to them, seduction is all about manipulation. To figure out the very right thing to say to get women to fawn all over you. They don’t want you to be sincere, telling the truth as you see it. Nah, you gotta keep that stuff bottled up, deep down inside your soul, because most likely, your true self is ugly. It’s interesting how you can get little details from these pick-up artists depending on the sort of things they say, the tips they provide. The fact that all of them seem to harbour this festering misogyny is no big surprise, but every so often, you get these little glimpses of these people’s true worldview, one where power is everything, true love is a fallacy, and happiness is a lie manufactured by Hollywood to make us all into docile consumers. No wonder the “red-pill” so often leads to people taking the “black-pill.” First hucksters will lure you in, telling you that they’ve got the secret as to how to be a success, then when they’ve got you isolated, they reveal to you how truly misanthropic and bleak their actual beliefs are.

I am fascinated with cults, for much of the same reason why I am fascinated with storytelling. What is a cult leader if not just a great storyteller? They’re something like the modern day shaman, capable of spellbinding people with their weird idiosyncratic way of speaking. High-functioning people with autism are often said to have an idiosyncratic way of speaking. No, I am not suggesting that cult leaders are all somewhere on the spectrum, though it wouldn’t surprise me if some famous cult leaders did turn out to have been on the spectrum. However, for an autistic person to become a cult leader, I think they would have to be a true believer, and not some fraud just looking to scam others. Ultimately, no autistic person would want to surround themselves with people unless they truly do believe it is essential, to like, save mankind from damnation or something. It’s the difference between sincerity and insincerity. It is difficult for autistic people to be insincere, as insincerity requires a lot of social skills that autistic people struggle with. Having to juggle all these balls in the air, making sure you keep the big lie going, that you remember to change your behaviour depending on who you are speaking to in order to keep them from figuring out that you’re a bullshitter. Hollow people are great at being insincere. People like L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the highly profitable cult that is Scientology, was at his core a hollow individual. He had no problems twisting the minds of the people around him, because he never felt a need to be sincere. If an autistic person were to become a cult leader, I can guarantee you that it wouldn’t be a profitable cult. Nah, autistic people aren’t in it for the money, we’re all about keeping it real.

Being a sincere person, surely I should be able to write a novel and make it feel earnest. Like it was delivered with passion, because I wouldn’t be able to write anything that wasn’t true to myself. Well, I do hope so. Having something I’ve made be referred to as genuine is something I see as a great compliment. I’m a student of art history, I’ve made some “serious” art before, I know how terrible art can be when it is not delivered with good faith. Sure, some art is cynical, or ironic, but even then, it tends to come from a real place. Good artists, even when they’re fully armed with the dada mindset, must believe in what they are doing. Whether they are doing it for a laugh or not, that’s irrelevant. Even if all you wish is to be silly and make something that is comical, you have to believe in what you are creating. Or else people won’t bother engaging with it. Why look at a painting by someone who is just interested in making money? Insincere artists do exist, and they can end up becoming quite successful, but ultimately, history won’t be kind to them. Damien Hirst comes to mind, heard he's into NFTs now.

Sure, I don’t like insincere people. Does that make me a bigot? Like, it’s not as if they can help themselves. It’s just who they are, spineless maggots with no soul. It doesn’t mean we have to hate them. No, no, no... I am just generalising. Don’t go thinking there’s just two kinds of people in the world, the sincere and the insincere. It’s not a binary. Most people are both, just like with introverts and extroverts, humans are complex. But there are definitely those that decide to feed into their insincere side, realising that it is often the key to success. Through insincerity, you learn to let go of self-doubt, you stop worrying so much about what others think of you, because you are never truly yourself. If they hate you, then so what? They don’t actually hate you, they just hate a role that you are playing. So what if you seduced that woman, made her feel as if you were the perfect match, then you ghosted her and completely forgot about her? It’s her fault for falling for your tricks. You were clearly just playing the game, being a super-seducer, she should have known better. By embracing insincerity, it’s like gaining a superpower. No longer do you have to care about the impact you have on others, no longer do you have to worry about what it means to be a social human being making choices that affect the others around you. Because you’re not the person they think you are. Actually, you’re not quite sure you’re the person you think you are… Who are you?

I’ve got the plot all laid out in my head for the novel. It’s going to be based in the fantasy world that I’ve been working on for the last few years. I’ve been working on this world for almost half a decade now, come to think of it. Why do I keep feeling as if I am never able to keep to a project, when I’ve clearly been working on a massive project all this time? Sure, it’s all just in my head, but it’s not as if most people have the kind of patience to keep going back to a single big project, even if it is just in their head. Not once, while thinking about my fantasy world have I been distracted and started thinking about cute puppies, instead. And you know how difficult that is. Maybe I am too hard on myself. Maybe I will finish this book, and maybe people will want to read it. Maybe it will even get a minimal number of angry reviews, like, I may get a book published without some folks trying to harass me into committing suicide for daring to think I can write. Some people may even be enthusiastic, blowing up my ego with great praise. Maybe someone will come along and tell me that they want to buy the rights to make my book into a movie or a television series. Maybe I will get rich? Maybe I will get famous! Woo! Success here I come!

Well, no, here I go being insincere. That’s not what it’s about. I should be writing this book because I want to write it. Because I want to prove to myself that I am able to write it. Sure, it’s not as if there’s not a little brain goblin inside my mind whispering sweet nothings about how one day I might turn out a real respected author. One with real fans that gets to do big book tours talking about how brilliant I am, how brilliant my work is, and how brilliant things are going for me. I am not going to pretend I don’t have the same aspirations for success that others have. Inside of me you will find the same greedy piglet of an ego hungry for more adoration and more validation that you will find in any person. Humans don’t know when to quit, we always want more. But I am at least safe knowing that I will never debase myself, descending to the same depths as those inhabited by soulless grifters who go through life abusing the trust of others in order to get by. I’m sincere, in the end. I always turn out sincere, in the end. I am a good boy.

And I am also really sexy. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before on this blog, but I am really, REALLY, sexy. Like, you wouldn’t believe it. Oh, I am so hot. And if you follow and subscribe and hit that bell, I will teach you how you can be just as sexy as I am! And buy my book! And my merch! And my new single! And of course, my new cryptocurrency, by the name of “autism-coin.” It’s going to be a real success on 4chan, let me tell ya!

[creaturebloom]

the end of things

so in october of last year i ended my incredibly intense and all-consuming relationship with crush man. it was the right thing to do.

i was more open on twitter abt like all the things that happened, negatively speaking, but i know at least a few people were somewhat invested in this story so here is my final thoughts on things

crush man was ... great, until he wasn’t anymore. we were very close and i very much loved him, and as we know he did not feel the same. after that things really started to change. before that things were not always so great. i felt angry a lot and didn’t know why.

the thing of it is, when you spend a lot of time around someone who is angry, it makes you into someone who is angry.

once he moved back to the states it was ... strange. a quick spiral, let’s say, downwards.

it was a relief once he got a job and was busy all the time. it was a relief and i remember those months before thinking to myself that i only had to hold out a little longer. that i only had to wait it out and then we would just drift apart and that would be fine. i would be fine with that.

that did not happen.

a few months in he quit his job and by this time i had gotten, for once, back into my own life. i realized how much i had been missing out on. how much freedom i experienced in those months when he was working was more than i’d had in the last year and a half.

i no longer felt compelled and obligated to spend all of my time with him. i no longer felt the sincere need to work my schedule around his, and always, always make plans that involved him. and this filled me with an extreme sense of guilt, which is something i have always struggled with. guilt.

the signs were always there. he was always controlling, and he was always manipulative, only i didn’t know it then. maybe he got worse at hiding it, or maybe i started paying more attention.

at some point during the course of our relationship to one another i came across the book “why does he do that?” about abusive men, and i didn’t read it then because i thought it would only make me anxious, because i thought it would only put ideas in my head. the truth of it is that i was scared to have my anxieties confirmed. i was scared that he was being emotionally abusive.

but i loved him, you know? i really did.

and i felt responsible. i felt so responsible for him. if he was having a bad day, it was my fault. if he got upset over something, it was my fault. if i could just do things the right way and listen to him enough, well, then things would be fine, wouldn’t they? i could calm him down. i could help him work through whatever recent crises he was having, of which there were many.

the thing about angry people, though, is that eventually they turn that anger on you. no matter what, they do it. you become available and easy to target. the easiest target, maybe.

it’s hard because it’s hard to recognize abuse when it’s scattered with good things. when it comes cloaked in a personality that makes you laugh so hard your face hurts. when it is disguised as someone who genuinely cares for you. i’m not saying he didn’t care for me. he did, in his own way, i’m sure. he cared for me the way someone cares for the person they think is going to save them.

he drowned me, the way someone drowning clings to their savior, the one that is foolish enough to get into the water and swim out to them.

but you can’t save someone who is drowning that does not want to be saved. he did not want to be saved. he did not really want my help. he would ask for my advice, wrap himself up in my assurances, and do nothing. he would do nothing to change his situation though he had all the means to do it.

it was hard, often. going back through this tag sometimes i wonder if i really wrote these things. if i really felt that way. i know that i did. i know that i wrote often of our closeness and how i had never felt so comfortable with someone. but that didn’t last. not really.

i became wholly uncomfortable, but didn’t quite realize it. i was afraid to do anything that he might not like, even when he wasn’t around. because he would get so mad about things, such little things. i died in a game once, and he got mad about it. i didn’t follow his exact instructions, and he would get mad about it.

i tried to, over video chat, help him to build his computer, which i had picked out all the parts for because he could not or would not do it. he got mad because i wasn’t understanding a question he had. he got so frustrated about it all. i told him i’d never done it before, never built a computer, but he still got so mad at me, like it was my fault for even trying to help him.

other things, worse things, but i don’t want to speak of those. just always he was angry. at me, at his family, at his life. maybe at himself. perhaps mostly at himself.

how do you help someone who has been traumatized? how do you help someone who turns that trauma into rage? who feeds off of it, who cannot let it go, who uses it as a reason to be the way they are? maybe that’s unfair to level at him. maybe he didn’t want to be that way. maybe he didn’t want to be so angry all the time. but he was. he was and he was angry at me and i don’t know why.

far in enough and i wasn’t allowed to have other friends. i wasn’t really allowed to have anything to myself. he wanted to insert himself into every aspect of my life all over again, but i had stopped being in love with him a long time before this. i think i resented him.

he wanted everything to go back to how it was when we met, but that wasn’t going to happen. i was doing things, living my own life, accomplishing things i had not been able to do for almost two years at this point. because he took up all of my time. an obsession. we were, without a doubt, obsessed with each other.

it was not healthy from the get-go. i didn’t know it then but i know it now.

he was unkind to me, moreso in those last months. the last time we spoke he basically threatened to do some irreparable harm to himself, all because i was not spending enough time with him.

he asked if i would just try. if i would just try to save him. over and over and i said no. i said no and could not bring myself to say that i had been trying. that i had been trying so hard and for so long. i could not bring myself to tell him that he did not want to be saved.

that’s the other thing, really. you can’t save someone. you can help them to save themselves, surely you can, but you can’t do it on your own. changing someone’s life only works if they’re willing to make changes, too. he was not willing.

i tried too hard and for too long to make our relationship something that worked for the both of us. establish healthy boundaries, and all that. he hated it. he absolutely hated it and he resented me for taking my life back.

see the thing is, he loved, loved, loved the fact that he was the center of my life. but i was not the center of his. not by any means. if he didn’t contact me for a week it was “sorry, i lost track of time” and that sad little voice. apologies. he apologized so many times for so many things, and i always forgave him.

but if i wasn’t around, it was a crisis. it was unforgivable that i not be there for him when he needed me. and i felt that. i felt guilty all the fucking time for it.

that’s what emotional abusers do, though. they make you feel guilty for not doing what they want. they make you feel like you’re the bad guy here. it was my fault, of course, always, for everything.

the funny thing is that he once told me that he’d been in abusive relationships, both sides of them. he meant physical, i’m sure, but i don’t think he realized what he was doing to me also counted as abuse. and it does. i can admit that now.

did i have a bit of stockholm syndrome going on? i don’t know. i definitely had a guilt complex. i definitely thought that all the good things we had between us were worth the awful things. they were not worth it, it turns out.

earlier today i read a post somewhere that was sort of humorous but it boiled down to “pretty sure your soulmate isn’t the guy making you cry every day”

that was me !! i was crying every day ! all the time !

i thought he was going to fucking kill himself. i thought if i didn’t behave a certain way or do things just how he wanted, he would kill himself. he would get so upset sometimes, truly he would, and i didn’t know what to do about any of it.

anyway this post is very long. i’m still processing, i guess, these four months later.

our last phone conversation was awful. he woke me up and immediately started crying and ranting. the point of it was, though he did not say so many words, that i was not spending enough time with him. that he was so upset because he missed me. no. that’s what he thought the truth was, maybe, that was what he had convinced himself of.

the truth was that he could not stand to be alone, and i was the fool willing to put up with him. in my journals there are many entries where i refer to myself as his companion animal, and it truly felt that way sometimes.

it didn’t matter that i was me. it only mattered that he wasn’t alone. it only mattered that there was someone willing to take all of his shit and all of his anger and all of his abuse and put up with it. because i loved him. because i didn’t follow my gut and leave much earlier. because i thought there was good in him.

and there is. good, i mean. there is good in him. the thing that makes it so confusing when you’re inside a relationship like that is the good parts. if it was only ever bad, well, i would not have stayed. who would? but there were good parts. you can read about them.

anyway, after this final phone conversation i wrote him a letter and very maturely and delicately explained things to him, and that i was leaving. i blocked or deleted him on everything, except for email. i said that if he had something to say to me it was only fair, and he could write me. he never did.

he tried to call a few times, but i set his number to go straight to voicemail. he never left a message. i have heard of him, through a mutual friend. he seems better now, so has been said. i hope that’s true. i hope he’s doing better.

but i cannot speak with him and i will not put myself in that position again.

my favorite way to phrase it is: i don’t want to talk badly of him, but also fuck that guy.

[otterlyardent]

A simple Dramione prompt

Dramione Prompt: What if Draco wasn’t the insufferable prat everyone knew him to be? What if he merely had to live up to the expectations of being a Malfoy? What if, after the first time he called Hermione Granger a mudblood, he’d overheard Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil speaking about how their roomate had cried and sobbed for hours after his terrible taunts? Later, hidden away from his own friends, in the sanctuary of his curtained bed he wrote her an apology letter. A way to alleviate some of his own guilt for behaving like such a scoundrel. And what if it became a regular thing? Each time he ended up throwing spiteful words and painful insults at the intelligent lioness, he’d spent the evening pouring out his remorse in ink on parchment?

♥♥♥

Granger,

Though I imagine I’ll never work up the courage to actually give you this letter, I felt compelled to write it regardless. I’m much too cowardly to try and approach you especially after my behavior this afternoon. It was a terrible thing to do, and though I’m sure you wouldn’t believe it - my mother would be ashamed of the horrid things I said in the company of a young lady and the fact that I said them to a young lady...well, let’s just say I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that howler.

Truth be told, Granger - I said those things with intent to hurt and I feel utterly ashamed of it. See, my whole life I’ve been lead to believe that those of muggle birth are wrong and dangerous. That they’re stealing our magic from us. I’ve been told all my life that muggle-born witches and wizards don’t have the control necessary to use magic safely and effectively. As well as lacking the intelligence needed to learn the proper use of said magic and spells.  

Imagine my horrified surprise to find that my whole life has basically been a lie. You’re not only incredibly gifted with your magic but you’re also undeniably brilliant. You’ve managed to surpass all of us and in such a brief amount of time. I fear my actions today were spawned from the argument I had with my father recently. He’s very put out with me because I’ve “allowed” you to beat me in each and every subject. He’s very cross with me at the moment, and told me in no uncertain terms that I’m sullying the Malfoy name each time you do better than I.

And it’s with a heavy heart that I realized I acted out of jealousy, spite and embarrassment and hurt you with my words. I overheard your friends speaking about your reaction later, and truthfully Granger - I feel like a bloody arse. No matter what your opinion is of me, which I’m fully aware must be very low - I feel no sense of victory knowing that my words cut deeply enough to make someone as strong as you are cry.

I don’t like making girls cry. I don’t like knowing I made you cry. I feel horribly about it all. It’s rather confusing, to be entirely honest.

I wish I could tell you how bloody brilliant I think you are. I’m sure you know this already, about your brilliance, I mean. But not only that, Granger. You’re kind and loyal and gentle and ...good. It’s no wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor - I don’t think anyone else embodies the house quite like you do. You’re rather amazing, Granger. Muggle born, or not. I wish I could tell you that instead of trying to tear you down each and every time we face off.

I am sorry, Granger. Truly. I wish I could be as good a person as you are. I wish I were allowed to be.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

♥♥♥

Hermione,

I swear by the old gods and new, I didn’t mean it.

I don’t want you to die. I don’t even know why I said such a horrific thing.

I do know that I’ve been sick twice just thinking about it. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

And now you’re in the infirmary and no one knows if or when you’ll all wake up and I’m so fucking sorry...so sorry. I’d curse my own bloody self if it’d help in any way. I wish there were something I could do, I wish I could atone for this disgusting, vile need to lash out at you so often.

I hate myself for it. You don’t deserve it, Hermione. I know you don’t, but it’s expected of me and I’m just not strong enough to forge my own way. And Merlin knows you deserve so much better.

Fuck, please wake up, Hermione. Even if I can never bring myself to actually apologize to you - you have wake up. You make the world brighter just by being a part of it.

Please wake up. And forgive me. Please.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy

♥♥♥

Hermione Granger,

I’m so bloody proud of you.

While you would probably never believe me, my wounded pride after the hippogriff incident isn’t what caused me to go to my father over it. And I truly didn’t know that he would be so savage in his quest for retribution. I know now that my behavior that day caused the attack, but the moment it happened you had looked so frightened and all I could think was that I didn’t want anything like that to happen to you, or anyone else I guess.

But blimey, the way you looked when you were stomping towards me, your wild hair was crackling with magic and your eyes - your eyes were flashing with fury and righteous indignation and then you punched me and Merlin it hurt but I all I could think was how fucking proud I was of you. You showed absolutely no fear, and even though you must’ve been overwhelmed in your grief at the matter, not an ounce of it showed in that moment.

You looked like a glorious avenging angel ready to strike me down.

You never cease to amaze me. I’m sorry about the whole damn thing, except for that punch. I’ve deserved it for years and I’m quite happy you got the chance to do it. You deserved to be the one to do so.

Sincerely,

The foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach

♥♥♥

Hermione,

You looked utterly breathtaking tonight. I cannot express in words how beautiful you looked. It literally took my breath away. And trust me, I was not only one. I’ve always known that you were attractive on some level, I am man and you are a woman and we notice those types of things, but tonight?

You looked like angel.

I saw you after, crying. It quite simply broke my heart to see you broken mere hours after you looked like you were on top of the world. I had wanted to come to you and offer comfort, but I knew I couldn’t and you most likely would’ve have hexed me had I tried. So instead, I noseyed around until I found someone willing to gossip.

The Weasel is stupid, Granger. He’s blind and ignorant and I’d love nothing more than to break his stupid face with my fists.

You were glorious tonight, Hermione. He’s probably only cross because he was to thick to notice what we all have and embarrassed that he blew his chance. I sincerely hope you don’t take any of what that imbecile said to heart.

You’re much too smart for that.

You’re a beautiful girl, Hermione. A beautiful girl with a beautiful soul and brilliant mind. Anyone would be extraordinarily lucky to call you their own. And I’m so dreadfully sorry that your night was tarnished.

I feel kind of hollow and desperately sad about it myself.

Perhaps it’s because my evening was spent listening to Pansy ramble on and on about you in jealousy. But I doubt it.

Chin up, Hermione. You’re much too beautiful to cry.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy

♥♥♥

Hermione,

I am so sorry.

This is getting too hard now. How am I supposed to apologize for my own father trying to kill you and all of your friends? How am I supposed to make that any better?

I was so relieved when you pulled through. That curse you took, it’s ghastly. I thought for sure…

But you’re always surprising me aren’t you? You’re so bloody strong, Granger. Salazar forgive me, but I think you’re the most incredible witch I’ve ever met.

Things are getting bad, really bad and I’m bloody terrified, Hermione. I don't want this. Any of it, but - I have no choice. I don’t know what to do. Gods, I’d give anything to actually be able to talk to you about this. You’re so fucking smart, Granger. If anyone could figure a way out, it’d be you.

Fuck.

Should have, could have, would have…

Blast, Hermione, I’m never going to be able to earn your forgiveness now. I had hoped, desperately that one day, maybe...but no, not now.

Is it wrong of me to hate my father?

Regretfully and faithfully yours,

Draco Malfoy