#I could see it being a fad for people to learn at one point

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 5 (Tabaeus x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

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x x x x x

Hours pass and Tabaeus is enthralled with the computer and the Internet. After you provided some supplemental lessons - such as some key sites they may find interesting, how to open documents and save files, and helping them set up a free e-mail account - you left Tabaeus to their own devices. On the promise the vampire would ask you if they had questions or if something - ahem - unseemly popped up.

You’ve managed to reply to your manager and even taken a nap in your room, before deciding to rouse Tabaeus from their Internet fugue. 

As you wander into the kitchen, retrieving a soda from the fridge, you call over to Tabaeus over the short distance, “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” they mumble, their shoulders hunched as they lean over the desk, staring a bit too intensely at the screen.

You make a curious sound as you, with your soda in hand, peer over Tabaeus’s shoulder. On the screen, an article about vampires is displayed. It’s from an old site, with a pure black background and obnoxiously ornate font. 

“Ah, researching your roots,” you comment with soft amusement as you pop the soda tab open and take a sip. You lay your hand on the back of the chair, fingers just grazing Tabaeus’s shoulder. 

Your small touch seems to break through the digital daze. Tabaeus blinks, their eyes shifting from the screen to your hand. You can see reality resetting itself in their brain as they offer you an awkward smile. But the attention is short, as they’re soon turning quickly back to the screen.

“Yes, but seeing these images is making me hungry,” Tabaeus uses the mouse to wave the pointer over the accumulated gallery. You can’t help but notice that much of the depictions involve people clad in nearly translucent gowns, feasting or being feasted upon, in quasi-erotic poses. The bite marks on your throat throb and you recall a hazy memory of how the blood tickled as it dribbled down your skin. You shove the thought away before it can settle and warm your cheeks.

From the way Tabaeus is avoiding your eye, you’re fairly certain their hunger is two-fold. Blood and lust. You try to ignore that realization by grinning at Tabaeus and snarkily asking, “Want a bowl of cereal?”

Their lips press into an unamused line as their red gaze tilts up at you. You merely grin back, delighting in the mild annoyance emanating from them. It’s only when they move to slowly stand that you begin to worry you overstepped some line between you two. Or maybe that’s what you wanted, you realize, as you fumble backward. Even though your heart is thrumming, you can’t seem to find an iota of fear as Tabaeus closes the distance. 

Something solid bumps into your back. With a start, you realize Tabaeus has backed you across the small living room, against the far wall. A quick calculation tells you that the vampire is too close for you to slink away and, within a breath of being cornered, Tabaeus is stooped over you. 

One of their long-fingered hands plants against the wall, right beside your head. The light scrape of their nails, now longer and darker and curved, hisses against the wall and right into your year. They bring their free hand to your chin, barely touching you. But you still tip your head back, tilting your gaze toward their face.  

“You know what I want, little sango sako,” Tabaeus purrs, their clawed fingers delicately trailing along your jaw before coasting down your throat. Somewhere, in a totally separate pocket of your brain, you wonder where their timidness has gone. 

“Wh-what does that mean?” Tabaeus’s eyes lazily flick from your neck, back to your face as you speak. You try to clear the stutter from your throat before clarifying, “Sango sako?”

“You do not know esperanto?” A slow smile spreads over Tabaeus’s lips, showing off those fearsome rows of sharp points, as you shake your head.

The smug grin crossing the vampire’s lips makes you balk a little. “Should I?” 

“It was supposed to become an international language, so all could communicate.” Tabaeus gives an amused hum. Their gaze travels down your throat and the air in your lungs seize, memories of the last feeding razing over your nerves. Realizing themself, Tabaeus’s attention flicks back to your face and their smile takes on an impish angle, “I called you a little blood bag.” 

Your eyes widen as heat bleeds hotter in your cheeks, embarrassment twining with the anticipation of the moment. Before you can even think it, your hands have planted against Tabaeus’s chest and pushed against them. “Oh! You are awful!” 

Infuriatingly, the vampire doesn’t even budge. Instead, Tabaeus looks at your arms, head tilted to the side like a cat surveying a bug with interest. “Yes, well you knew what I meant when I said I was hungry.” 

You clap your hands around your neck, ignoring the slight ache from where Tabaeus had previously fed. “Well good fucking luck getting a snack off me now! Calling me a bloodbag… geez.” 

That curious look returns to your face. A smile tilts at their lips, an easy delight dancing in their eyes. “I am good at waiting.”

“Tabaeus.” Your eyebrows dip as the stern word manages to break free from your tightly pressed lips. As easy-going as Tabaeus is taking the moment, you cannot do the same. Such a casual reminder of how you were a food source reignited some lingering fear from that first night. It’s joined with the apprehension from being enthralled and the uncertainty of trusting a vampire who, allegedly, has lost their memories.

Reading your body language, Tabaeus’s eyes widen and their pointed ears droop. They push themself away from the wall and take a couple steps back, giving you a wide berth of space. Their hands remain at their shoulder height, lightly curled into fists in an attempt to hide their claws. “My apologies, I was only teasing.” 

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, still feeling the burn of mortification on your cheeks and still keeping your hands tightly locked around your throat. “Try not to be so convincing next time.”

“Duly noted.” Tabaeus’s fingers start to shift against their palm. One arm lowers as the other reaches toward you, slowly and carefully. You stare as Tabaeus holds out their hand to you. Despite yourself, the earnest look in their eye has you reaching for their hand. 

Once your palm grazes theirs, their fingers curl under yours and they lift your hand. They press your bent knuckles to their cheek, leaning their face against your fingers. Tabaeus closes their eyes, a sad crease between their brows as their voice dips softly, “It was not my intention to frighten you. I am so sorry.”

A blush crawls over your cheeks at the touch of Tabaeus’s cheek against your hand. You frown, agitated with yourself as you gently pull your hand from the vampire’s grasp. Their eyes crack open, a pouty frown forming on their lips, but they release you. 

“Other than making yourself hungry, have you learned anything new?” The question comes with an edge, reminding Tabaeus of the line they overstepped while trying to maintain a measure of politeness.

“Quite a lot, actually.” Tabaeus straightens, their eyes warming with jubilation. Their guilt over their mistake completely forgotten. If you had known, you would have braced yourself for an array of information that would have satisfied a five-year-old’s curiosity. Soon, you forget how Tabaeus had reignited your concerns and fear, under their onslaught of knowledge.

Did you know that the Japanese have made square watermelons? Or that there are spiders that keep tiny frogs as pets, to keep pests from eating the spider’s eggs? Oh, or that Earth used to be purple and, speaking of the color, there’s only two countries that have it in their flag? And on the historical note, did you know more photos were taken in the past seven years than in all of previous history? 

You can’t help but smile and simply nod, occasionally offering a comment, as Tabaeus continues to rattle off fact after fact, often segueing themselves into a completely separate topic. They remind you a little of how you were as a kid, when the Internet opened up so many worlds to you. Cute and charming, in its own way. 

When Tabaeus finally seems to be running out of steam, you decide to steer them back towards more pressing topics. “Have you learned anything that explains your memories a bit better?” 

“Ah, not quite.” They deflate a little under that question, even though you can’t blame them. The amount of information that has been opened up to them is overwhelming and easy to get distracted by. Though you had been hoping something would spark their own knowledge of the memories. Likely, they need more structured research, but you figure giving them free reign for their first ‘lesson’ will make narrowing down topics easier.

“That’s alright,” you reassure Tabaeus, with a pat on their arm. “I’m going to use the computer now, though.” 

“What do you need to research?” The vampire cocks their head to the side and their eyes follow you as you make your way to the computer desk.

“The Internet is for more than just research,” you say as you sit yourself in front of the monitor. You partially thankful Tabaeus hadn’t stumbled onto some more illicit sites. If the barely scandalous gallery on the vampire site got them hungry, you worry what out-and-out porn would do to them. Of course, they never clarified what sort of hunger, so maybe you were just misinterpreting their own body language. 

Shaking the line of thought from your head, you enter a URL to a popular home searching site into the bar. “I’d like to find a better place to live.”

Tabaeus’s eyebrows furrow and you can hear them look around your apartment, now with a discerning eye. “Is your current residence not appropriate?” 

“Not for the two of us.” You are clicking on various options as you reply. A basement and an attic would be nice, giving options to Tabaeus for a room. You faintly wonder how many rooms you’ll want. Should you plan for others to be involved in this arrangement? What if you found someone to date? Or what if Tabaeus needed another source of blood at some point? What if they aren’t as sincere and naive as they’ve acted?

Your brain spins with possibilities and potentialities. Various could-be futures fracture and spread out in your mind’s eye. 

“Oh, I thought it was cozy here.” Tabaeus’s words bring you back to actuality. Turning away from the array of home options, you catch their eye and offer them a slight grin.

“The universe plopped a wealthy vampire into my lap.” Tabaeus opens their mouth and you know they’re going to say that no, they’ve never been in your lap. You cut them off, continuing to speak, “So I might as well try my luck further and buy a house, yeah?”

“You do not own this place?” Realization begins to dawn in Tabaeus’s eyes, their eyebrows ticking upward. The second you shake your head, they scuttle up beside your seated self and crouch down, so they can peer comfortably up at the computer screen. “Well, in that case, let us see what abodes are available, yes?”

“Hah, I knew you’d be up for it,” you lightly laugh and roll your eyes as you turn back to the screen yourself. “You shopaholic, you.” 

Though Tabaeus’s eyes don’t turn from the computer, watching as you click on particular features and seeing as the options change, they still have the presence of mind to ask, “Shopaholic?” 

“It means you like buying things. A lot.” You glance down at Tabaeus, slightly amused with this absurdly tall vampire sitting at your elbow. Their red eyes catch the glint of the computer screen, making the hue all the more prominent.

Their gaze breaks from the monitor to your face. Hesitantly, as their eyebrows furrow once more, Tabaeus mumbles, “Does not everyone enjoy buying things for themselves?”

At that, you chuckle and your voice takes on a teasing tone, “Technically, you’ll be buying this house for me.”

It doesn’t even take Tabaeus a moment to respond, “Does not everyone enjoy buying things for those they care about, then?” 

You’re not sure which has you blushing hotter. The fact they barely even had to think about their retort or the fact Tabaeus - in such a short amount of time - has deemed you ‘someone they care about.’ 

Trying to hide the fact you’re internally squirming, you try to laugh off their comment. “A house is a little much. Especially since we’ve barely known each other.” 

“There is a way to… ah, what was that term?” Tabaeus presses their cheek to the back of your free hand, turning their red gaze up at you from their tilted face. You try to ignore them, keeping your eyes on the house listings, but your heart is thumping loud enough they likely hear it. A toothy smile spreads across their lips as the term finally comes to mind, “Oh, yes! We could speedrun getting to know one another fully, yes?” 

That breaks your diligent attempt to ignore them. A laugh bubbles up from your lips and you turn a disbelieving look down at the vampire kneeling beside you. From the way Tabaeus’s smile tilts, they’re enjoying your amusement. 

You’re not entirely sure the vampire understands the innuendo in their words. With your eyes narrowing, you try to purse your lips but only manage a puckered smile. “You’re talking about drinking my blood again, aren’t you?” 

“Am I that transparent?” A theatrical sigh escapes from Tabaeus, making you roll your eyes. Though your smile doesn’t falter. 

You snort, “Afraid so.” 

“In that case, I will work on being more artful.” They sit up, finally removing their cheek from your hand, and clap their hands together once. The move reminds you of an out-of-touch teacher, excitedly trying to pump up students. Faintly, you wonder if Tabaeus was in the learning profession at some point, but shake the thought away. 

“Alright, let’s focus on this,” you say as you point to the computer screen, where listings of houses are still waiting to be dissected. “Instead of perfecting your seduction of a blood bag.”

At once, Tabaeus’s eyes widen, the determined set of their lips curling into a pout. “I apologized for that!” 

A doubtful hum escapes you, which only intensifies Tabaeus’s pout. Without thinking, you lay your hand on their head, gently stroking along their hair. The action startles Tabaeus at first, but they soon relax into it. Their eyes flutter shut and, subtly, you feel them nuzzle their head against your palm. 

“Yes, you apologized, but you’re also a super powerful, preternatural creature of the night that should know better.” Your fingers flex in Tabaeus’s hair, tightening in a gentle way. As you experimentally tug, a pitiful sound escapes Tabaeus. The chair creaks as you shift to lean over them. You’re not sure if it’s the sound or if it’s Tabaeus’s own senses that prompt the vampire to open their eyes. 

Their eyes widen, seeing your face so close to theirs. If they were capable of blushing, you’re certain redness would flood their cheeks. Your voice dips low and soft, and you whisper, “Forgive me if I hold it over your head forever.” 

A whine escapes Tabaeus, their attention completely on you as they weakly nod in understanding. In return, you grin and tug on their hair a little harder than before. Another, almost imperceptible, sound leaves their throat. You notice their chest is rising and falling a little heavier than before and their hands are curled into the fabric of their sweats. 

Tabaeus is a temptation, you finally decide. And you’re fairly certain there’s no enthralling happening on the vampire’s part. Well, unless they got much better at controlling the power in the last twenty-four hours, which you decide you shouldn’t entirely discount.

With a final tug of their hair and a boop of your fingertip on their nose, you abruptly turn back to what you were doing. You can feel Tabaeus’s dazed look on you. It takes a few blinks until the vampire realizes nothing more is going to happen.

You say no more about it as you guide the conversation into needs and wants for a new home.

To Tabaeus’s credit, they manage to give input with minimal pouting. 

[meiizumi]

sorry followers, i'm going to curse you guys to see longer posts about my new hyperfixation: Ancient Yaoi VNs

Anyways, lately I've been trying really hard to find as much information as possible about this lost yaoi game. It was cancelled but I'm dying to know what the game could have looked like and why it could've been canned.

It's called "Torus Zero" or "0-TORUS" or "トーラス・ゼロ" and it was being developed by CORE, known for titles like Messiah and Fanatica. I can't vouch for if those games are good; my opinion is that they look extremely camp and representative of the gothic horror fad in early-mid 2000s anime. Art was done by CARNELIAN, who tumblr users might know as the one who illustrated the original "let's take ibuprofen together" pink girl. She was also known for other visual novels by Orbit, aka CORE's parent brand. Orbit had a bunch of sub-brands for different kinds of visual novels and CORE was their branch for BL. Of all of Orbit's games, the most known one might be Yami to Boushi to Hon no Tabibito, which got an anime adaptation. The silver haired dude in the above photo is named Arya and he appears in that game.

The plot of this was supposed to be that the blue haired dude, Riku, wakes up with no memories in the alleys of "March City" or "三月都市" (at some point this was changed to "Full Moon City" or "満月都市"). He learns that he is a human who is in a world where humans shouldn't exist. All the other characters are nonhuman mythical creatures or animal-people, I think. I don't know. Then he ends up working as cleaning staff at a brothel that hosts male prostitutes. How and why did he end up here? What are the mysteries behind the city and the reason for his existence?

As far as my low Japanese level can see, news of its existence dates back as far as 2002. B's Log magazine, a japanese magazine that provides information on games targeted at female gamers, featured Torus Zero on their second ever issue released in summer of 2002.

There are two versions of an official Torus Zero website on the Wayback Machine. Part of it was because Orbit's entire website went through a renovation but it appears that at some point in development they majorly overhauled this game. It turned from a ADV + simulation game to an ADV + SRPG. They even lowered the age rating from 18+ to "all ages", and this change came with an apology (?) letter from Miss CARNELIAN herself that was linked on the webpage. Part of me thinks this might have been CARNELIAN's passion project. It's a shame it didn't come into fruition even though I don't think it would've aged well at all like most Yaoi from the early 2000s. As a fan of her art though I would've at least liked to see her vision...

2002 vs. 2006. shoutout to the emo ass platforms

Speaking of which, CARNELIAN recently revealed that she was working on an all new 18+ BL game called "Tokyo Phantasmagoria" or "東京幻燈". Before I knew anything about it though, I saw a teaser on the latest issue of Cool-B (BL game-focused magazine) that she was cooking a new BL project and thought, "Could you imagine if it's Torus Zero. Holy shit". I don't think we are ever going to get this game but I will continue to look at its concept as a part of fujo history. My artifacts from my Yaoi Archaeology research at BL University are coming out pretty well I'd say

[gothhabiba]

I'm so glad to see that post, I've seen quite a few videos going "don't let anyone tell you you're wrong to knit continental" "despite what they say, continental knitting IS also proper knitting!" meanwhile I've never heard anyone say that ever, it's so strange! And then there's people in the comments saying things like 'there's a problematic history to this, I think poc/traditional cultures knit continental and english was seen as more polite and civilized which is why they tried to wipe out continental', implying that throwing is racist, picking is progressist and getting their info from I'm not sure where? There might have been confusion with events from the past century but I'd hardly call Germany a poc culture! And you really don't need to use that kind of language to justify your choice of knitting style regardless?

I love this, everyone please put more yarn arts hot takes in my inbox

To the point--granted, I haven't been in the yarn craft sphere of the internet for very long (I learned knitting, crochet, and needlepoint as a child from my great-grandmother and ever thereafter did them quietly to myself), but I don't see how much controversy there could actually be about this 😅? Everyone's lists of "knitting controversial opinions" "crochet hot takes" &c. has an entry like "it's okay to do things however you want to do them" as if that's not the least controversial thing you could possibly say.

I don't yet know much about the history of hand knitting, but I know that Victorian gentlewomen frequently used an English throwing technique while holding the working needle the way you'd hold a pencil--this technique, called "parlour knitting," was basically used to show off the elegance of the fingers and wrists to prospective suitors, but efficient or ergonomical it was not. So the idea of using one knitting style over another in order to demonstrate social superiority (in this case, to those who had to knit to earn money) is definitely there--but I'm not sure how much relevance this has to-day?

If anything, I've more often heard of continental knitting being aspirational / being cast as automatically faster or more sophisticated or something! Who on earth doesn't think continental knitting is "proper" knitting! Who said this to you!

Is this one of those situations like Goths supposedly caring a whole lot about what music other Goths listened to and whether it was "really" Goth, that I'm just too young to have seen or experienced firsthand? I know that knitting techniques tend to cycle through fads, but who is out here getting angry at people for using one technique over another? Please say psych!

[moonstone27ls]

Just random/unpopular opinion...

So the Owl House will be ending soon.... and I will write my opinion on the finale but this is more of the show in general....

You know what annoys me a little. That even if we cut these three eps in half. Looking back, it’ll be forever known that Disney... a company that says “We love our LGBTQ fans”. They gave a very popular show that was trying to give a good story/and representation to the LGBTQ only 6 episodes(again if you cut the whole hour long eps in half) when THEY decided to cancel it.

But they’re giving Big City Greens 20 whole eps, another season and apparently a movie. Now before someone says “Dude don’t hate on this show”. I’m not, I get it. Its popular/its cute kids love it, in general. Its not about the show in general its about how unfair Disney has been to the Owl House.

Now again not hating on the people from the studio who supported Dana Terrace. From what I hear(again hear, I have no legit refs), the staff and such were good to her. And yes I’ve heard rumors that when season 3 was green-lit, besides Disney being Disney. Rumor was they want to blame the COVID era on why they scrapped it, instead of giving it a chance.

I would believe that except Amphibia was made during COVID era and its finale was allowed to have the normal amount of episodes. The Ghost and Molly McGee was made during COVID-era and they were GIVEN 20 episodes and are having their second season air soon. Now Moon Girl and Devil Dino you could argue that. But even Moon Girl got more than 6 eps for her first season. BIG CITY GREENS was also here and its been saved. Again I’m not trashing these shows.

I still like Disney, I love Amphibia, I love Moon Girl (Lunella is both adorable and likeable), Molly McGee’s show is good(haven’t had time to catch up), Big City Greens... depends on eps. Not the point, the point is it feels like from day one the Disney big wigs want to say they care but when push came to shove they pushed Owl House under the bus. 

Why? To save bucks for this multimillion dollar company? To save face in Florida? I honestly don’t know. But its gonna forever bother me that the Owl House wasn’t given a fair shake. And I will forever blame Disney. And in addition Disney is to a degree a monster. Just the company as a whole, I’m not gonna touch on the problems and complaints. Just... sorry Owl House, sorry Dana Terrace. You had a great show. It was incredibly great and my niece loved it. 

And this won’t mean much from nobody online. But what I’ll miss most was Luz. Granted she’s Dominican and I’m Mexican. It was for the first time in ages, if I can be honest. That I saw a who knew Spanish girl, and had the same interests as me. I didn’t know many Latina/Hispanic girls in my community/or family tree who liked what I liked. They all liked boys, their hair/fashion/makeup... but I was the odd duck who liked manga/music/ anime/mythology. And the other classmate girls went through fads. 

So yes while I learned Luz wasn’t the same ethnicity as me. It just gave a sense of I dunno relief/gratitude that I could see a character who had same tastes as me and like me when I was her age. I struggled in school because I was different. I dunno I can’t just “representation matters”... because I dunno if I’m allowed to say that cause if I’m right Luz was Afro-Latin American? and I’m just Mexican I’m fairly certain I can’t say it. But I dunno its her character that appealed to me. Sorry I’m rambling.

I just wish I could tell Dana Terrace thank you for making Luz and giving a face to me and probably any other kid who’s struggling because we’re the odd ducks. And I wish more could had been done for her.

[absentcaryatid]

Hongjoong's Tender Care

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

The gender neutral reader is embarrassed as the whole household of eight handsome men learns about what Hongjoong and the reader are going to get up to for the first time.

1.8K words, Content note: gender neutral reader, food, the word diet is used but nobody is dieting, laxative and enema mention, anal fingering, anal penetration, “baby” pet name, threatened use of a frying pan in jest

~

Sometimes there were distinct advantages to your job as a live-in housekeeper to eight handsome young men. While still paying off their debt from medical education in various fields, they had the bright idea to pool their resources and live communally at quite a savings. It was Mingi who had first realized their lives would be improved by hiring out household tasks. The others suspected he was just trying to get out of chores, and that was true, but with such busy schedules the idea was sound, so you had entered their lives several years ago and by now they considered you one of their own close-knit group.

The modest pay was offset by a bedroom of your own and meals included. The most difficult task was trying not to fall in love with the whole crew, but discovering one boyfriend among them ended up being just right for you. Life was very good, and never once had you regretted taking the job, until today.

Breakfast had always been the most chaotic part of the day. The men were a mix of boisterous or lethargic depending on who had yet to be caffeinated, and some of the morning people would take a leisurely meal while others overslept regularly only to grab an oatmeal bar and dash. San was one of the latter and despite his haste took the time to place a hand on your back and ask if you were doing okay. The man was perceptive, but you did not think your minor break from routine was something he would have noticed so you suspected Wooyoung had been talking. Running his mouth far too much was the sort of thing he was known for.

Over at the table, Jongho put his newspaper down, took a sip of unsweetened black coffee, and peered over the mug rim at you. “What's this? Are you unwell?”

Great. It was everybody minding your business day. Might as well get the embarrassment over with, you thought. “I was on a clear liquid regimen yesterday and today too.”

Nodding, Jongho recalled, “Oh right, you did not eat with us last night. I wondered about that.”  

Buttering his second toast half, Yunho now took an interest in the conversation. The concern in his voice was clear as he asked, “This isn't some fad diet thing, is it? We can give you the statistics how ineffective and unhealthy it is to meddle with your body's set point range. Tell us whatever your actual health goal is and we can help you work toward that directly, instead.”

You would never have been able to make friends with your employers if they had been the kind of health care providers obsessed with seeing patients as a weight before a person and Yunho's rant reminded you how decent this found family was. “It is nothing like that, Yunho. With my self-esteem, you think I'd fall for the empty promises of diet culture?”

Grinning, he agreed you weren't the type to be taken in. “So what gives?”

Before you could voice the all too personal answer, Yeosang jumped in around another spoonful of rice, “I hear there is going to be an alien abduction today.”

“What?” Glancing around the table, it was clear you were not the only confused one. Jongho had a broad smile and his eyes crinkled with laughter while Yunho merely cocked his head like a curious puppy.

Setting the rice bowl down, Yeosang was surprised. “Come on, you don't know that phrase?” With a sly wink he dropped the bombshell, “Somebody here is prepping for an anal probe from Hongjoong.”

Maybe the special diet was getting to you, but your words came out more frustrated than intended. Then again, you were justifiably thrown by the way your private life was apparently gossip fodder for your home and workplace. “Just how many of you has Wooyoung been telling? I only confided in him because I wanted his help to get the enemas and other prep materials.” Placing your head in your hands as you sank into a kitchen chair, you moaned, “I didn't plan for what Hongjoong and I are finally going to get up to to be family-wide news.”

“And over breakfast no less,” Jongho murmured before clearing his throat and tactfully returning to his reading material.

Yunho's wide eyes transitioned to suppressing a laugh behind a hand and he decided to busy himself with the jelly jar and a third slice of toast.

Yeosang of course was not going to let this juicy material go to waste and he continued poking your buttons once he was certain you were not really mad, just exasperated by the situation. “I am sure Hongjoong will appreciate your level of cleanliness when you are together this afternoon.” Eyeing his fingernails absentmindedly, the commentary concluded, “Hongjoong is very skilled you know. You are in the best of hands.”

Before you could wonder just how Yeosang came by that bit of information about Hongjoong's prowess, another throat clearing came from Jongho's side of the table. “Some of us are trying to digest here.”

You survived the remaining low-volume conversation with Yeosang long enough to send the three breakfasting housemates to their jobs leaving the house almost empty.

It was one of Wooyoung's days off and he finally entered the kitchen once things had quieted down. Appearing in pajamas with the shirt portion only half buttoned, he managed a partially guilty look. “I heard my name bandied about when I was trying to sleep in.”

“That must have been rough,” you responded curtly. “Perhaps you would rather have taken my place and had the contents of your asshole be the breakfast table topic instead?”

“About that,” he hedged, “I should have not done that to you. I am sorry, for real.”

“You work in a pharmacy, Wooyoung! You know all about confidentiality, so hearing you blabbed to San and Yeosang came as a bit of a surprise. Yunho and Jongho now know too.”

Wooyoung smiled, the one where you could hold nothing against him. No matter how much you did not want it to work on you, it did, like always. Seeing this effect, he felt free to joke, “That is alright then, your privacy is still preserved from Mingi and Seonghwa. Not everybody in the house knows.”

You sighed because everybody did know. “Mingi already is aware because I came to him for tips based on all his experience. As for Seonghwa, he must have heard it from one of the guys you told because he crudely whispered something about hoping I would have a good time when Hongjoong popped my cherry later today, before streaking out of the range of my frying pan.”

Wooyoung looked aghast. “I told San in confidence, and that was only because he wondered if I had some plans for the enemas I purchased before leaving work yesterday. I suspect San might have said something to Yeosang because he did not hear it from me. Don't feel bad though. We work in health care. There is nothing to do with bodies that is going to be shocking to us.”

You knew he was right, but still your ego was bruised that your rectum, and who you were going to let up it, was apparently the talk of the household. “Make it up to me with something home-cooked, okay?”

“Already did the shopping for your favorites.”

As loose lipped as Wooyoung was, his heart was always in the right place and you did love him for it. You left him to capably fend for his own meal. His morning tastes were simple anyway and Wooyoung would probably only need a bowl of cereal and fruit. For now, you had more important things to manage. Two enemas on the heels of yesterday's super strength laxative and then you were all Hongjoong's for the first time. Excited was not the word you would use for the upcoming experience, but you were interested in what it would be like after reading up on the topic.

~

So, by that afternoon, the time had finally come. Hongjoong had left instructions to strip off your lower half and await his arrival. You had expected he would want you fully nude but if he found the unblinking stare of your Totoro t-shirt too distracting he could always take it off you. Besides, he would be seeing far more of your back than front anyway.

When he finally entered the room, Hongjoong was all business and got right to the point. “I am going to start by fingering you, the lube might be a little cold.”

Yep, he was definitely right about that, no “might” about it. Perhaps the chill was intentional as your mind was preoccupied by that sensation before you even realized his gloved hand had already been replaced by something larger than you had imagined, and more insistent.  

The pressure became painful and you squeezed your arm as you lay on one side. You could get through this, countless people all over the planet did this sort of thing daily, and you knew you were in the best of hands with Hongjoong's tender care.

“Breathe through it, that will make it easier.” Encouraging words from your boyfriend helped you relax somewhat. “You are doing so good for me, baby. Just a little bit more. Hongjoong is almost done.” Finally the pressure ended and Hongjoong slid his tool out while Mingi beamed and offered further comfort as he rubbed your shoulders. “You made it through your first sigmoidoscopy like a champ. I am so proud of you!”

“Thanks for your assistance, Nurse Song.” Hongjoong, or rather “Doctor Kim” while he was at work, nodded to his assistant Mingi as he took off his own gloves. “I managed to find coverage for the rest of your shift. Your next assignment is to take the remaining time to care for our favorite patient.” Despite the surgical mask, Hongjoong's smile was evident as he delivered the welcome news to your boyfriend. After the senior's exit, Mingi began to prep the room for the next patient while you dressed again. On your reappearance, he offered a gentle embrace.

While normally you would not have hesitated to be enveloped by your sweetheart, today all you felt like was heading back home to recover. When Hongjoong gave you the okay after writing up your clean bill of health, you wanted nothing more than to settle in at Mingi's side for some shows. First order of business though was to get some solid food back into you courtesy of the simple but nourishing meal expertly prepared by Wooyoung, who was also going to handle dinner for the group tonight in your stead.  

It turned out the television watching did not last long as you quickly started falling asleep in your boyfriend's arms after such a stressful day. If you ever needed another medical test of this intensity, it would again be at the hands of your friends, making certain to have Mingi at your side to get you through it in the best possible circumstances.

~

Sex ed note: Although enemas are mentioned in this story because they are part of preparations for a sigmoidoscopy, they are not recommended for sexual activity.

~

General Masterlist

Partial Masterlist by Trope

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: In The Dream House

Author: Dennis Cooper

Rating: 1/5 stars

First of all, how the fuck did I manage to put this book down so many times? What was I thinking?

It's been said many times before but the central idea -- that all the people who hate on YA often hate on it for reasons that are actually similar to those that motivate YA's popularity -- is something that I've noticed but that I've never quite been able to square with my intuitions. I've never actually read a YA novel or anything like it (I'm a lot more interested in the adult fiction that comes out of YA), and I've seen a lot of people hate on YA on the grounds that YA fails to do certain things I wouldn't expect people to have in mind in judging YA. But it never seemed to me like a mistake for YA to do those things; in fact, they all seemed like good things to do.

What I didn't know was that I'm in the tiny minority that was actually writing YA at a time when the industry was in its "golden age." And now we're in a post-golden age of YA, and all the things I like about YA are no longer new and innovative and just kind of a natural way of doing things, and instead it's a sort of retro novelty that isn't actually all that interesting.

It makes a certain amount of sense that YA as an idea, YA as an industry, has entered a period of stagnation; the whole "teen fiction" thing was really a fad that didn't really have that many deep roots. The YA books that people remember and like are often those that had something to do with being young or being at a certain age, and that's not always the best kind of theme to work with, or the best kind of book -- in fact, even those books that got a lot of people excited early on often became much less compelling once the novelty wore off.

The best YA books are those that treat the fact that the reader is in that position, the fact that we have something in common with the kids we're reading about (although of course this isn't true of all YA, which is full of characters from the wrong demographic that we don't relate to), without ever lapsing into the kind of generic "you are a teen and that is a very scary and exciting thing to be" stuff that people don't actually do.

There's really not that much of this in the older books, because when we're teenagers it's still "normal" to be very anxious about whether it is possible to still be living in the same world that we live in and make progress in it. At some point, we have to realize that the way we see the world isn't the correct way, and that's scary, but it's nothing compared to the fear that we really have no way of knowing who we are, what kind of life we can make or have made for us (or if we are already making such a life for ourselves), and what kind of world is around us.

In The Dream House is one of the rare good YA books in which this particular tension actually comes to the surface and the book is not just a generic "teenager and other teenagers" book, but a book whose subject -- the conflict between adolescence and its adult trappings -- is actually really relevant to us as teenagers. And it isn't even something that is tantalizingly near-at-hand. In fact, this topic just barely fits the "teen fiction" box -- it is one more step removed from the central topic of teen fiction, and the characters are not themselves teenagers, and the protagonist's relationship with adult life doesn't play a central role in the plot. (The protagonist does have a job and a girlfriend, but we learn those things a page in and no one seems to care about them very much. In any case, if we imagine our own teenage years as an adult version of the plot, this wouldn't really be a book aimed at us, and would be merely a book about the protagonist being confused by his own life.)

If you really care about teenagers, there's a ton to be gained from looking into what "adulthood" is or could be, especially when you're living your own teenage life in such an ordinary way. The "you are a teenager and that is very scary" stuff is almost never relevant to real life. If you've lived more than a few years at a time when you were a teenager in some way, you've probably had your "adulthood" or your "teenhood" or both or neither in some form or other, but there's a reason people don't feel it important to make some sort of point in the plot about it. That kind of focus does not arise in the context of life where it actually happens -- it's not a part of everyday experience; it's not something you really have to deal with in everyday situations. "You are a teenage writer who does not quite fit in with your friends" is the sort of thing that is really important and interesting to think about and talk about and write about, while "you are a teenager who can't find a job" is just boring and not something that we have to think about every day.

The difference between something like In the Dream House and the YA books I actually like is that In The Dream House is about being a teenager, but the way the story is told is actually fun, even though we know it's being told in a way we know we can't actually go through -- even though the world it presents is superficial in a way that is very familiar and therefore reliable. The Giver, for example, presents its world in a deeply "adult" style (think "the voice of On Your Mark magazine") that seems to the children on the streets to be a very strange and dangerous thing. But even though the book presents this danger as real, it's actually a book with a very strong sense of fun that is not just an adult style, but a child style, aimed at those of us for whom it really does feel like fun. In the book, the things that are really fun are the sort of things that a kid could never enjoy, because the world is so rich and so real that those sorts of pleasures aren't child things.

Now that I think about it, In the Dream House feels to me like a parody of the genre and its conventions. I'm a grown-up man, not a teenager, and many of the things about YA books I like don't work for me when I read them. The main characters are sort of like me; the main characters' boyfriends are sort of like me; etc. In the Dream House doesn't even pretend to be about our lives, or to be an honest representation of our lives -- it is basically just an attempt to present the world to young adult readers in a generic, adult-ey sort of way.

I want to read a book that plays with things that are really hard or impossible, and in fact cannot be played with, as hard as they are, because it really can't happen, it really

[kelyon]

I posted 13,511 times in 2022

That's 1,145 more posts than 2021!

721 posts created (5%)

12,790 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@astrellium

@dingdongyouarewrong

@deliriumsdelight7

@barclaysbianca

@wayamy27narf

I tagged 1,434 of my posts in 2022

#dark mistress - 898 posts

#tmi tuesday - 622 posts

#tonight!! - 153 posts

#live wire - 73 posts

#rumbelle - 35 posts

#on a wednesday - 32 posts

#soon - 16 posts

#nephila - 13 posts

#tmi tuesday reblog - 12 posts

#rumbelle fic - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#a turning point in my life was the first time i looked up the weather report just so i'd be able to keep up with conversations around me

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Live Wire Prologue: Being A Ghost

Belle is an electricity ghost haunting the house where she died.  Read on AO3

The thing no one tells you about being a ghost is how much energy it takes. That’s why most people don’t do it when they die. If they try shortly after death, they often only show up as brief flashes that are see-through and hard to recognize as human. The ones that stick around usually have some almighty grudge or a score to settle. A lot of hauntings are about the search for justice, or at least compassion. 

Once you summon enough strength to appear to the living, there’s no controlling it. You become formless, sometimes thoughtless. Not even a soul anymore, just a force so powerful that most living people can only perceive you as something evil. Sweet old grandmothers who just want to check in on their descendants have to tune in to raw, primal rage in order to cross the veil. When they do, they often end up scaring the pants off of the very family they wanted to comfort. 

It’s kind of sad, being a ghost.

****

What remained of Belle French had the opposite problem of most other ghosts. She was full of energy. Several thousand volts of it. 

At the time of Belle’s death, electricity had been new. Everyone was pretty sure it was just a fad. It would burn itself out in a few years. But they couldn’t deny that Mr. Edison’s incandescent lamp gave off a brighter and steadier light than gas lamps ever could. So even if it was a folly, at least it was a useful novelty. Maybe it would be worth keeping around. 

Maurice French had believed in the merits of electricity. After seeing the electrical displays at the White City of the Columbia Exhibition in Chicago, he had made his fortune by investing in progress. When he had his new house built in a coastal town in Maine, he insisted that the whole building should be wired for electric lights. The builders were pretty sure that Maurice was crazy. He had already decided that the house should be painted pink and green. But he was paying the builders five thousand dollars. The money was good, so they did what he said. 

Belle had followed in her father’s footsteps with tinkering and inventing. Book learning would only take a person so far, her father said. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to really know what you’re dealing with. Belle was always eager to take something apart and put it back together in order to understand how it worked.

Unfortunately, electric wiring works by having enough power to stop a human heart.

She didn’t remember dying. One day, she had removed a panel of her bedroom wall--with every intention of hammering it back into place when she was done--and had been carefully examining the ceramic tubes that surrounded the copper wires. The tubes were nailed into the wooden wall supports, and the wires went through them in a giant web that went all over the house. At some point in her exploration, there was a flash of light, and a burning smell, and then Belle was looking at her body from inside the wall.

For the first few decades, she was stuck in a limited circuit. Though the house had been built with electricity in mind, most of the bedrooms only had one wall with wires where Belle could exist. The parlor and drawing room downstairs were slightly better set up, with outlets and electric lamps on all four walls. Wires connected the house to the telegraph pole outside, but Belle was never able to get very far. Something tied her to the house.

She could stay inside the wires, but the back of a wall was never very interesting. It was much better to reach out into an electrical device. When she went into lamps, she could see whatever the light bulb saw. Usually it was a motionless view of the floor or a scrap of a table. The inside of a  lampshade was about as interesting as the inside of a wall. The only rooms with bare bulbs--where she could see the whole room--were in the basement and the attic, where no one ever went. 

Her favorite light bulb was over her father’s work table. She spent a lot of time watching him fiddle with his inventions or draw up plans. When he read at night in his study, she went into that bulb. From over his shoulder, she caught fragments of words from books and the newspaper.

Being with her father was the only time Belle missed being alive. When she saw a screwdriver roll off a table, she was never able to pick it up for him, or even tell him where it was when he started looking for it. She would try to get his attention by flickering the light, but he would just twist the light bulb and look annoyed. When he read, she tried to make the bulb a little brighter, a little warmer on cold nights. She imagined she was standing behind him or sitting at his bedside like a guardian. She couldn’t do anything for him, but maybe she could let him know he wasn’t alone. 

She didn’t see him die. Over the decades, her father grew older and more frail. He spent more time at home, then in his room, then in his bed. A nurse lived in the house. She served him meals and saw to his needs. Belle heard the tense conversations between the nurse and the doctors and her father. Then one day, some young men in white came to the house. They carried him down the stairs and set him into a wheelchair. They took him away and he never came back. 

If he had died at home, could they have seen each other again? Just for a moment? Could he have stayed behind, like her? Could she have gone with him to whatever fate awaits souls that don’t become ghosts?

She would never find out. 

It’s pretty sad, being a ghost.

****

 After her father died, Belle faded into the walls for a while. People came into the house, but they weren’t worth watching. Strangers unplugged the lamps, switched off and on the overhead lights as they came and went. Belle felt the surges of power, but they went through her. She didn’t want to be part of it, so she wasn’t. 

New people came in, people she couldn’t bring herself to care about. She only noticed them when they used electricity. The young woman had a device that curled and crimped her short hair. Her husband had a razor that plugged into the wall. They liked to dance together while listening to music on the radio. They liked to make love with the lights on.

Belle watched it all with insulated jealousy. Seeing this couple--so young, so happy, so alive--made her mourn the loss of her own life. She would never make love to anyone. She would never love anyone. She would never know anyone. Ever. 

She would never travel and see all the places she had read about in her books. She would never hold a book in her hands again. She could hear and see, but she would never taste, or smell. She would never be anything other than an observer of the living.

She measured time by the currents that ran through her. The most sudden change was the day the icebox in the kitchen was replaced by a refrigerator. It drew more power than everything else in the house put together. The man called in men in overalls to install a new circuit breaker. He was doing well, it seemed. He had all kinds of plans to fill the house with new “appliances.”

More appliances gave Belle more areas to explore. The oven and stove, the various mixers and blenders in the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator was interesting, because it was always changing. The people who lived in her house took food out of the refrigerator all day, and often put new foods in. When they kept the door open and pondered what they wanted to eat, it was the longest look Belle ever got at their faces. 

The machines for washing and drying laundry quickly became her favorites. She liked the sensations they produced. Rhythmic thumping, rapid spinning--they made her feel physical. It was almost like dancing, like feeling her own feet pounding on the cement basement floor. It was almost like having a body.

There were children in her house now. The not-so-young-anymore couple bought small lights to shine on them while they slept. It was to protect against the fear of monsters. Belle was the closest thing to a monster in this house and she spent all night looking over them. They weren’t afraid.

 Sometimes the children amused themselves by playing with the lights. Chubby fingers pushed the heavy buttons on and off again and again. To Belle, it almost felt like they were inviting her into their game. It was the sort of thing a child would believe, wasn’t it? These children might well think that electricity was really just an invisible woman who wanted to be friends with them.    

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24 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

#4

Dark Mistress 4: Tradition

Baelfire goes through a typical market day.

Read on AO3

Baelfire walked away from the awful-smelling gong farmers and towards the town. He had sold a bucket of night soil and gotten a silver penny in return. Now that the worst, dirtiest chore of the day was over, he felt a little lighter. The burden on his back was gone, and he and Papa were one penny closer to building up their herd of sheep.

Next he would go to the Widow Glun. She was an old woman whose husband had died fighting ogres when the war first started. Since she didn’t have any family to support her, she’d earned her living by running a dame school. When Baelfire was little, he had gone to her house every day to learn letters and numbers and anything else she would teach. Other children had paid their way with apples and eggs and loaves of fresh bread. Mama and Papa never had much to spare, but Widow Glun had taught him anyway, out of charity. 

She never let him forget that it was charity. 

Now that he was grown, he and Papa would regularly stop by the school to give his old teacher extras they didn’t have before. Today it was a collection of oak galls that she could grind up to make ink. Papa called it kindness, but Baelfire thought of the transaction as paying a debt. An act of honor. It proved they weren’t beggars. It proved they weren’t worthless. It proved that they were better than what people always thought of them.

Widow Glun was just leaving her house when he came by. She had a basket over her elbow, and was locking her door with a big iron key. She always dressed respectably, with leather shoes and her hair covered by a starched wimple. She sniffed, when she saw Baelfire approaching her. He was pretty sure the smell of the shit bucket was gone from him. She was just the sort of person who sniffed all the time. 

“What is it, young man? I’m off to market and there’s no time to dawdle.”

Baelfire fished the round galls out of the pouch on his belt and handed them out to her. “My father says that I should give you these, as a way to pay what I owe you for my education.”

She sniffed again. “And what are you doing with that education? Running around like a ragamuffin? Carrying a chicken around with you like a lunatic?”

He looked down at Chut. The hen was wrapped up in cloth and tied to his waist, being very quiet and good. “She isn’t laying anymore,” he explained. “I’m going to sell her to Yahn the butcher.”

“As it should be,” Widow Glun nodded stiffly. “Those who do not work, shall not eat. It’s as true for animals as it is for people.”

For as long as he could remember, Baelfire had worked as hard as he possibly could. It had never kept him from being hungry. He wanted to say this to his teacher, but knew it wouldn’t be respectful. Even if you weren’t her student, Widow Glun had painful methods for handling disrespect.

 Instead, he kept holding out the oak galls. The old woman didn’t take them in her hands, she didn’t want to touch him. After a moment she held out her elbow so that he could reach her basket. Baelfire let the galls drop into the woven wood. 

“Have a good day, ma’am.”

She didn’t wish him a good day in return. She didn’t say anything. All she did was turn away and shuffle to the market with her nose in the air. 

****

  His last stop of the morning was going to his friend Morraine’s house. Yahn the butcher was her father. The family had a shop in town, where they lived. A butcher sold meat all the time, not just on market day. Their house was new, with strong timbers and whitewashed walls. In the shop part, they even had wooden floors instead of dirt. Baelfire didn’t go in the front door to the shop. He always went around to the back where the family lived. 

Most everyone was outside, Morraine and her mother and the little brothers and sisters. There were so many of them they always seemed to pour outside whenever the weather was nice. Morraine’s mother Tabat even kept a cookfire behind the house and they ate their meals there on a long trestle table. She was cooking now, a big vat of something steaming over the fire. It smelled so good it made Baelfire’s stomach ache. 

It looked like the little ones were supposed to be weeding the garden, but they were spending more time playing in the dirt. Morraine was sitting at the table, trying to feed her youngest sister spoonfuls of mush. When she saw him by the gate, she smiled. 

Morraine had a smile that crooked to the side, instead of being right in the middle of her face. It made the shape of a triangle. No one else had a smile like that, not in the whole village. He smiled back at her.

“Hi, Baelfire!” she called, inviting him in. 

Tabat looked up from her stewpot. She stood up slowly, with one hand resting over her belly. Her blue dress strained around the bump. They said the new baby was supposed to come sometime this winter.

“Morning, lad,” she nodded. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, even though the fried bread felt like it had been a thousand years ago. 

“Oh good, then I can fix you up with some lunch!”

Before Baelfire could say anything, Morraine’s mother had placed a full bowl in his hands and set him down at the table with a spoon.

Morraine giggled, but he knew she wasn’t laughing at him. 

“Actually, ma’am, I’m here to speak to Yahn,” he said.

See the full post

25 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

#3

Kelyon’s For Your Consideration

Hello, Rumbellers!

TEA Time is fast approaching, and I would like to throw my hat into the ring. In order of recency, my fics are:

Begging On His Bended Knees My RSS fic. Gold goes to a dominatrix, who just so happens to be the tenant he’s had a crush on for months. This fic could be nominated for Best BDSM or Best Woobie!Rum

Presents My Rumbelle Christmas in July fic. After Belle walks in on the Dark One in a compromising position, he begins to treat her differently. This could be nominated for Best Kink, Best Dark Castle, or even Best RCIJ 

Her Angel When Lady Belle runs away from her wedding, she is helped by a poor spinner and his son. This fic could be nominated for Best Spinner Rum or Best First Meeting.

Trio: A Golden Cuffs Story Rumpelstiltskin invites his former lover Jefferson over to share his new plaything--Belle. This could be nominated for Best Threesome or Best Kink

Thank you all and happy nominating!

31 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#2

Dracula: Dresses up in Jonathan's clothes so it looks like Jonathan is going around town.

Johnathan:

84 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay. So…. I’m seeing a lot of stuff on my dash about the 25th of May, with references to Discworld. As you’re like, THE person who convinced me to add them to Mt. To-Be-Read, I have to ask: what’s the significance?

I'm making this ask public because I want to inform everyone who needs to know.

The Glorious Revolution of the 25th of May is an in-universe event depicted in the book Night Watch, which is one of the Sam Vimes/City Watch/Ankh-Morpork books. (It might have been the first Watch book I ever read, which I do not recommend. It's a time-travel book, so a lot of the characters that are familiar to Vimes in one timeline are just kind of taken for granted, and if you don't know who they are already it's just a slog.)

If you've ever seen a "describe the plot of a Discworld book badly" post, Night Watch is the one where it's like "The plot of Les Miserables but told from Javert's POV." There's a lot of plot and politics in this book but the main theme is the past--and the future.

That's what I love about this book in particular. It starts on the day when Vimes' wife is going into labor with their first child. It also happens to be the anniversary of a short-lived rebellion in the city, which resulted in a "battle" between the revolutionaries and the Law where a lot of the revolutionaries died. Magical shit happens, and Vimes is now back in the city just before the battle. He ends up being in charge of a precinct of the Watch where he comes face to face with everyone that was there 30 years ago. He gets to see young versions of people who are now middle-aged, living versions of people who are now dead, and--most importantly--his younger self. So just before Sam Vimes is about to become a father, he has to train himself to be the man he wants to be now.

There's a lot else in this book. The lilacs are significant because that's the badge the revolutionaries pin to their shirts so they know friend from foe in the battle. The whole thing with the barricade that expands street by street to take up half of the city is pretty funny. This book is also where you get some quotes about police brutality, how "keeping the peace" means not doing violence against citizens. The zombie who dies at the battle and every year spends the anniversary resting in what should be his grave. The moral choices Vimes has to make, thinking of both his newborn son and his idealistic younger self.

Love it.

And because it's one of the few Discworld books that actually has a real date, it's become a holiday for fans. So we wear the lilac, and sing the song, and remember the people we're not singing it with.

95 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[the-pen-is-mighty-and-so-are-you]

Words, words, Words! - from wp blog, 29/02/2020

…as goes the infamous Hamlet quote, sort of. Tis the theme of both this blog post and, it seems, my life.

Oh hello, by the way, my dear visitor. Thought I'd gone for good, eh? Took up and left with my tea and biscuits? Well... there are no more biscuits left, I'm afraid. They're full of empty calories, you know. Help yourself to a square of some hefty dark chocolate. There. Don't you feel like such an adult? So mature... sipping green tea and indulging on chocolate that costs MORE than a quid. No no don't go-

Sorry. I had a diet revelation, realised that feeling tired and crap correlated with how well I was eating. Am I on one of those fad diets? No, not really. Just looked up the balanced diet thing on the NHS website. They teach you that stuff in school but by the time you're this age it's a faded vague mantra of "five a day" in the back of your head. So, I went on the website and I learned - get this - that you need to eat at least FIVE vegetables or fruit a day.

Yeah, I know, I groaned too. How am I gonna do that? But, actually, two tablespoons of dried fruit counts as one, a reasonably digestible amount, so chuck that on a bowl of Crunchy Nut. A couple of vegetables in your lunch, a couple for your dinner, and a piece of fruit as a snack and BOOM suddenly your digestive system works VERY well.

Sorry, you've zoned out, haven't you? Anyway, I do feel so much better now. I eat more, but I eat healthy. Not all the time of course, that's not human. So, if I tell you I secretly do have Lidl's waffles in the cupboard, shall I toast them and cover them in Nutella and make us a wee snack? Yes, sounds like a plan.

So, while you're letting that sugary cotton wool dissolve in your mouth, allow me to say more words... words, words. Sorry, I had to reference the title to make sure you remembered the topic.

I fricking love words. I love how they mediate everything, how I can pour the deepest recesses of my being into something written and it can be expressed and seen. I love how I feel when I write, too: it's like speaking to a god, or something. I can see why the Romans believed in Muses, because how, why else could I feel so compelled by an art form?

Poetic prose aside, I also love the things that contain words - languages. Ugh, can't get enough of them. I love how by learning a language you can learn all sorts about a culture, about the people, about how their tongues and mouths shape the words they speak. There's so many more sounds out there besides English.

In French, I learned that there's a way of talking where you blend sounds together so it's like a relaxed-mouthed song, fluid, constant and most natural when filled with euh's. Words are the flowing river, euh's are the river's banks to keep the conversation on track and natural. You get to a point in French where once you know the grammar and core vocabulary, you can understand a lot of the rest of the language. Except for when you can't, of course.

In Latin, I learned that a lot of English words and a lot of French words come from it. I learned that in comparison every other language's grammar, to generalise, is easier. I think I know how to spell better because of Latin. Learning a dead language also connected me to a dead society, and connected me more to my passion of history (but mainly classics). I also like reading inscriptions out loud and wondering how they were spoken. Are the v's said like v's or w's? An ongoing debate. It's irrelevant, anyway, because the native speakers are dead and we, the learners, are alive, so we can make our own rules.

I should probably delete that last sentence, scholars might burn me at the stake for it.

Ancient Greek gave me a taste for different alphabets - and then I was suddenly on a journey, because Ancient Greek didn't quite click, wasn't quite relevant enough (because Latin is?). But I wanted a code to crack, something hidden, something that looked completely different from the Roman alphabet, something not taught at my school.

I tried Chinese, except not really. Learning all those complex characters seemed a bit too much for fifteen, sixteen-year-old me, so I learned the one for 'beauty' and the one for 'love' and then moved on.

I tried Russian, learned all 33 letters of the alphabet, doodled vocabulary artistically on a page and felt satisfied. I remember a word sounding like 'zoloto', but can't remember the meaning. I think it's something random, like grape or goose. But I couldn't see myself visiting Russia, so I left it after a couple of video tutorials.

My friend J was learning Japanese, I remember, and I did consider that, but at the time the alphabets ("There's two of them? No thanks.") seemed far too complex, and I knew they used Chinese characters which were also too complex, and also Japanese was super trendy at this point in time so it was a bit too mainstream for sixteen-year-old me. Where's nearby? Ahah! Korea!

That's not actually how it happened - I had no clue about the geography of that part of the world, for starters. I'd only ever seen a map of Japan isolated on its own page, so I had no idea who its neighbours were. Actually, a few years ago, my mum's friends from South Korea visited, and that planted the seeds for my future romance with the language. That was the initial Tinder viewing.

Except I'd completely forgotten about the whole experience. I'd rejected the Tinder profile and let it go. The words 'Korea' and 'Korean' didn't connect to anything I knew, so they didn't stick at first. But then I watched a few documentaries, and then I was down one of those internet rabbit holes. I became more interested, and somewhere down the line, I became fascinated, and then somehow it became three years of language passion.

Korean taught me that brains are amazing and can learn new systems of writing and speaking, if you give it the chance, if you have the incentive and interest. I learned how to shape new sounds, how to perform Korean mannerisms, how to be polite and respectful in that culture, what that culture is. I also began to understand words in K-pop songs, and not just the English ones, which is goddamn satisfying even to this day (although nowadays my brain gets confused and can't always tell which language they're speaking).

Now I'm learning Japanese at university, and again the wonder of the brain has been proven to me again. With it, I've found that for each language, there's a different mindset. When I speak Japanese or Korean or sometimes French to myself, I take on a whole new personality - it's like the people I write in my stories. With each new language there's a new language baby inside my head, slowly developing, learning about the world around it in a new way with new words.

It all comes back to words. Words connect me to culture. Words connect me to my characters and stories. Words connect me to people.

That's why my next project is Thai - part of it is an ego thing, admittedly, visitor. I seem to have a 'thing' for languages that look completely different to my native alphabet. I must collect them all, just like Thanos in the picture. But it's also completely different sound-wise, unlike Japanese and Korean which don't have many of their own syllables, and I'm fascinated every time I hear it. It's so interesting listening to a language and not knowing anything at all about it, not even knowing where the words or sentences start or end. It's also a culture I don't know much about, either - I didn't absorb much at three years old when I visited Thailand with Mum. I can't wait to go on the language journey all over again, or rather rollercoaster, with the rush of all the puzzle pieces clicking together, of the noticeable growth, of the sheer amazement at the world when I can finally read what my boyfriend is texting, or understand at least one word when he speaks Thai.

But before then - Japanese. And Korean. And my own fucking language! Jeez, there's so much to learn and absorb and develop, so much character development to be had, but it all takes time and loyalty.

I'm sorry if I have not been all that loyal to this blog, and you, visitor. But you see, sometimes there's just a LOT. Too much. You know? And then I don't know what to focus on, and then... you know? Yeah. You know. Words, words, words.

Anyway, to summarise, I suggest you learn one word from a foreign language, right now. Doesn't matter how, or what, or how long - google it. And then just put that word in your head, hold it, even if it's only for a moment; think about how many different ways of thinking about the world there are. Mind-blowing, right? I go through that every time I study Japanese! (Which, ahem, probably isn't as often as it should be)

Yes, of course you can have another waffle. Sorry visitor, that was a bit of a ramble, but I just have so many thoughts and sometimes in different languages and I just wish I had someone to talk to who knew all the languages I'm learning and- yeah, the Nutella's just over there, with the knife still sticking upright out of it. Sorry, the handle's a bit sticky now. Sorry? I should stop apologising on my own blog? Sorry, I'll try- oh no, I mean, so- no, I mean sorry- sorry! Sorry...

Words, words, words. Have a good week, visitor.

[twinkletwinklenebula]

28

I didn't think I'd come back to one of my most visited forms of social media over 10 years later. What brought me back is the nostalgia felt of having this space to blog my thoughts and emotions during the most difficult times of my life. I realized that healthy habits need to be consistent and writing is an outlet that will continue to be a crucial part of my life for growth and processing my emotions. The only difference is that I choose to be anonymous this time.

It's been a little over 2 weeks since I've turned 28. As I started to reflect, I've learned a lot in my 20's but I don't want to spend the last 2 years making the same mistakes or worrying about the future.

Each year carried a personal milestone and life lesson, there's a difference between reading articles with the same advice and actually experiencing and learning these lessons personally.

Here are my 7 life lessons:

20: Change happens from within

I was in my third year of college and felt like I hit rock bottom. I've been struggling with depression and anxiety since starting college and managed to put on 100 lbs within the first two years as I looked to food and binge eating to cope and avoid the emotions I didn't want to process. While I was far into my engineering program, it really wasn't for me. There was this constant pressure and uncertainty of wanting to finish this program that worsened my anxiety, I had to make a decision.

During the fall semester, I took business courses to transfer to the College of Business in hopes Finance or Accounting would work out (not to mention the parental pressure of graduating as soon as possible and to commit to a program). It was my first turning point as I finally listened to what I wanted rather than what I felt my parents or peers thought was best for me. I also managed to see a dietician to start my weight loss journey as I wanted to commit to a healthy life style, not just a fad diet I found on the internet. Eight months later, I entered 21 about mid-way through my weight loss journey.

21: Confidence in yourself and BEING yourself is attractive

Feeling more energized and comfortable in my body from the weight loss, I started going out again, caught up with friends and even felt comfortable being in group photos. I got into the Finance program in college and started making new friends but it wasn't long until my thoughts and anxieties started to bring out new insecurities. Because of the timing of the weight loss and the new "confidence" gained through my journey, I started to fear that I'd lose friendships or "fitting in" if I put on weight again. As a result, I picked up on unhealthy habits to keep the weight down and threw off my own menstrual cycle and body's natural hunger cues. What I didn't realize was that I also started to be myself around people again because I felt comfortable going out - which was a big change from wanting to be invisible everywhere I went. The only person that would have rejected myself if I gained weight again was me.

22: Heartbreak happens but you cannot force someone to love you

After my four year relationship ended, I tried everything I could to save the relationship. Tried to change myself, told him I would work on any thing I may have done to ruin the relationship - I blamed myself for everything. I believed that we could make things work and that I was the problem. In reality, we just wanted different things and carried different values. All my insecurities I judged myself for had nothing to do with the break up. After processing all the hurt and anger, my perception changed and even respected him more as a person for his honesty. Break ups are not easy for both parties but we knew it wasn't going to work in the end. I just didn't want to accept that.

23: Therapy doesn't make you any less of a person

After I graduated college, the first thing I wanted to do was look into a therapy program. Not just behavioral therapy but one that would help address these unhealthy patterns and negative thoughts that I would constantly believe and live through. After a few intake visits with several psychologists, I finally committed to a CBT program specifically aimed to address issues with acceptance and commitment. Much of my anxieties and unhealthy patterns revolved around trying to be in control of everything and finding ways to prepare for the worse if something did go wrong. I started to learn techniques to diffuse from my emotions and thoughts such as mindfulness and daily body scans. I'm proud to say five years later, I've seen much growth since my first intake appointment even if I'm still seeing my doctor.

Therapy has helped me learn to process my emotions in a way that works for me. It does not forfeit your independence nor does it make you any less of a person for wanting to develop better life skills that work for you.

24: Find a balance between saving money and enjoying life

When I was 24, I was still living at home and loved the advantage of living rent free and debt free. However, my parents always had a mentality of saving money for retirement and emergencies - I didn't want to spend any of it. It was depressing seeing my friends travel, experience new places and shop for all the things they wanted yet I was too scared to enjoy or let loose. It wasn't until I finally pulled the trigger to take a trip to Japan (quite impulsively) but I enjoyed every moment with absolutely no regrets. Upon returning, the first thing on my mind was that I wanted to go back and travel to new countries and see the world beyond the pictures I always scroll through. The money spent on this trip was worth every penny and I also learned that I wouldn't want to do all this walking and traveling when I'm too old to even enjoy it. From there, I started to budget for trips and other purchases I wanted in life. Life is too short to live the same day twice right?

25: Perfection doesn't exist

I'll get back to this one later.... (no pun intended)

26: It's OK to take a break (and you also lose your parents insurance)

I turned 26 during the pandemic and was also laid off from my job because they no longer needed my role since our team had to work remotely. Honestly, it felt like I lost part of my identity not having a routine and I felt like a complete failure that I didn't have a job. However, I took this time to re-evaluate my sense of self and the hobbies and parts of myself that I abandoned when I spent those extra hours working. It took a while for me to get used to having this "break" but I appreciated taking the time to let myself reflect on what I really wanted to do with my life and to process the emotions I felt when I first lost my job.

27: Slow down

[sublimegardeninternet]

How to Build Your Own Beauty Business

Outward appeal depends on the individual preference spectator and today the viewer is the web. To be sensible, selling magnificence items, administrations or even counsel might be more straightforward than ever in history now that you can get approval on Instagram. I mean even a youngster can become a web sensation for beginning a recent fad or selling an item.

Need to know the key to showcase your items or administrations? You wouldn't get it for anything. Openness!

Envision you are one of the magnificent marking organizations. You have an item or administration that objectives magnificence for example. At this moment you are tackling a few unfortunate people's issues and they are searching for your business. Such countless individuals need hair items to recharge the deficiency of hair. Salon in Lucknow So what do they do? They look for items that tackle that issue. You need to focus on these individuals and purposefully be found by them.

You can do this in more ways than one.

Online Entertainment

Online Entertainment is your smartest option for openness in this excursion. Inescapable structure a presence on the stages where individuals burn through a large portion of their days will do you equity. Magnificence is a visual field so you would need to discuss that with pictures and recordings however much as could reasonably be expected. Individuals need to perceive how your items look on another person before they can trust your business. Individuals need to see consistency in their business to draw in with you. Individuals need to feel associated with some importance of what they do or sell and what they care about.

Google Business

In the event that you have a business, you need to ensure you are on Google My Business. Google is a good book for individuals that search for an answer rapidly. At the point when someone has an issue and needs your administration, you need to come up in their pursuit. You need to likewise ensure anything your magnificence administration is staying pertinent to what a looking through the soul is searching for.

Site

This prompts a few specialized things that simply make your business all the more impressive. You will require a site. A site will be your paradise for promoting on the web. Promoting a site will be more precarious however truly possible. Things to get your site the right targets start with best practices.

Search engine optimization

Site improvement additionally generally known as SEO will be significant for driving expected clients to your site and web-based entertainment. Best SEO rehearses start with catchphrases, for example, the items or administrations you give as well as things that connect with the business. You can constantly learn SEO procedures or have a specialist help you en route. Trying to say this is significant for being on the web.

Email Marketing

Email advertising will be vital to acquiring and keeping potential and existing clients. Individuals browse messages frequently and get energized receiving messages that are pertinent to what they care about. Acquire a client's email and stay in touch with pamphlets, advancements, and limits that will make them return.

Cross Promotions

Cross advancements can be extremely advantageous to promoting and it checks out. On the off chance that you notice, The NBA is a business in itself, yet a decent piece of their income comes from different sources other than passes to watch the game. The NBA supports items like Nike or Adidas and those items sell too much.

Why would that be?

Individuals frequently see one arrangement and search for additional arrangements. Assuming you advance different organizations with your business you benefit in 2 ways.

You give greater believability to taking care of issues with verbal exchange which adds trust between you and your crowd.

You are significantly more ready to construct associations with different organizations that might want to advance your business alongside their business. Salon in Kanpur This gives you a greater amount of a group of people since those clients believe that different organizations and will trust their judgment when they advance your business.

Utilizing strategies can get your magnificence rehearses extraordinary openness as long as you stay with best practices. Video instructional exercises, pictures, realities, and exhortation are your most prominent weapons. Presently you simply have to point and fire, reliably.

You need to make sure to focus on your crowd as precisely as could be expected. Not here for judgment but rather in the event that you were selling facial hair oil, I question your crowd would be ladies beyond 40 years old. So, you need to ensure your items focus on the right socioeconomics generally.

[mineofilms]

Pumping Bullshit

This Blog is gonna be a little different than some of the other subjects I write about. I haven’t really written much about fitness as of late. My interest level in it as a subject to write about isn’t very focused or positive. I will try to stay on topic here… However, I will be jumping from some psychology here and some industry focused stuff, mainly on Multi-Level Marketing (MLM).

This blog will be filled with opinions from my knowledge and direct experience in the field of both fitness training and working with MLM companies over the years. I will have a take that may trigger some, mainly those that blindly follow “fitness personalities,” believe every word they say and that they can say/do no wrong. I will also show some positive support to these same “fitness personalities.” So, if one is overly hypersensitive to things like this you may want to pass this blog right on by…

Fitness personality Calum Von Moger, an Australian fitness personality, best known for his portrayal of Arnold Schwarzenegger in the 2018 film “Bigger.” Over the years Calum has been a fitness celebrity of sorts. It is hard to say if he is a real celebrity or not. As the fitness world is a Hollywood type situation, or more accurate the porno industry; but only in their little circles of the fitness industry and the people that follow that blindly.

In the real world, most people wouldn’t know who this guy is and why others believe him to be a big deal at all. I too once followed the man and was very positive about the things he would post on social media. That has ended, obviously… As I write this Calum is just healing up from a spinal surgery he had to undertake due to jumping out of a window, high on recreational drugs and causing harm to himself. I am not going to go back and forth with the; “How did this happen:” and what not. The guy clearly has issues. It is a sad story, about a sad person, posing to be something he is not. A strong, happy, and healthy human-being.

There is way more dark, negative, stuff out there about the man than there is positive, but if one only knows from the fitness world and/or his Instagram one would never really know or look at the man as a very troubled personality and human being…

Notice, I called him a “fitness personality” and not a “professional bodybuilder.” We see more reality TV style Mentality in the fitness world more now than ever before. Being a professional isn’t nearly as profitable as being “a reality star” in 2022. Nor was it back in 2010 when Rich Piana started making a name for himself on YouTube. That is what the fitness industry is now. Reality TV. Every fitness person now has a podcast, has something to say, usually negative, to draw up some heat on them so they can get more clicks/views to take to the next fitness company to get their next paycheck sponsorship. It’s almost like professional wrestling but with way less talent. You have all these companies out there selling supplements, clothing lines and online coaching. I have written many blogs about how fake the fitness world actually is. Everything from the people to the supplements and online coaching fads. The fake fitness models, some don’t even train, just look good, throw on some leggings and a sports bra, take their pics, make their posts, cash their checks or now cash-out their cashapps…

It has gotten to a point that I have removed most of the fitness personality types from my social media. I am just no longer interested to hear what these people have to say about Health, Life, Happiness and Fitness anymore. Some years back it was funny, entertaining and if I could get a neat new workout out of it, great. Those days has since vanished. When you are disabled and you learn about the real world ramifications of what being disabled is and how limited you are due to your disability, then have a nonmedical professional or professional of any kind, tell you; “here is some free advice about your condition…”

First, no advice from a fitness personality is free. It’s all a sale’s pitch. Everything done is to get you to purchase their products/packages, get some success (if any) and then buy more. It’s all about the reoccurring billing. I could spend hours and thousands of words here explaining what companies like this do. Some of the best examples of fake fitness companies are: Herbalife, AdvoCare, V Shred, Beachbody, It Works! These are, what they call, Network Marketing or Multi-Level Marketing (MLM), or Pyramid Marketing. We all know that word Pyramid Scheme very well…

MLM is a controversial marketing strategy for the sale of products or services where the revenue of the sales is derived from a non-salaried workforce selling the company's products or services, while the earnings of the participants are derived from a pyramid-shaped or binary compensation commission system. The more you sell, the more you get paid, but the more your boss takes from you as well. Most bosses don’t even sell anymore because they make enough off other’s sales as part of the pyramid. That is the goal… To get someone to produce to a point they can then train their own sales staff and just sit back and collect commissions from their sales. A major point is to try and get your friends/family to purchase into this system. Friends/Family are more likely to help you but also taking their money is no problem to the sales companies.

I don’t know… I have a problem with that. You should too…

Here is a good video on the subject: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg84UW4F6rU This video is for V Shred specifically, but you can apply this to any of the companies I have mentioned. If you are serious about fitness do not invest your money into these systems, products, especially the product lines. If you learn anything here, it is never buy supplements from companies like this. You are basically tempting fate with your Health. Hey, I wasn’t a diabetic till after I started taking supplements that had “proprietary formula” written all over that some bitch… That is just a fancy way to tell people “they do not have to tell you what is in this stuff and the FDA doesn’t bug us about it either.”

Yeah… Sounds legit… Thanks Coach…

Coach – Dummied down word to describe a personal trainer with the barebones education, knowledge, experience to be training anyone other than a beginner; because they themselves are a beginner. They may or may not be certified or even technically educated in any way related to health, fitness, nutrition and CPR.

Online fitness companies like this are some of the best at describing the level of bullshit, woke, misinformation, car salesperson mentality you will ever see on the internet. It’s a goddamn template formula and it works. Works for the company to make them money while you the customer are filled with empty promises, placebo pills and training workouts that defy common sense, logic and even science. I am so glad I got out of the bodybuilding/powerfliting/fitness/coaching scene as a job/lifestyle.

This literally sucked the life out of me. All I wanted to do was be like Mickey from Rocky and just call people bums while they sweated their fat away… I wanted to train people because I couldn’t be a professional athlete myself. I wanted to be in the mix as much as I could be, so I went to be a trainer and all I learned was how to be a lying, cheating salesperson of nonsensical woke mentality…

I did this for nearly two years before I gave it up for good. This was one of the better choices I ever made... I stopped looking up to these guys/gals as heroes during this time, hell before this time. Probably around when Rich Piana died, did I start seeing these guys/gals for what they are, frauds, liars, cheaters, manipulators. False prophets… The fitness world has to be one of the hideous fashion shows I have ever been apart of. These people have narcissistic tendencies to a new level of granger.

One of the few things that stands out about them to me is their incredibly inflated self-belief in themselves that is based on almost nothing provable other than their word for it. They believe their own bullshit like the karate guy next door who punches air 10-feet away from their opponents and somehow knocks people over. It is downright delusional behavior. That concept right there should have people running for the hills. It’s almost predatory in a sense because these people look for the ignorant to pitch their ideas, products, packages to.

I am not saying all people into fitness are like this. I am not saying all people that work in fitness are like this. I am just saying I have met a lot that are. I am not even saying Rich or Calum is like this. I am simply stating what I have noticed over the years more times than not. I know and have worked with some amazing people in fitness. I have also waited outside in the parking lot for others. I have empathy here for Calum and what he has had to go through and will have to endure to get better. I am not gonna bet on it but I still feel for the guy. All I am saying is; as I do feel bad for what has happened with him. It doesn't surprise me at all. Actually, in a joking sort of whey, one could see this coming. It really shouldn't be a surprise that these fitness celebrities have "these kinds of problems" in their life. The ending to a fitness personality’s life and career usually ends the same way, tragically…

These kinds of problems, as in, drugs, Mental Health issues, shady business practices. Come on, really? To be a bodybuilder/powerlifter at this level one has to be on that edge of sanity an insanity.

Look what these people go through, look what they do to their bodies. Their lives, their loved ones. More horror stories than happy endings... Change my mind will you! You probably can’t… I have seen it firsthand myself.

I understand when the Internet Troll wants to attack lifters, fitness personalities for their drug use, be it narcotics or performance enhancing drugs (PEDs), but to always point to the needle isn't really an argument anymore. I mean if you really wanna discuss it, it will come up and it does have its part to play, but think about what those chems actually do. They make everything bigger, larger, more grandioso. This also includes mental stability. If one has Mental Health issues already, any drugs, be it roids, test, weed, bipolar meds, alcohol; it will exacerbate the condition more times than not.

Go Ahead Change My Mind I’ll Wait!

What you see specifically here is a man that has serious Mental Health issues. These issues were there before, maybe not at the extreme level it is now, but they-were-there. People do not just lose their shit overnight or lose their shit one time in band camp and did some blow. No... These things happen over many years of abuse. Be it drug-related, alcohol, or other mental stresses that life provides.

Because the man is a physical Adonis we have more reserved judgments about this because, you, I, most, cannot duplicate those results specifically. There are a lot of drugs these lifters use to attain their physique. No doubt about it, just that isn’t the main/only reason this happens to fitness people. They already have issues, major ones, we just do not see them online all that often. They-are-there…

The use of PEDs, whatever they may be, is a given in all of sports. It’s more focused in physique, bodybuilding, powerlifting and even Cross-Fit because of the direct correlation between PEDs and how it can help the body look and/or perform a certain, specific way in a matter of weeks and/or months.

However, there are plenty of examples where people use these drugs, and do just fine at life, health, fitness, inner/outer love. To simply just blame the chems for all of it is an extremely narrow assessment of why more horror stories like this and bad endings happen over happily ever after endings in the fitness world.

I know people personally involved in the fitness industry that are the greatest and best of us that have ever lived. They do it by example, regardless if they had to cheat to get there, but what is cheating, exactly?

If you mean being extremely successful in life, in monies, business, looks, physique, strength and conditioning... Are there rules in that- that directly say don't do this or its cheating? No, we all cheat… At life, all of us, every single one of us are cheaters at something in life. That cannot be denied…

As I said to begin my dissection here, I get what people are saying, but to simply just use the steroid argument and conversation is over as the only and main example, isn't just incomplete. No, it’s like beating Glass Joe in Round 3 of Mike Tyson's Punch Out on the old NES and telling people you mastered the game. The reality is most people KO Glass Joe in the first or middle to late 2nd round. To play him in the 3rd round, one should quit and start over lol or never play Mike Tyson’s Punch Out ever again because you suck...

There is more to it than just abusing anabolic this, HGH that. So much more… I am not saying the Trolls are wrong or insulting their intelligence by defending PED usage. I am simply saying it’s incomplete and over explaining why it’s incomplete.

Mental Health doesn't care if you care, about anything. Mental Health doesn't care if you are fat, skinny, judged as pretty or ugly. Mental Health doesn't care whether one is emo, country or metalhead. Mental Health doesn't care about your passions or care about your romantic life. It certainly gives zero fucks about your children and/or the next generation to absorb the pain and not know how to deal with it.

The point of this is, just this, Mental Health does not care what you care about or care that you are able to care at all. People do believe that if they attain their wants, hopes and dreams that they will be happy. I'd love to see the actual evidence that suggests this is at play as a real thing and not just another Instagram fitness model post about dreams coming true or she was a fierce creature in the Universe walking alone. Just sayin’… I am a nut for the accuracy of data.

No... I am writing a well thought-out blog about why bodybuilders, powerlifters, physique competitors and crossfiters are so mentally unbalanced to a cloud nine degree of misery is if one already has severe Mental Health issues, being a professional at the elite level just makes those problems more grandioso. The average troll will say it’s all the HGH and Steroids, they are not wrong, but to be right, they need to be more specific than just using the pink elephant as the main, and in most cases, only thing to point to.

No, Mental Health is POWERFUL AF… What does the data say? Just check for yourself what the YouTuber’s says every few weeks. There are plenty of fitness podcasts out there chopped edited to make it sound like these people know what the fuck they are talking about. I have been editing videos for 23 years at this point and if I go unscripted just ranting away I’d have to edit every few words just so I do not sound like I am bumbling over my own words. I am not a professional at being in front of a camera trying to make videos with talking points. These fitness personalities aren’t professionals either. They are literally learning on the job. Just because they do not have video production degrees doesn’t mean they don’t know what they are talking about either. However, it does make me want to look into what they say more clearly because they could be and probably are just bullshitting to get more clicks/views and take that data to their bosses to get paid. I am not fascinated by the appeal anymore of what your everyday fitness personality has to say on their podcast. I lift now just so I can stay looking young for as long as my body holds out and this disease allows me to live…

If Mental Health wants to take you down, you can bet you are going down. All you can do is minimize the damage. If one is this unhappy they jump out a window. Simply doing things that change a life isn't enough. One just takes those problems onward. Take losing drastic amounts of weight, fast, as an example… In this case, it was being thicker and now one is less thick. That journey can literally change the wiring of a human’s brain, both in a good way and not so good way. The same goes for the steroid abuser. Not all steroid users are abusers but the data tends to show that most cannot not abuse it either. If someone is not seeking counseling and has feelings of hurting themselves directly or indirectly, I am guilty of indirectly; I'd highly recommend that they do get some therapy. I am in therapy. Most real successful people are and if they say they are not, they are lying.

Remember, Mental Health Doesn't Care About You. You Do Though...

Pumping Bullshit by David-Angelo Mineo 5/16/2022 2,989 Words

[kendrixtermina]

Simple Tritype Finding Redux

So remember how a while ago I made that post about how to find your tritype, which was somewhat popular, but also kind of rambly and theoretical? 

Apparently the peeps at the Big Hormone Podcast had an episode which did sort  of the same thing of looking at the “setting” of each individual center, but they expressed it much more concisely & punchy & much more useful

So, for those who don’t have time to listen to 2 hour of pod-cast (which honestly, includes me too, I should be doing something else rn), here’s a summary: 

Heart Center

2 fix

basically more warm compared to other ppl with the same core type 

casually touchy-feely, way more likely to hug, put their arms on you etc. (this can be very obvious in cultures where that’s less usual - ie, easier to spot on a North American man than a French woman)

4 fix

more guarded compared to others of same core type

stresses their tastes & preferences (ie, rant about music they really don’t like)

suspicious of hype & overly popular things - some tedecy to be the contrarian voice in a conversation

3 fix

especially if it’s the 2nd fix this can show as being more positive and/or better at self-motivating and a tendency to follow trends or fads

but it’s just as likely to show as just less obvious emotional coloration, or just adaptiveness/ social perceptiveness, or even ‘icyness’ - so you’ll often arrive at this by principle of exclusion.

2 Methods/ ‘cheats’ you can use here: 

Typing someone else: 

Apparently useful question here is to look at how people introduce themselves, cause the heart fixes represent different parts of identity & it’s all about what someone stresses. For example, the people who will open with something relationship-related (”Hi I’m soandso, I’m a parent”, “I’m a wife”) are probably 2-fixes. If they start out mentioning their job or some kind of accomplishment (”I’m a doctor”, ”I climbed X mountain recently”) they probably have a 3 fix. Whereas a person with 4 fix will not reference anything external but mention their tastes, interests and sentiments. (eg, “Hi, I’m Soandso, I like reading, writing & nerd stuff”, “I live on a farm where I keep peacocks.”)

Typing yourself: 

Think of this as a ‘should’ that you feel. A person with a fix doesn’t run around all day helping people (especially if their core type is something very different), but they might feel that they should be a source of help. Someone with a 4 fix might feel they ‘should’ be suspicious of anything that’s too hyped and popular, while someone with a 3 fix might kick themselves for not mentioning some archievement to their friends when this might have impressed them. 

Head Center

Basically, just look at what they do when they don’t know something. Like, imagine for example that your little sister has a question and you don’t already know the answer. Do you immediately ask someone, google it or point her to a trusted source? Six. Do you first speculate based on your preexisting knowledge & maybe then google it if you’re not confident? Five. Do you list multiple ideas for what the answer might be or where to find the info? Seven. 

6 fix

Checks external sources first, thinks second, may then corroborate the conclusion before accepting it

try not just to get the answer, but a sense of who thinks what. May warn you against other PoVs - this can lead to bringing morals/ politics into it even when it seems out of place. 

Other people need to learn to look at sources and ‘cui bono’ questions at some point, six fix ppl often do this immediately & pay attention to sources from the first. 

At best you get 15 year olds with scarily excellent bullshit detectors, at worst, middle aged ppl whose opinions are entirely copypasted. 

5 fix

Reverse of 6: Always speculates first based on whatever knowledge they already have, and checks sources second, if at all. Internal resources dominate.  (eg if the question is about tigers, they might say ”It’s like this in cats, so it might be similar. It fits with how Tigers live in jungles, too”)

Might just make a theory & throw it out there to see what happens

Might bring up a dark/macabre/disturbing topic without realizing. (6: “Are you defending cocaine addicts?” 7: ””Please don’t talk about murder on the table, we’re eating!”)

Tend to look for a point of distinction or underlying principle

7 fix

List multiple ideas or facts rapidfire 

while the other two sit down to launch into a treatise, the 7 either keeps the engagement level high by focussing on the more exciting parts, or just moves on. 

Cares less about cohesion, hanging on to a point or arriving  at a final conclusion so there can be a ‘kaleidoscopic’, multi-perspective  quality to the answer

Similar to how the 6 might think about the moral implications, the 7 thinks about the entertainment value & novelty . In the example with the little sister, the 7 fix person would say stuff that the child will find exciting. 

Body Center

This where it might be useful to listen to the podcast yourself cause they talked a lot about body language cues that would be much more apparent if you were a core body type or at least a sensor in the mbti. I have no sense of this so I can only relate the parts that I understood

8 fix

gives whatever the core type is a bolder, more unapologetic vibe

tend to “just do stuff” & more confortable doing it without mapping out all the consequences. Think the one person who says which restaurant to go to when no one wants to make a decision or gets bogged down on discussing pros and cons

More likely to get physical. If you’re a withdrawn type & it’s your last fix you might not actually throw down, but you might feel like you want/should if you could get away with it. Or you might just curse like a sailor.

9 fix

generally softer compared to others with same core type. They might be the most assertive & energetic 7w8 or 3w4, but still want to hear the other sides’ point. 

have an accepting, nonjudgy vibe

listens/connects more, much more able to be convinced

1 fix

sharper, precise, discerning vibe - feel satisfaction or repulsion in their body as ‘alignment’ or lack thereof

speaks a bit like a teacher or art critic with the intention to improve things

persistent, especially about complaints. Might bring up the thing that bothers them over & over again; may come off picky

I also warmly recomend the tritype roast podcast. 

I did indeed get roasted, and so can you~

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

Five years ago, the women on this site who treated me like trash over loving Labyrinth and shipping Jareth/Sarah were almost always obliviously consuming Radfem propaganda, or were out and out Radfems/Terfs themselves.

They were the types of people who casually threw the word “pedophile” around against grown women who shipped an adult Sarah with Jareth, aka literally one of the most popular ships for women in fandom for 30 years.

Pretty much invariably, these women had serious sex-negative anxieties, which included a severe paranoia about any and all kink and fetish, and porn in general. I saw a lot of shocking, fear-mongering propaganda surrounding sexual expression. Pretty much invariably, their method of approach involved immediate personal shock-value attacks on anyone they perceived to be “bad.”

Today, you can look at the way some people react to other popular so-called “problematic” ships and recognize the same toxic, fear-mongering rhetoric coming from women who consider themselves regular, trans-inclusive feminists. Sometimes it even manifests in the words of very well-meaning people (including myself here), who feel the need to talk about specific issues that pertain to their own experiences of trauma and oppression.

The people who shit on Labyrinth often seem to not really be able to comprehend that the Goblin King, like the film itself, is canonically a representation of a teen girl’s psyche, a soup of fears and anxieties and desires and dreams. He’s not a literal human adult preying on a literal child, and to read the film that way seriously undermines the entire point of the film. 

When I (and people of many fandoms) say “This is fiction, calm down,” I’m not just saying it’s not real so it cant hurt you and you can’t criticize me. I’m trying to call attention to what fiction actually is - artistic representations of feelings and experiences. The Goblin King is Sarah’s fiction. Therefore, he can be anything she or any woman who identifies with her wants him to be, including her lover when she’s grown and ready for such a thing.

I once took an alarming dive into Beetlejuice fandom to see what content was there (the cartoon was a favorite when I was little). Chillingly, what you’ll find is an extremely wounded fanbase, with a sharp divide between the older women who had long been shipping BJ/Lydia because of their love for the cartoon series (and whom were previously the vast majority of the Beetlejuice fandom), and a massive amount of young people riding the wave of the musical fad who had decided that the entire old school Beetlejuice fandom was populated by literal pedophiles. 

I saw death threats. Suicide baiting. Constant, constant toxic discourse. It did not matter how the BJ/Lydia fandom dealt with any particular issues that would exist in their ship, in fact I’m certain that the people abusing them cared very little to even consider if they were trying to handle it at all. The only thing that mattered was that they were disgusting subhuman scum asking for abuse. If you have at any time reblogged recent Beetlejuice fan art or content from fans of the musical, you have more than likely been engaging positively with the content of someone participating in toxic fandom behavior.

Nobody is really sticking up for them, either, as far as I saw. It’s really hard to imagine how painful it must be to have such a large group of people explode into into your relatively private fandom space to tell you that you are evil, vile, and deserve constant abuse, and also you are no longer allowed into the fandom space to engage in it’s content. But I think there’s something very alarming indeed about this happening specifically to the BJ fandom, and I’ll explain why. 

The pop-culture characterization of Beetlejuice, which is heavily influenced by the cartoon series to be clear, has always in my mind been a vaguely ageless being who matches with the psychological maturity of whatever age Lydia is supposed to be. He’s more or less like an imaginary friend, a manifestation of Lydia’s psyche. In fact, I would argue that i think most of us who grew up with the cartoon or it’s subsequent merchandizing before the musical ever existed probably internalized the idea as BJ and Lydia as this ageless, salt-and-pepper-shaker couple beloved by the goth community, similar to Gomez and Morticia. In each version of canon he may be a creepy ghost in the literal sense, but any adult who is capable of identifying literary tropes (even just subconciously) would read cartoon!BJ as an artistic representation of a socially awkward outcast girl’s inner world. Lydia’s darker dispositions and interests, which alienate her from most others, are freely accepted and embraced by her spooky magical friend. BJ/Lydia in the cartoon were depicted as best friends, but to my memory there was always an underlying sense that they had secret feelings for each other, which I identified easily even as a small child. In fact, their dynamic and behavior perfectly reflected the psychological development of the show’s target demographic. They are best friends who get into adventures and learning experiences together, who have delicate feelings for each other but lack any true adult romantic/sexual understanding to acknowledge those feelings, let alone pursue them.

Though I haven’t seen the Musical yet, I’ve read the wiki and I would argue that it embodies this exact same concept even more so for it’s own version of the characters, in that Beetlejuice specifically exists to help Lydia process her mother’s death.

This is not a complicated thing to recognize and comprehend whatsoever. In fact, it looks downright blatant. It’s also a clear indicator of what BJ/Lydia means to the women who have long loved it. It was a story about a spooky wierd girl being loved and accepted and understood for who she was, and it gave them a sense of solidarity. It makes perfect sense why those women would stick with those characters, and create a safe little space for themselves to and imagine their beloved characters growing and having adult lives and experiencing adult drama, in just the same ways that the women of the Labyrinth fandom do. That’s all these women were doing. And now, they can’t do it without facing intense verbal violence. That safe space is poisoned now.

Having grown up with the cartoon as one of my favorites and been around goth subculture stuff for decades, I was actually shocked and squicked at the original Beetlejuice film’s narrative once I actually saw it, because it was extremely divorced from what these two characters had evolved into for goth subculture and what they meant to me. It’s not telling the same story, and is in fact about the Maitland's specifically. In pretty much exactly the same way two different versions of Little Red Riding Hood can be extremely different from each other, the film is a different animal. While I imagine that the film version has been at the heart of a lot of this confused fear-mongering around all other versions of the characters, I would no more judge different adaptations of these characters any more than I would condemn a version of Little Red in which Red and the Wolf are best friends or lovers just because the very first iteration of LRRH was about protecting yourself from predators.

I would even argue that the people who have engaged in Anti-shipper behavior over BJ/Lydia are in intense denial over the fact that BJ being interested in Lydia, either as blatant predatory behavior a la the film or on a peer level as in the cartoon (and musical?) is an inextricable part of canon. Beetlejuice was always attracted to Lydia, and it was not always cute or amusing. Beetlejuice was not always a beloved buddy character, an in fact was originally written as a gross scumbag. That’s just what he was. Even people engaging with him now by writing OC girlfriends for him (as stand-ins for the salt-and-pepper-shaker space Lydia used to take up, because obviously that was part of the core fun of the characters), or just loving him as a character, are erasing parts of his character’s history in order to do so. They are actively refusing to be held responsible for being fans of new version of him despite the fact that he engaged in overt predatory behavior in the original film. In fact, I would venture to say that they are actively erasing the fact that Musical Beetliejuice tried to marry a teenager and as far as I’m aware, seemed to like the idea (because he’s probably a fucking figment of her imagination but go off I guess). The only reason they can have a version of this character who could be perceived as “buddy” material is because...the cartoon had an impact on our pop cultural perception of what the character and his dynamic with Lydia is. 

We can have a version of the Big Bad Wolf who’s a creepy monster. We can have a version who’s sweet and lovable. We can have a version that lives in the middle. We can have a version who’s a hybrid between Red and the Wolf (a la Ruby in OUAT). All of these things can exist in the same world, and can even be loved for different reasons by the same people.

I’ve been using Beetlejuice as an example here because it’s kind of perfect for my overall point regarding the toxic ideologies in fandom right now across many different spaces, including ones for progressive and queer media, and how much so many people don’t recognize how deeply they’ve been radicalized into literalist and sex-negative radfem rhetoric, to the point where we aren’t allowed to have difficult, messy explorations of imperfect, flawed humans, and that art is never going to be 100% pure and without flaw in it’s ability to convey what it wants to convey.

This includes the rhetoric I’ve seen across the board, from She-Ra to A:TLA to Star Wars to Lovecraft Country. We don’t talk about the inherent malleable, subjective, or charmingly imperfect nature of fiction any more. Transformation and reclamation are myths in this space. Everything is in rigid categories. It is seemingly very difficult for some of these people to engage with anything that is not able to be clearly labeled as one thing or another (see the inherent transphobic and biphobic elements of the most intense rhetoric). They destroy anything they cannot filter through their ideology. When women act in a way that breaks from their narrative of womanhood (like...not having a vagina), then those women must be condemned instead of understood. Anything that challenges them or makes them uncomfortable is a mortal sin. There is an extraordinary level of both hypocrisy and repressive denial that is underlying the behavior I’m seeing now. Much like toxic Christian conservatism, these people often are discovered engaging in the same behaviors and interests that they condemn behind closed doors (or just out of sheer cognitive dissonance). As an example, one of the people who talked shit to me about Labyrinth was a huge fan of Kill La Kill, which to my knowledge was an anime about a teenage girl in like, superpowered lingere (hence why I stayed the fuck away from that shit myself). Indeed, they even allow themselves plenty of leeway for behavior far worse than they condemn others for, and create support systems for the worst of their own abusers. 

Quite frankly, I’m tired. Instead of talking about theoretical problematic shit, we need to start talking about quantifiable harm. Because as far as I can tell, the most real, immediate, and quantifiable harm done because of anybody’s favorite ships or pieces of media seems to consistently be the kind that’s done to the people who experience verbal violence and abuse and manipulation and suicide baiting and death threats from the people who have a problem.

[amuseoffyre]

Arthur Conan Doyle on Anti-vaxxers

From time to time some champion of the party which is opposed to vaccination comes forward to air his views in the public Press, but these periodical sallies seldom lead to any discussion, as the inherent weakness of their position renders a reply superfluous. When, however, a gentleman of Colonel Wintle's position makes an attack upon what is commonly considered by those most competent to judge to be one of the greatest victories ever won by science over disease, it is high time that some voice should be raised upon the other side. Hobbies and fads are harmless things as a rule, but when a hobby takes the form of encouraging ignorant people to neglect sanitary precautions and to live in a fool's paradise until bitter experience teaches them their mistake, it becomes a positive danger to the community at large. The interests at stake are so vital that an enormous responsibility rests with the men whose notion of progress is to revert to the condition of things which existed in the dark ages before the dawn of medical science.

Colonel Wintle bases his objection to vaccination upon two points: its immorality and its inefficiency or positive harmfulness. Let us consider it under each of these heads, giving the moral question the precedence which is its due. Is it immoral for a Government to adopt a method of procedure which experience has Proved and science has testified to conduce to the health and increased longevity of the population? Is it immoral to inflict a Passing inconvenience upon a child in order to preserve it from a deadly disease? Does the end never justify the means? Would it be immoral to give Colonel Wintle a push in order to save him from being run over by a locomotive? If all these are really immoral, I trust and pray that we may never attain morality. The colonel's reasoning reminds me of nothing so much as that adduced by some divines of the Scottish Church, who protested against the induction of chloroform. "Pain was sent us by Providence," said the worthy ministers, "and it is therefore sinful to abolish it." Colonel Wintle's line of argument is that smallpox has been also sent by Providence and that it becomes immoral to take any steps to neutralise its mischief. When once it has been concisely stated, it needs no further agitation.

In the second place is the mode of treatment a success? It has been before the public for nearly a hundred years, during which time it has been thrashed out periodically in learned societies, argued over in medical journals, examined by statisticians, sifted and tested in every conceivable method, and the result of it all is that among those who are brought in practical contact with disease, there is a unanimity upon the point which is more complete than upon any other medical subject. Homoeopath and allopath, foreigner and Englishman, find here a common ground for agreement. I fear that the testimony of the Southsea ladies which Col. Wintle quotes, or that of the district visitors which he invokes, will hardly counter-balance this consensus of scientific opinion.

The ravages made by smallpox in the days of our ancestors can hardly be realised by the present sanitary and well-vaccinated generation. Macaulay remarks that in the advertisements of the early Georgian era there is hardly ever a missing relative who is not described as "having pock marks upon his face." It was universal, in town and in country, in the cottage and in the palace. Mary, the wife of William the Third, sickened and died of it. Whole tracts of country were decimated. Now-a-days there is many a general practitioner who lives and dies without having ever seen a case. What is the cause of this amazing difference? There is no doubt what the cause appeared to be in the eyes of the men who having had experience of the old system saw the Jennerian practice of inoculation come into vogue. When in 1802 Jenner was awarded £30,000 by a grateful country the gift came from men who could see by force of contrast the value of his discovery.

I am aware that Anti-Vaccinationists endeavour to account for the wonderful decrease of smallpox by supposing that there has been some change in the type of the disease. This is pure assumption, and the facts seem to point in the other direction. Other zymotic diseases have not, as far as we know, modified their characteristics, and smallpox still asserts itself with its ancient virulence whenever sanitary defects, or the prevalence of thinkers of the Colonel Wintle type, favour its development. I have no doubt that our recent small outbreak in Portsmouth would have assumed formidable proportions had it found a congenial uninoculated population upon which to fasten. In the London smallpox hospital nurses, doctors and dressers have been in contact with the sick for more than fifty years, and during that time there is no case on record of nurse, doctor, or dresser catching the disease. They are, of course, periodically vaccinated. How long, I wonder, would the committee of the Anti-Vaccination Society remain in the wards before a case broke out among them?

As to the serious results of vaccination, which Colonel Wintle describes as indescribable, they are to a very large extent imaginary. Of course there are some unhealthy children, the offspring of unhealthy parents, who will fester and go wrong if they are pricked with a pin. It is possible that the district visitors appealed to may find out some such case. They are certainly rare, for in a tolerably large experience (five years in a large hospital, three in a busy practice in Birmingham, and nearly six down here) I have only seen one case, and it soon got well. Some parents have an amusing habit of ascribing anything which happens to their children, from the whooping-cough to a broken leg, to the effects of their vaccination. It is from this class that the anti-vaccinationist party is largely recruited.

In conclusion I would say that the subject is of such importance, ancestors call and our present immunity from small pox so striking, that it would take a very strong case to justify a change. As long as that case is so weak as to need the argument of morality to enforce it I think that the Vaccination Acts are in no great danger of being repealed.

It was Yours faithfully,

A. CONAN DOYLE, M.D., C.M.

Bush Villa, July 14th, 1887(x)

[aperrywilliams]

When The World Breaks You (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader makes a mistake during a case that triggers a lot of thoughts about a series of stressful events in her recent life. Spencer Reid turns out to be one of them.

Word Count: 6538.

Warnings: Mention to stressful events in relationships. Mention to possible alcohol abuse. Unprotected sex. A lot of curses. Angst. Smut. I promise it’s an ‘optimistic’ end.

A/N: For the Secret Fic Swap. An excellent idea from @dontkissthewriter and organized by @imagining-in-the-margins​.

This fic was written for @safertokiss​. Thanks for reading. Feedback is welcomed!

——————–

We all make mistakes in life. It’s written somewhere. They tell you that since childhood. Everybody knows. But when you have to experience it, things are different: it seems nobody remembers and they throw it in your face every time they can. To err is human. Have they already forgotten it?

It’s true, there are situations where a mistake can be much more costly than others. In this line of work it turns out to be so. One misstep could result in the death of innocent people. In my case it was not like that... but it could have been. Hotch's face of disappointment when he looked at me could have killed me down in the same spot, after he himself shot down the unsub almost by the work and grace of the Holy Spirit. I was wrong. I tried myself to save a little girl from the hands of a psychopath using the most reckless strategy that occurred to me at the time. The girl might have died if Hotch didn’t appeared in the right moment.

It wasn't many minutes before my own teammates started to reproach my recklessness.

"How can you did that (Y/N)? You could have had that girl killed!" shouted Emily.

"You should have waited for reinforcements (Y/N). It was obvious you couldn't handle the unsub" Morgan barked.

"(Y/N), lucky you Hotch showed up at that moment..." JJ hissed.

"Your youthful impetus almost got the worst, (Y/N)..." Rossi mused.

"Tomorrow, first hour of the day, I want your report in my desk (Y/N), and we’ll talk about what happened today" was the last sentence of Hotch.

The only one who didn't say anything was Reid. Although his look of frustration was only comparable to Hotch's. Bent on continuing to torture myself, I walked over to where Spencer was, almost forcing him to speak to me.

“I still haven't heard any ‘comments’ from you about what happened in there. Everyone has already given me their opinion". I snapped with a challenging tone. It was the only thing left for me if I didn't want to cry right there. Reid looked at me but said nothing. “Ah, your punishment for me is the silence. Very original Reid, very original”. I left the place by getting into one of the SUV that would take us back to the jet.

The trip back home was silent. I self-relegated in one of the furthest seats. I looked out the window as the jet's wings touched the clouds. I could feel some compassionate glances from my teammates, but I never made eye contact with them. Nor when we get to the bullpen to collect our things. Nor when I quickly got on the elevator to avoid having to share it with anyone.

When I got to my apartment I just wanted to lie down in my bed. Before reaching my mission, all I did was take off my shoes. I fell slumped on the mattress. Only then did I allow myself to cry. In the solitude of my own place. Place not long ago I shared with another person. Person who decided my job was too demanding and didn’t want to pay the price for my absence. Person who was quickly disappointed in me despite having promised his eternal love in front a civil judge in our wedding. Person I believed loved me unconditionally. To be fair, I forgot that too. My love didn't turn out to be unconditional either.

Love is not unconditional. This is a learning for life my dear friends.

As Hotch requested, I was in his office first hour in the morning with my report from the day before. As he read it, I was standing in front of him with my hands crossed on my stomach and staring blankly at the bookshelf behind Hotch's desk.

"So you agree that it was a reckless decision..." Hotch recited.

"Yes sir. It was. Although the purpose was to save the life of an innocent…”. Hotch interrupted my speech.

“(Y/N), indeed that is the goal of this work, but there are rules too. And if you can't follow the rules, you can't do this job either. I hope you understand that” he stated.

"Yes sir…" was my reply.

“Due to the scope of this case, I cannot leave you without some sanction for your conduct. That is why you’ll be suspended for 2 weeks without payment. I need your badge and your gun”.

I was not surprised by the measure. Although I had a secret hope it would only be a reprimand from Hotch. Hopes are shit. I handed over my gun and my badge. I was about to leave the office when Hotch spoke again.

"(Y/N). I understand you have been through a lot in these months, please try to take these days to rest and clear your head” he suggested.

"Yes sir".

Why was I going to argue with him about it? Was it worth telling him that not even a one-month suspension could be enough to me for clear my head?

I went downstairs to my desk. Again without making eye contact with my co-workers. I grabbed my jacket and purse and walked out of the bullpen into the elevator. Before the doors were closed I heard my name.

"(Y/N), wait!". Reid with one of his arms stopped the door and got on the elevator. I looked at him without saying anything. "Where are you going?".

"I think you know where... and why too". I replied now looking at the elevator floor.

"How long?" He asked.

"Two weeks" I replied dryly.

"Oh, I'm sorry". Reid lamented.

"Don’t be sorry. At least I still have my job. For now…”. I assured with a shrug, barely making eye contact with him.

"Do you need something?..." he offered.

“Don't worry about me Reid. I'll be fine". The elevator had reached the subway, opening its doors. I went out and gave him a little warm smile. He did the same. Then the doors closed with him inside. I started walking to the car to get back to my apartment.

It was strange being in my apartment so early. I’m usually one of those who leaves the BAU almost at dusk. At least that's what I had been doing for the last 4 months, after my divorce. Now I was sitting on my couch thinking about what to do in the next two weeks. No idea came to my head. I knew it would be a long two weeks.

The next day I started doing a deep cleaning of the place. It’s not my apartment has been neglected in these months, but there were many things from "my old life" I still had. I started going through boxes with my ex-husband's things: there were clothes, sporting goods he didn’t take with him, books. I also found photographs. The vast common of them I tore up and throwed into a trash can, however, I stopped at my wedding photos. Smiles were everywhere. Many of the photographs with both of us at the altar, others dancing. There was a photo of us with the BAU team at the party. Memories of that moment quickly came to my mind. Precisely after taking that photograph in particular.

After the photographer captured the moment, my husband gave me a sweet peck on my lips and told me he would go and talk with his family a while. I nodded, meanwhile the BAU girls surrounded me laughing next to me and hugging me for the umpteenth time, happy for me.

I could see Spencer walking away towards one of the corners of the garden. I had seen him act strange a few days ago. But particularly on my wedding day we had hardly spoken a word. Which was strange. Spencer was my best friend, my "partner in crime". That's how it had been since I came to the BAU 4 years ago. Taking advantage of the fact I had a moment of freedom, I approached him. He was sitting on one of the benches in the garden. I sat next to him smiling. He looked at me and gave me a smile too.

"Hey... why are you alone around here?" I asked taking his hand.

"I'm enjoying the fresh air and there is less noise here," he replied.

“I know you are not a friend of loud music. I understand you and I share that. I just must say today has been a roller coaster of things. I'm exhausted”. I confessed but I received no reply.

"Spencer?". He looked at me as if trying to tell me something without words. "What is it? Can you tell me...". After a silence that started to become uncomfortable, he resolved to speak.

"You really love him..." he said. I frowned. I didn't know exactly what he meant.

"Well... if I married him it must be for that, right?". I tried to joke to lighten the mood. But Spencer didn't laugh.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. I think I should go…”. He got up from the bench and was going to leave me there with more questions than answers.

"Spencer, wait!... you can't leave like this. Please tell me what's wrong..." I pleaded.

Forcing Spencer to speak at that point must have been one of my biggest mistakes in a long time. How often does your best friend confess he has been in love with you for years on your wedding day?

Only in the movies. The difference is that in the movies the bride runs off with the lover, leaving the groom behind and living happily ever after. It was not my case. Spencer was the one who ran off, alone… while I stood on the bench with tears rolling down my cheeks, a confession and millions of doubts that beginning to fill my mind.

Of course I was in love with my husband. Perhaps a somewhat childish love, but we had known each other for so many years that it was difficult for me to imagine myself otherwise than being married to him, having children, a house and a dog. That was my dream since I was 16 years old.

But things change. My life also changed. I studied Forensic Psychology and fell so in love with my major that I wanted to join the FBI to put what I had learned into real practice. This is how I came to the BAU afterwards. A whole world opened before my eyes. I faced the best and the worst of the world. My innocence faded over time. I was much more aware of what was happening around me. And I was happy with that.

I fell in love with my job too. I also bonded with my co-workers. I started spending more time with Emily, JJ and Penelope both on and off work. But what changed me the most was making friends with Spencer Reid. When we met, the first thing I noticed was his shyness. It seemed adorable to me. As we got to know each other I understood many things about his character, just as he understood many things about me as well.

The jet trips, the talks at the local police stations, the theories about the unsubs were made much more bearable thanks to Spencer. At some point I asked myself if our friendship could be something more. I didn't think it was possible. But the doubts came all the times I had a strong argument with my boyfriend. Arguments that sometimes ended with me leaving the apartment we shared and crashing into Spencer's place crying on his shoulder.

I remembered one of those times. It was a strong discussion. Triggered by my prolonged absence thanks to the cases that kept us traveling all over the country. Like the previous times I ended up in Reid's apartment drowning my sorrows in his chest.

"(Y/N)… can I ask you a question?" I just nodded, still sobbing. "Are you sure you love him?... I mean… maybe I said it wrong... I don't have doubts you love him, but do you think this relationship is working for you?..."

“It has worked so far. It's true… we have our ups and downs, but… I don't know… it's just I wish he could understand what my life is really like…"

"And if he doesn't?... how many more chances will you give him (Y/N)?... don't hurt yourself more, please...".

My memory recalls the way he looked at me. At first I thought it was compassion. ‘Poor woman, in love with a man who doesn't understand her.’ But then I thought I saw something else. A plea? I didn't really know what it was.

Without thinking, I let myself be carried away and wrapped my arms around his neck, crashing my lips on his. A simple impulse that ended with me and Reid making out on his couch. And boy I did enjoy it!. And I'm sure he did too. But we were both cowardly enough to admit it.

After that things were strange between us. Until one day I faced him. I needed to know what his true feelings were. The bastard denied it. He said he only wanted me as a friend, that I deserved to be happy with my boyfriend and that ours was just a good friendship.

I let it go. We returned to our dynamic of good friends. Things seemed to take their normal course. My boyfriend proposed to me, the fights between us disappeared. Thus faded the nights when I came crying to Spencer's apartment. I was feeling happy. Excited. Until that moment in my wedding party, in the garden, when Spencer left me with his confession stabbing my chest.

I didn't want to think about that. I had given him a chance to open up earlier. And he didn’t do it. Spencer fucking Reid kept the silent. And I didn't say anything either. Maybe if I had given him a sign. But it was too late. I had to get on with my life. And that's what I did.

A year of happiness. That was how long my marriage lasted. And not because I haven't tried. I really tried. But Reid was right. Sooner or later the opportunities would no longer be enough. Promises weren't sufficient to keep alive the illusion of life as I had dreamed of as a teenager.

*************

I was worried. It had been 4 days since (Y/N) was suspended and no one had heard from her. I asked Prentiss and she only told me she texted her to know how she was doing and (Y/N) replied with a dry ‘fine’.

Besides being worried, I was upset. No one on the team had bothered to visit (Y/N). Months ago it would have been my mission, but given the circumstances maybe it wasn't a good idea. I was annoyed by the idea she was struggling alone with this situation. It was not fair. None of this was fair.

That she couldn't be happy wasn't fair. And that we couldn't be together was my fault. My silence. I lied when I could have told the truth. There is not a day I don’t regret that.

My second mistake was speaking at the wrong time. I couldn't bear it and in a moment of weakness I confessed my feelings to (Y/N). And it was selfish, I know. A chain of bad decisions I tried to bury over time.

And it seemed time was working. She was happy with her husband, or so I thought. While we tried to return to our friendship routine. Perhaps that is another of the biggest lies in the universe: ours would never be the same. Ours will never be the same again. I didn't find out things were going wrong in her marriage until it was all broken. I could notice some things about her behavior, but she was never going to tell me anything about that part of her life, ever again.

On the sixth day of her suspension, my worry began to overwhelm me. This time I wasn’t the only one who was concerned. Emily and JJ tried to contact (Y/N) but she just didn't answer the phone. Even Hotch had left messages on her voicemail to check her status. None had an answer.

I couldn't sit idly by. What if something had happened to her? Sure she wouldn't want to talk to me, but at least I needed to know she was okay. That afternoon I left the BAU heading to her apartment. Upon arrival, I knocked on the door twice. But I got no answer. Maybe she had gone out to buy something. Or maybe something had happened to her and she couldn't open the door. I hesitated what to do for a while. I paced outside her door until anxiety got the better of me. I still had the spare key to her apartment. I knew it wasn't appropriate, but my concern won. I opened the door and launched to inspect the place.

She was not in the apartment. The place was a bit messy, but it wasn't a mess itself. I found many boxes in the living room, some half packed. They didn't seem to be her things, which partly reassured me. For a second I thought she was moving somewhere else. What made me uneasy was seeing several empty liquor bottles on the kitchen counter. That gave me an idea of where she might be at that specific moment.

I quickly reached (Y/N)'s favorite bar scanning through the crowd until I saw her near the bar counter with a group of men surrounding her. I stepped closer and crossed the circle of testosterone that shrouded (Y/N). Seeing me, she raised up her arms to signal my arrival.

“And here is my favorite genius! Dr. Spencer Reid!" (Y/N) chimed obviously drunk. When I managed to get to her side, she threw her arms over me, almost falling from the tabouret where she was sitting next to the bar. I hold her with my arms, restoring some balance to her. As I spoke to the group of predators still looking at (Y/N).

"Well. The show ended here. You can go to the other side of the bar”. I announced to the marauders who, puffing, broke the circle around (Y/N) dispersing.

“You are a killjoy Reid. You always have been”. Despite her condition she knew exactly how to hit me with her words.

"Let's go. I'll take you home" I stated.

When we left the bar, she stopped and didn't want to keep walking.

"Reid... really, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I came to look for you…" I mumbled.

"You didn't have to... I'm fine, don't you see me? Won-der-ful…" she tried to joke.

"(Y/N)... you're drunk... let me take you home" I insisted.

"Noooo, I don't want to. I'm fine here. Let me…"

"Please come with me". I demanded and grabbed her forearm.

"I don't want to be hurt any more Spencer... leave me alone" she complained.

"I know. But let me help you…"

"You cannot. Nobody can help me. Everyone abandons me and it's my fault...". (Y/N) tried to left my grip.

"Don’t say that. It's not your fault". I hugged her and she stopped struggling but started sobbing into my chest.

We held each other for a moment. The sobs gave way to hiccups. When (Y/N) was calmer, I managed to get her into the car. I drove to her apartment. When I stopped the car, I noticed she had fallen asleep with her head resting on the car window. Carefully, I opened the passenger door and took her in my arms, bridal style. She only let out a groan, but not fully awake. I went upstairs with her to the floor of her apartment, took out the key, opened the door and we went inside.

As gently as I could, I laid her on the bed. I took off her shoes and tucked her with the duvet. Again I heard her sobs.

"Why did it have to be like this?..." she muttered. I didn't know what to answer her.

"It's my fault. I end up ruining everything. I always make mistakes that end up ruining everything…” she cried. I knew it wasn't a good time to talk, but (Y/N) needed to be able to at least sleep in peace.

"No, don’t say that. You better sleep now. Tomorrow we can talk about this".

"You will stay with me?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

"Only if you want me to stay..."

"Please…" she begged.

I took off my shoes and cuddled next to her under the duvet. I wrapped my arms around her body and after a few minutes I felt her breathing much quieter, a sign that she had fallen asleep.

When I woke up next morning, (Y/N) was still sleeping. I knew she would be in that condition for at least a couple of hours, when the light in the room will wake up her and make her feel the hangover in her body. I gently got up and went to the living room. I wondered if it was really wise to stay until she woke up or maybe I should just leave her and go home. I wanted to be able to talk to her, but I wasn't sure if it would be the best time. I laughed at myself after that thought. Is there a better time for us at anything? That didn't exist in our books.

I made myself a coffee and grabbed some of the books from her shelf. I struggled with the urge to explore the things that were inside the boxes scattered around the room. I sat down on the couch and started reading.

A few hours later I heard (Y/N) walking out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, turning on the shower faucets. I got up from the couch and started making coffee again. She was going to need it. I also started making some toast. After a while she came out of the bathroom straight into the bedroom again. A few more minutes passed and she peeked into the kitchen where I was finishing buttering the toast.

"You didn't need to make breakfast..." she remarked, making her presence known. I raised my head to look at her.

"At least you need the coffee..." I suggested as I handed her the mug of coffee.

"It’s true. Thank you". She sat down and after a sip put the coffee on the table.

"How do you feel?"

"The shower helped... but the hangover won't leave me for a good couple of hours," she complained. I put the plate of toast on the table and sat across from her with my own coffee. We fell silent as we drank our coffee and ate our toasts.

When there was no more coffee or toast left, (Y/N) started talking.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night." She mused.

"You don’t have to apologize…". I shook my head.

"Yes. I need to. Although I don't know how you knew I was there, you brought me back safely. Thank you". Her eyes felt into the empty mug.

“It was not a bother to me. I was worried about you (Y/N). In fact, I'm worried about you,” I confessed, looking again at the empty liquor bottles on the kitchen counter. She followed my line of sight and knew exactly what I meant.

“I'm fine Reid… so don't worry. I have accumulated them in all these days. It's not so big deal either" she bragged.

“I don't think you're okay (Y/N). You've avoided calls and messages from the whole team these days…". I stated.

“I just wanted to be peaceful, Reid. As you can see, I’m trying to 'clean up' my life,” (Y/N) assured as she pointed to the boxes scattered around the room.

"You don't have to do that alone..." I implied trying to get into the matter.

"Reid, please… don’t do this. You know I can't let you do this…” she mumbled.

"Why not? Please (Y/N)... why do you want to keep pushing people away from you?".

“Not all people. Only you". Her overabundance of sincerity didn’t surprise me, but at that moment it left me speechless. "Sorry to say it like that, but you can't pretend things are the way they were at the beginning." She was right, but I wasn't ready to lose this fight.

"Will you never forgive me for telling you about my feelings that night at your wedding?" I shouted running one of my hands through my hair.

"Not that. I’ll never forgive you for keeping silent when I asked you what you felt before!" she yelled at me back.

"(Y/N)... I was scared...". I tried to explain.

“I was scared too Reid!... but I had hopes. The hopes you killed at that time," she grumbled taking her head with both hands.

"Do you think it was easy for me?"

"I don’t care. If you had told me maybe I would have cared. I'm not a fucking fortune teller Reid!" She got up from her chair and began pacing the room. We were getting back into this discussion, again.

"I just… I never thought you would do it..." I said defeated.

"What? Get married?... why shouldn't I?". She asked in exasperation.

"Because you didn't love him!!!" I screamed.

"How do you know that? Damn it Reid!"

"Because if you really loved him, you would never have come to my apartment every time you both had an argument! That was never love (Y/N)! It was your dream, but it was never real!"

"What do you know about love?, ah?... are you really going to give me a lecture on something you have no idea? You weren't even able to face me when you made your big reveal. That's not love either Reid"

"Watch your words (Y/N), you have no idea what you're talking about" I warned her.

"Oh no? Enlighten me genius"

I got up quickly from the chair. I took one of her wrists and pulled it towards me. I cupped her cheeks with both hands and bumped my lips to hers. (Y/N) tried to pull away from me for a second, but then she melted into the kiss just like I did at the time. If words weren't enough, I hoped that kiss could help me ‘tell’ her everything I was feeling. When we both run out of air, we pulled away.

“If you didn't always have the compulsion of saying the last word, maybe I would have shown you earlier. But no! Always contradicting (Y/N)! " I muttered panting.

“What the fuck Reid?. Do you think a kiss is enough to silence me?". She pulled away trying to catch her breath and not knowing whether to keep yelling at me or to leave the room.

"No, not with a kiss. I know. Of course it is not enough with you (Y/N). I think I’m just starting with you".

“Where does this dominance come from? Eh Reid? What are you trying to prove?" she asked me defiantly.

"Just shut up (Y/N)... and stop calling me Reid". I protested. How difficult is for this woman to give up in a fight, for God sake!

"Make me... Reid". She challenged me back.

The tension built up over the years seemed to have exploded at that moment. I took her wrists again to attract her to my body, with one of my hands I took her hair and yanked it back to make her look at me.

"Stop it (Y/N). You don't want me to make you" I managed to mutter before collapsing my lips with hers again. This time the kiss was more passionate and extensive. I couldn't keep my hands still, while with one I was still yanking (Y/N)’s hair, the other started to down her back by entangling my fingers in the edge of her shirt. As I put my fingers under the shirt to touch her bare back, I felt a moan from (Y/N). That encouraged me to continue. Releasing my other hand from her hair, I grabbed the other end of her shirt, pulling it, take it off her body and throwing it to the floor. My lips began to search for the sweet spot on her neck that I knew existed and always wanted to explore. When I found it, another groan came from (Y/N)'s mouth. Those moans quickly turned me on. With my hands traveling down her nearly bare back, I paused on the clasp of her bra, pulling it apart and letting it fall to the floor. An exciting sigh left my mouth when I could see her naked half.

(Y/N) looked at me expectantly. Her eyes inviting me to continue, but I started to worry that no words come out of her mouth.

"Is something wrong?... do you want me to stop?"

"What are we doing Spencer...?" she said panting.

“What I think we should have done so long ago. And because of me we couldn't. But if you don't want to, I'll stop”. I assured her as I stroked her cheeks with my knuckles.

"Shit Spencer... I don't want to die without you fucking me once in life at least...". With that she threw herself into my arms and started to unbutton my dress shirt.

"God (Y/N)... you don’t how much I want you." I whispered to her as I dropped my dress shirt to the floor and my hands searched for her bare breasts. My lips and tongue tracing paths on her collarbone. Her arms were around my neck gripping tightly.

“Show me, you fucking coward! Prove you mean it!” she told.

“This time you don’t have to tell me twice…”.

I took her in my arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the mattress, while I undid the clasp on my belt and unbuttoned my pants, letting them fall to the floor. She slipped her sweatpants, exposing her body only in her lace. I laid down next to her, tracing eager paths in her bare skin with my fingers.

"You are so fucking beautiful (Y/N)... you drive me crazy...". I blurted, peppering kisses and sucking one of her nipples. (Y/N) stroked my hair as I keep my mouth attached into her breasts. My hands went down her waist and stopped in her thighs for a while. Then my fingers traveled anxiously across her belly, her hips, and her ass. I looked at her with fire in the eyes and could see how (Y/N) was breathing heavily holding her eyes on me as I slide her panties off, one leg at a time. I put one of her legs over my shoulder and buried my mouth between her legs, nibbling on the skin while I was holding her hip with both hands. (Y/N) couldn't help but arch her back, letting out a deep whine.

"Oh fuck Spencer... shit… please…" she moan not expecting to be coherent in her words. I was decided to go further, so my hands started to slide into her inner thighs. I wanted to explore the depths of her core. Not so gently I put one of my fingers inside her. The moisture I found did nothing but arouse me more. The contact sure caused more stimulation on her and she started to move and buck to feel more depth and friction.

"Please... Spencer... if we are going to do this, I need more...". Her words made me put a second finger. She shuddered on contact again. I couldn't help but bite my lower lip as I looked (Y/N)'s eyes stiff at the sensation running through her body. At the movement of my fingers inside her, (Y/N) was unable to control her own, seeking to deepen the feeling by riding hard on them. I lowering my tongue until reached her folds. I slipped my tongue to catch some of her moisture mixed with my own saliva. A stifled moan from me made (Y/N) tremble at the vibration of my voice running through her body. I put a third finger inside her while my tongue focused on her clit, licking and sucking the exposed nerve.

(Y/N) let out almost a cry bursting with pleasure. I speed up the actions of my fingers and my tongue and I could feel (Y/N) shiver under my touch. I heard her moaning louder as she held on to my hair. I knew she was close to her release because her body trembled at every thrusting of my fingers and slapping of my tongue.

"Oh fuck... I can't... Spencer... please... don't stop... I'm going to cum..." she said frenzy as her nails scratched my shoulders.

"Do it love, cum in my fingers... do it... let me feel how you undone beneath me…" I gasped trying to help her to find her release, while the thrusts of my fingers became more frantic than ever.

"Fuck... Spencer... uhhh, shit!" It was the last she could say before falling hard at her ecstasy. She was trembling completely with her eyes lost on the ceiling. When the spasms stopped, I pulled my fingers out, tasting her arousal in my mouth and looking at her. Her messy hair, the sweat running down her forehead and her eyes full of pleasure. It couldn't have been more pleasing for me.

“I think you need a reward for this so… come here. I need you to fuck me with your cock right now… please…”. (Y/N) demanded still panting.

I just chuckled meanwhile I slipped off my boxers and then placed my hips between her legs lining up my cock at her entrance. My slow entry produced a unison groan in both of us.

"Oh fuck (Y/N)... you're so tight for me..." was the only thing I said before (Y/N) raised her hips without warning to feel me fully in her. A roar tore from my mouth as I grabbed her hips to start moving inside her. The thrusts started slow but intense, accompanied by gasps and sweat. I increased the speed of my thrusts in the next minutes. The desire to feel each other had reached a point of no return for both. The moans mingled with the vocalization of our names only increased arousal in us. I could feel her walls tighten with friction and it drove me madder and louder. She was very close to losing herself in ecstasy. Her body began to tremble, which made me hasten my pace. I put one of my fingers over her clit and traced circular movements on it. The (Y/N)’s moans increased in time and noise.

"Fuck Spencer... Oh yeah, right there. More please… Spencer, harder…”. She exclaimed in ecstasy.

"(Y/N), you feel so good with my cock inside you. Do you like it?, tell me… I want to hear you… use your words…”. I needed to hear her voice.

"Harder Spencer. You are fucking me so good. Please don't stop… I love you. I wanted this so badly… so time ago…”

“This time I'm not going to let you go. Tell me, did he touch you like this?... He kissed you like this?... He fucked you like this?"

"Shit… Spencer, it’s not the time to compare yourself to my ex…" (Y/N) moaned.

“I just want you to realize that I’m better than him. That I have more right to have you than he and any other man. That I’m the only man who could love you like you deserves (Y/N)…"

With those words I could feel how the orgasm hit (Y/N) like a train. She screamed my name one last time before getting lost in her heights. I kept my thrusts knowing I was close. Feeling her walls tighten around my cock was enough for a couple more thrusts and reach my own release. And it was better than I had imagined every time I thought about (Y/N) and what sex with her would be like. God! I could stay like this forever.

Even with our shaky breaths and still inside her I looked (Y/N) directly in the eyes. I needed to know her reaction. I just hoped I didn't find regret in her gaze. That would have been death for me.

She looked at me with a glint in her eyes that I couldn't decipher. Tears? I was terrified. I didn't want to lose (Y/N) again.

"Shit Spencer... where did you learn to fuck like that?" she blurt suddenly. We both started laughing. I assumed it was a rhetorical question, so I only answered with a deep kiss on her lips as I got out of bed in the direction to the bathroom.

I came back with a damp towel to clean up the remains of our recent activities. (Y/N) didn't take her eyes off me but she didn't say a word either. I put the towel on the nightstand and sat on the bed with my back on the backrest.

"Okay, what are you thinking now?" I asked. (Y/N) smiled because she knew exactly that I was going to ask her that question.

“It's just… I find it hard to believe that you really love me. I mean, so much has happened in this time… don't you even have a little doubt going around in your head about this?" she questioned giving me a shy look.

"Not anymore. I had doubts for so long (Y/N), that's why I wasn't able to do anything about it. But I can assure you that there are no more doubts. I love you and I know you love me too. Nonetheless I'm willing to wait for whatever it takes until you're ready. But I’ll never be silent about my feelings for you again. That I can assure you. I promise”. I replied taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

"I'm still broken Spencer...". She remind me pressing her lips together and trying to hold back a sob

“(Y/N). I know and I take full responsibility for that too. But now I don´t care all our past mistakes. I don’t care the past itself. I don’t care if you’re broken now. I want to fix this. I want you. I want to make up to you. I want to make you happy. No matter how long it takes me to accomplish that. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll hold you when you need it, I want to be there when the world breaks you. I’ll fight and support you every time that happens…"

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N) hugged me tight and buried her head on my chest. Then she raised her gaze to look at me and speak.

"Love is not unconditional Spencer... you know that…" she murmured.

"Not by default my love, but we can build it to make it work for us.". She smiled at my words and after giving me an intense kiss she spoke again.

“I hope you’re right. I know we can try to make it work. I love you Spencer”.

“I love you too (Y/N). We are going to make it. I promise".

———————

[happyhealthyandholy]

What A Compliment Can Do.

A simple way to support someone—especially if we don’t know them is by giving them a compliment.  Compliments seem so rare nowadays. It’s almost like people are so focused on themselves and their own problems to acknowledge other people’s successes. A compliment is such an easy task and is something that has a big impact. When a person receives a compliment, they seem to always hold on to it. For me personally, a compliment could flip one of my bad days into a good day.

I feel like being aware and acknowledging that someone is doing well makes a person unselfish and gives momentum for the other person to keep going. For example, a person who has perfected an outfit, did a nice job on a painting, got a promotion at work, received an academic scholarship, or scoring half the points in a baseball game has a reason to feel good about their accomplishments. It is important for people to support each other and build people up especially if they put the time and dedication into it. Even if the task was small. If they took the time, they deserve the praise.

Also, complimenting a person for physical attributes can be nice to acknowledge, but I also think looking past appearance there is so much more to praise in a person. We should focus on complimenting people for how smart, funny, caring, compassionate, determined, and/or courageous they are. People who praise others for looking a certain way (such as weight, height, hair color), will make the person getting praised constantly want to maintain this, and to the extreme: continue to lose weight, try to be taller, dye their hair frequently. It makes a person feel they need to stay that way in order to continue to be praised. How toxic is this mentality? Not to mention the people who get criticism for how they look instead of compliments. It makes them feel bad for not getting certain compliments and they feel like the only way to get them is by changing themselves. In our society, it sadly seems this way. But it is most definitely not true.

If we start complimenting a person based on their actions and how they treat people. We will see a drastic change in the way we see people. If one person starts to see the deeper beauty of personality, we can make it contagious. No more fad diets to be beautiful. No more dying hair to look younger. No more covering acne with loads of foundation. But instead, we can improve ourselves within. By maybe reading, learning from other people, having conversations, and doing more volunteer work. How much more attractive is this? If we compliment people with what they have within, I feel like many more people would be happier.

Let’s start a support system. Let us all be each other’s hype women and men. Complimenting is so much fun when you do it consistently, and it makes the person being complimented feel so good. Don’t get me wrong, any compliment is wonderful! No compliment can be a bad compliment. However, I do believe that if we started to compliment how a person acts/their personality, they will strive to maintain this. And won’t feel the need to change their appearance because they know that they have many great qualities that are within them. With this, hopefully, it will become contagious and everyone will see just how beautiful and unique they are.

-Love All