#and now i have to expose myself to health risks because this one problem that is currently unexplained and very painful

[djuvlipen]

My name is Memory Banda. I am honored and humbled to be here today, as we continue to promote democracy and defend human rights around the world.

I come from Malawi, a country known across Africa as a model of democracy full of noble people who actively participate in the political process.

At the same time, there are still real developmental challenges for Malawi to overcome. One is the situation of girls and women, who are struggling to reach their full potential.

Despite progress on gender equality, girls and women face discrimination in every aspect of life. Girls are more likely to drop out of school, and women have less access to land, credit, markets and jobs. Furthermore, women are under-represented in politics.

I believe that Malawi will neither be able to evolve nor reach its full potential if half of its population is presented with real obstacles to having social, economic, and political mobility.

A unique problem facing young girls is child marriage which, in so many countries, is a telling sign of the devastatingly low status of girls and women in society. Child marriage is a telling sign of the neglect of human rights in Malawi.

Child marriage is not a sideline issue. It affects about 14 million girls every year. One in three girls in the developing world are married by age 18, and one in nine are married by age 15. Some are as young as 10 years old.

Child brides are often exposed to serious health risks, such as premature pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections like HIV and AIDS. Child marriage is also closely linked to low levels of economic development. Girls who marry young are more likely to be poor and stay poor, perpetuating a cycle of poverty for generations.

All of these reasons prove how child marriage is not only a tragedy for young girls in Malawi but also a major obstacle for the country’s development.

In the community I come from, child marriage is equally celebrated just like any other marriage. Child marriage is not considered a human rights violation. Instead, it is viewed as an issue too sensitive and too difficult to confront because it is attached to cultural traditions, beliefs and norms.

But, that is changing. It is changing because we are now seeing girls and women, boys and men, local and national leaders speak out against this harmful practice.

Before I say what more we as a global community can do to end child marriage, let me tell you my story.

My little sister was 11 years-old when she got pregnant and was married off to the man who impregnated her. From that moment, everything changed. That was it; her childhood robbed from her, her dreams and goals shattered.

I have also witnessed my cousins, my family friends, my classmates, the people in my community, all of the girls I grew up with married off. They were taken away from me. There are thousands of girls like my sister who have been married off, their rights violated and futures destroyed.

I had a lot of questions as I was growing up. I asked myself, “why can’t a girl have her own choices? Why should she be a second-class citizen in our own society? Why can’t she just choose on her own?” And, above all, “why can’t this girl speak?” 

I remember thinking of the injustice: what happened to my beautiful, intelligent sister, should never happen to anyone. This conviction motivated me to take action.

At age 13, I began to speak out against child marriages and harmful traditions. I started to promote girls’ education, seeing this as the best solution to protect the girls around me, and myself, from abuse and exploitation. I formed a network of my fellow young girls, called the Foundation for Girls Leadership—a non-profit that promotes equal access to rights, equality, and education for women.

Through my work, I have spoken directly to victims of child marriage. They have told me the hardships, the pain, the abuse, and the traumas they have experienced. They have told me what it was like to live with all the pressures of being a child mother. This is not far away from what my little sister experienced.

Knowing the pain and trauma of young girls subjected to child marriage, I launched an effort to change the Malawi Constitution. Along with a coalition of other activists, I called on the government to raise the legal marriage age in Malawi from 15 to 18. After much debate and many challenges, the parliamentarians voted to change the law, raising the legal marriage age to 18 and enshrining it in the Constitution.

But, there was more work to do. The Constitution had many loopholes that made it easy for people to marry off their daughters despite the legal age because of parental consent. So, I launched a youth-led global campaign to pressure the government to again amend the Constitution.

I organized a petition that received one million signatures of Malawian mothers, fathers, and brothers who agreed in saying “I will not marry off my daughter or sister.” This caught the attention of the First Lady of my country who joined our campaign. Ultimately, we even got support from traditional leaders— the custodians of law—who live in the communities where child marriage is most frequent. They helped by writing a letter to the President, urging the government to amend the Constitution.

In February 2017, the amendment passed and now, the Constitution defines any person below age 18 a child, reinforcing the previous law that raised the legal marriage age from 15 to 18.

Despite these legal victories, I believe that preventing child marriage is a multi-faceted project. It’s about getting girls into school and keeping them there. It’s about ensuring they have access to sexual and reproductive health services. It’s about giving girls economic opportunities and proper training. It’s about changing the way families view the problem.  

Child and forced marriage is an international problem that needs urgent attention. Ultimately, it’s going to take a massive coalition of voices —including girls, boys, parents, religious and community leaders, politicians and the international community—to speak out against this harmful practice of child marriage.

Prioritizing girls and women is one of the most fundamentally sound methods of changing our world for the better. I have learned that encouraging girls and women to help themselves raises living standards for an entire society. Let’s leave no one behind, an empowered and educated girl, becomes an agent of change. 

I firmly believe that it does not matter where one is born; we are all global citizens promised the same rights. And we must join together as one community to protect our fundamental freedoms and to call on world leaders to ensure that we are living in an equal, safe society. 

Thank you.

[dyns33]

This problem about Art and AI scares me and makes me ask myself a lot of questions.

I don't understand how someone can write "a tree" into a search engine, see the image it creates, which may not even look like what they imagined, and proudly say "Wow, I did that !"

And at the same time it is not new. People were already stealing several drawings, to copy them and create a new "original" image. The difference in these shameful thefts was that these people had to draw a bit. Now they only type one sentence.

But there are also 3D printers. Real artists "sculptors" use them, they draw a sketch in the computer, the machine produces what they want, and they expose the result. But is it really their sculpture in the end ?

The script for an Italian film that will soon be released in cinemas was entirely written by an AI. Everyone wonders if the result will be good. And if it's good, is it the first script, or did a human read it and edit it ?

Same for translation. Computers are getting better and better, but there will always be mistakes, lapses, and turns of phrase that they won't think of, because they don't think.

You have to think and have ideas to make Art. Then you have to produce this Art.

This is one of the great debates, in many fields. The idea or the realization, which is more important ?

In science, there are theoreticians and engineers. They must work together to achieve a result, and they win prizes together.

In comics, there is the scriptwriter and the drawer. 

In cinema, the director, the screenwriter, the editor, the actors, the lighting technician, the make-up artist, all the people who allow the film to be made, possibly in addition to the work on which the story is based.

There are ghost writers, paid to write for someone, who place an order with some guidance, and publish without saying they got help.

Art is not always made alone, but it is made between humans. It takes time, it is difficult, that's why some works are not finished, others exist in several copies. It's funny, because at one time, we refused to see that Art was so complicated, we only wanted the result. This seems to still be the case today, except there isn't even an artist anymore.

This form of “art” is a theft, and a risk of repetition, cold, without soul, without interest, which risks replacing real Art, or in any case destroying it.

Because why would artists want to continue to fight, to take time, money, health, for a result that will be ignored, criticized or stolen ? Even if it's their passion or their job, they will eventually stop.

And me who loves Art, who reads, goes to the cinema, to the museum, who listens to music, it really scares me, a world without Art, all because some find it funny to have a little glory without make any effort.

Respect Art, respect the artists, and respect yourself first. There is nothing good in using AI generators.

[homlessness-portland-unst242]

Interview with Operation Night watch

For my interview with one stakeholder, I decided to interview Sara From Operation Night Watch.

“Well me personally, I actually started out as a volunteer, May of 2022 and the more i got to know the people it grabbed ahold of me and then eventually the program manger left and so i applied for the job not thinking I was going to get it, but i applied for it anyways and they gave it to me. “ 

This was Sara’s response to the question I asked which was “How did you get involved in the operation night watch”. 

What is an operation night watch? 

“What we do there is it’s basically a day center but we run at night. It's a community center for the homeless community, low income basically anybody trying to get off the street and out of the elements for a few hours of the night. Were especially popular throughout the winter months. What we do is we provide hot meals, coffee, sandwiches throughout the night and a couple charging stations. It's just kind of a place to come and just kind of chill out for a while. One thing we do with our volunteers is we like to encourage them to get into conversations with the people and get to know them. We're very hands on which I think kind of serepates us a little bit, we really want our volunteers to mainly be there to communicate and get to know the people and hear their side of things and close that gap between us and them . it's to create a better understanding of who these people actually are and to see them for who they are not for what the media is showing. We’ll be realistic, they are not shown in the best light, it's like they are cherry picking the right ones to make the rest of the community look bad. We call ourselves low barriers meaning there's no expectations when coming in you don't have to give your name when coming in, we're not keeping tabs on you. Our people really like that because they can feel more secure because they aren’t feeling exposed. The main rule is "don't cause trouble and come as you are, we do serve a lot of people with severe mental illness or drug addiction so we do have a therapist on site who is there to talk to especially for people who don't have insurance”.

 With running operation night watches are there any problems with developing and maintaining the operation at night or in general? 

“Not maintaining, developing wise, getting food is difficult especially if you are not a partner with somebody. I spend a lot of my time scavenging basically to get our people fed. I do the cooking myself and that's been a big challenge. Since we are low budget, making sure we have the supplies we need without going over budget and getting a solid donor base can sometimes be challenging. Those have been the main reasons for my personal experience.” 

I know you say you guys are a smaller organization, do you still have support or is it opposition? 

“Oh yeah, we have tons of support. We have churches, where we partner with St.Andrews church and other churches. There are some other people working from different organizations that work with us for our fundraiser coming up. There's people that have stepped in because we are very low on staff;it's only a staff of two at the moment. Not counting the board. It's me and Colin, our Mental health director. There are organizations that help promote us even if they can't help financially. People see the effect we have on those around us and help out.” 

Do you feel like there is a lot of risk within your organization or do any risks help challenge or make the program engagement grow? 

“ With anything there is always risk. For example right now we have a very solid base of regulars but we are seeing new people come in. we risk overpopulation the more people know who you are which means the more coffee you're giving away the more supplies you need to get. You can risk running out of the supplies that are needed. You're also gonna risk bad reviews but we've been called every name in the book but we don't really care.  Everybody has their opinion on the homeless community and they will tell you those opinions and I'm not here to change their minds because I'm not going to, people are really good at creating an entire situation based on one person's experience  and not expanding their horizons or vision. We do risk getting negative feedback but I don't care if it's a part of the job. I'll tell you the thing is that we have a specific example of a gentleman that comes in every single week just loves the place and is getting use to the people, he started with us because he didn't like homeless people, he started with us because he started to feel that disdain and anger toward homeless people. He had one issue with someone on the max line and started to hate them but he didn't like that feeling so he volunteered with us and so it changed his perception and he's been a regular with us for a while now.”Nobody likes being alienated and that's what's happening to the homeless. People will say well there's that person waving a knife around. Yeah, there was that one waving a knife around, those 15 other people were sitting there not doing anything. You're more exposed as a homeless person. we get to be in our homes and have those freak out moments, but no one sees it. Those on the streets have their moments and people are going to see that. “

What does the future look like for an operation night watch? What are your specific goals for the future?

“ Right now we have a fundraiser coming up but we need to get donors. That's our main goal right now we need to find donors cause you know were kind of in a rough spot right now we've been around for Forty years but the pandemic along with some things sort of hurt us a bit, we need to get a string donor base and if we can get that we can get funding and we also need government funding and that's another thing cause we've never had it and they don't generally give to places like us. That a big goal is to get government funding because one thing is that we keep the streets safer and give supplies they need. Nightwatch is like the people on the streets home so they inform us if they notice anything weird  going on, their watch dogs for us. They Are very protective of us, they got my back and it's because I got their back. If we had everything we wanted the goals would be to expand. I want to put multiple mini locations that are smaller so that you can create those relationships and builds.we are small rough where we have time to get to know everyone and sit down so i think there should be smaller places like that. Places with smaller set ups that are spread out, you're getting to know your neighbors basically in that area.” 

link to Operation Night Watch's website: https://www.operationnightwatch.org/

[olessan]

I'm planning on giving my commission info a renovation soon -- more or less the same prices but updated, better quality examples and probably more variety.

I also want to post more art in general! I'm trying but I'm wearing myself out scraping together enough to buy basic groceries (I'm living on roughly 3-4 frozen pizzas a week), and the art I do draw is mostly not very postable stuff like boring chararcter portraits.😅

Health ramble-rant incoming:

I have a premolar tooth on each side with pretty bad cavities: #1 upper right side cracked and has a hole, #2 upper left side is dead, almost completely broken away, and loose in the socket with the root exposed (it's been broken for a year but has only just started getting loose this month). Left side needs to come out before it falls out on its own or gets infected, so I'm chewing VERY CAREFULLY on the right side even though it sets off the sensitivity of the cavity there.

The dead tooth now rocks inwards about 30 degrees if I bump it, and it's getting caught on, and being bumped by, the opposing lower teeth if I move my jaw too much.

Only one of my wisdom teeth has erupted correctly and the other three are impacted (both lower ones are partially out but at 90 degree angles), which is not an immediate problem aside from my previously perfect tooth alignment slowly getting messed up, but because I have to avoid my premolars I am now chewing on the gums where the wisdom teeth should erupt, so now am slowly tearing up those gums and potentially risking creating more infection weakspots.

The gums on both lower molars are torn to hell now, but both cavities are on the upper jaw -- upper jaw tooth infections can spread to the maxillary bone, and then the heart and brain, within a week. Some tooth infections and abscesses can eat the maxillary/jaw bone away without any obvious symptoms.

If I'd gone to a dentist at the start of the year they probably would've given me a root canal on left cavity but now the entire thing has to come out because there's not enough tooth left to anchor a crown.

It's like $600-$1500 of dental work, some of which is emergency 🙃

[mariska]

very professional artist's interpretation of what i have looked like for the past two hours

[kakashiswilloffire]

Orange Sherbet

ao3 link

tw: suicide attempt, overdose, painkillers, mentions of self harm

words: 3.5k

He was a drain on Gai.

His students didn’t need him—they’d surpass him soon enough.

There were still villagers who called him Friend-Killer Kakashi.

He still saw faces every time he laid down to sleep.

He felt Rin’s blood splash onto his chest every time he used the Chidori.

He couldn’t help Itachi.

He couldn’t help anyone.

Sometimes he understood what must’ve gone through his father’s head.

Sometimes, the corner store doesn’t have orange sherbet.

Kakashi is suicidal and we hope Gai can help.

If there was orange sherbet at the convenience store on the way home, he’d stay alive. They always had pints of ice creams and other frozen treats—it was something he had promised to treat himself to when he felt this way. They had made him write down all these promises during his last few mental health sessions with various Yamanakas, listing three people he could talk to when he felt lonely, three distractions he could use to keep himself sane for a few minutes longer, three reasons to stay alive. When he felt like he couldn’t stand to live another day, he had to summon Pakkun, read Icha Icha, and eat something special and different. Pakkun was still recovering from their last rough battle together. He had read each volume of Icha Icha so many times they risked falling apart upon his next touch. So orange sherbet it was.

He’d never cared much for sweets, of course. But there was something nostalgic about orange sherbet, it wasn’t quite as punch-in-the-face sugary as ice cream, but still gave a slight buzz and coated his tongue. In the back of his mind, he remembered his father—or was it Minato?—buying a pint for each of them and snagging two disposable spoons so they could enjoy them as they walked back from the training grounds. Or was it three pints with Rin and Obito after difficult missions? Something Gai or Tenzou insisted on buying for his birthday one year? Everything blurred in his mind, unable to clearly break each memory apart to see it again.

He pushed open the door, hearing the dull chime of bells as it swung forward to let him into the packed corner shop. He made his way to the freezer without taking in any of the other colors, sights, or smells around him. He remembered his goal. One pint of orange sherbet. Buy one, eat it, and try life again tomorrow.

The freezer door was coated in a light fog, but he was in no hurry to see through it. It was just him and the shopkeep cashing out an older civilian woman. He skimmed his eyes across the rows, looking for the familiar orange carton.

Where was it?

He tried again, looking more carefully at each row, all the way across, then moving down to the next systematically. His heart rate jumped roughly 15 more beats per minute.

They always have it.

He opened the door, searching furiously with his eyes now that there was no frost in his way. He knelt to the ground, checking the bottom rows thoroughly.

It has to be here.

He glanced at the shopkeep, bagging the woman’s groceries as she talked animatedly about something he didn’t care enough to make out. He slid his headband up a couple of inches, barely exposing the crimson eye hidden beneath. With as much chakra as he dared use given his current state, he searched the frozen rack again.

Every flavor of ice cream he could think of, and a least a dozen more he would never consider. And toward the bottom, there was lime, lemon, and raspberry,

No orange sherbet.

He wasn’t sure how long he remained squatted down with the freezer door open, focused on the empty slot where it should be. The shopkeep, now with no other customers, cleared his throat loudly and gestured for Kakashi to shut the door. He blinked twice, then rose, hearing the door seal as he returned to his feet.

“Anything I can help you with?”

Kakashi blinked, again. There was all this noise roaring in his head, and he felt flushed. After a beat too long, he understood what had been asked and shook his head.

“No, ah… Thank you.”

He nodded and quickly ducked out of the store.

That was it. He had to write down three reasons. Reason one was currently out of commission because of him. Reason two had been violently abused so that he had something to do with his hands when he was so full of fire and anxiety that if he wasn’t holding something he’d— well, whatever came easiest or first. Digging his nails into his arms, forming tiny red divots. Scratching until the skin was raw and angry. Slamming fists into his thighs. Step one was always untying his kunai pouch and letting it fall. He’d learned that early on.

Reason number three to stay alive, and the agreement he’d made with himself today, was the convenience of dropping by the store for a small treat. Without that, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Walking back to his apartment, he thought about the previous weeks. Those promises had all begun the same way, but ended in a different direction. The format was simple: if blank, then I won’t kill myself today. He used to use a similar format: I can’t kill myself until blank. The problem with that was dreaming far enough ahead to find a goal worth the pain, effort, and time, and also, what to do when the goal was met. You can’t kill yourself until you make chunin. You can’t kill yourself until you complete an A rank mission. You can’t kill yourself until you make jonin. You can’t kill yourself until… what? Until I come back from a mission with no casualties? Until I can become close to someone without them dying in front of me? It spiraled too quickly to come back from.

The simpler way to go about it was short-term goals. Can’t kill yourself till after dinner. Then you’ve gotta brush your teeth. Then read a chapter of a book, or two. Then you’re tired, and you can sleep until the alarm wakes you far earlier than the sun would, and you live until you feel like you can’t again. But even that had its downfalls—if you can’t be bothered to brush your teeth tonight, you’ve gotta find something to keep going.

It had been Gai who suggested rephrasing the prompt to its latest version. On a day I challenge you, Rival, you can’t end the passion of youth! The challenges had been almost daily for a couple of months after that, until Gai had left for an extended mission and Kakashi had been thoroughly encouraged to stay a similar amount of time in the Yamanaka’s care. He’d begrudgingly admitted later that both of those developments had helped, and it had been a few years since his last bout with depression like this.

But it had been like this for a few months now, and the clouds fuzzing over his mind didn’t seem to be letting up. So he revisited some old advice. If it doesn’t rain on the way home, he’d stay alive. The sky remained cloudless. If Naruto pulled something stupid during training, he’d stay alive. It only took fifteen minutes before Sakura started yelling at him. If there was orange sherbet in the corner store—But there wasn’t.

Somehow, he made it inside his apartment, not quite recalling the rest of the walk through the dull ache behind his eyes. He slipped his unzipped vest off his shoulders, not noticing it hit the floor. Routine dictated that next was the kunai pouch, then the bandages, then—

He was sitting on the floor and wasn’t sure how he got there. Sitting was a generous term, he supposed, as his legs were fully outstretched and he was propped on one forearm with his head against the wall. His eyes slowly screwed tight as the dull ache sharpened briefly, then the static between his ears picked up in volume. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and gradually got back to his feet, stumbling into the living room.

He slumped across the couch, staring at the ceiling. He remembered the routine, drilling itself into his head. His vest was off, he needed to remove the kunai pouch, then the bandages, then the shoes, and put all of that away before removing the rest of his clothing to take a shower. After that was dinner, then two hours of free time to fill with whatever he was capable of, then bed. Lately the free time had been compromised of staring at the pile of clean laundry on the chair opposite him that had needed to be put away since Wednesday. He knew the routine. He decided to get a jump start on free time anyway.

He began counting all of the socks he could see sticking out of the collection of clothes. Organization and listing had always helped situate his mind and get him back on track. After ten or so minutes, he was finally able to unstrap the kunai pouch, tossing it across the room, taking care to not pay attention where it landed. There had been a week where Kakashi didn’t even carry the bag because Gai had taken it and every sharp object he could find in the apartment under the pretense of helping him hone his taijutsu by not relying on weapons. He had been content to let Gai keep the explanation at that. That might be something to revisit soon.

No. Gai had already done more than enough for him.

Kakashi found himself standing in his small bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d been in the living room, but he was now free of his bandages and shoes. He shrugged, reaching behind his head to untie his headband. Somehow, it had gotten knotted worse than usual and a section of his hair was caught in it. He yanked viciously at it, breathing in through gritted teeth at the sting then feeling himself relax ever so slightly. Forgoing undoing the knot, he slid it along the trapped segment of hair until the headband came free. That made it on to the counter. That never saw the floor, unlike every other part of his wardrobe had

.Next to the headband on the counter was a scattered collection of varying sizes of orange plastic bottles with thick white caps. The clinical labels all had his name, and the names of various antidepressants and antianxiety medications, as well as several painkillers and muscle relaxants and some antibiotic from the mission a couple years back where everyone returned miserably ill. Most of the bottles were empty, and he had held on to them meaning to get them refilled. He always had good intentions, but there was so many things to do in a day, and he ran out of energy usually three or four items into his list.

The one thing he could always count of having around, though, was some kind of pain relief.

Missions were hard, somehow harder now than ever with him as a jonin leader. He still had teammates, but they relied fully on him to take the brunt of every attack and to protect them at all costs. He couldn’t blame them, of course. They were children. He wanted nothing more than for them to be children and not suffer the same losses he had.

Still, he was sure to return from every mission above a D rank with at least a few nasty bruises. And any time Gai could rope him into a training session, he knew he’d come home needing ice packs and the heating pad and whatever else he could get to be able to train with his team the next morning.

And that was how he found himself glaring into the mirror, the bottle of white tablets shaking in his fist.

He was certainly in pain, that couldn’t be argued.

But how many to take?

No orange sherbet.

He shook his head vigorously again, walking back into the living room and falling onto the couch. He focused on a mark on the ceiling, breathing faster than he understood why while his vision started swimming.

There wasn’t orange sherbet.

He was a drain on Gai.

His students didn’t need him—they’d surpass him soon enough.

There were still villagers who called him Friend-Killer Kakashi,

He still saw faces every time he laid down to sleep.

He felt Rin’s blood splash onto his chest every time he used the Chidori,

Sometimes he understood what must’ve gone through his father’s head.

He couldn’t help Itachi

He couldn’t help anyone,

Sometimes, the corner store doesn’t have orange sherbet.

Sometimes, the little orange bottle that rattles doesn’t rattle any more.

He was in the kitchen, water dripping off his face and hands as he panted over the sink. How did he get here? He swallowed hard, his mouth somehow still dry, and turned the water off. The prescription bottle was laying on the floor. Then so was he. Against the cold tile, he was able to relax just a bit again.

It’d be over soon. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else ever again.

His thoughts became harder to string along, but that didn’t bother him. The thoughts he could connect didn’t sting as much as they usually did. It might be nice to put away that laundry, actually.

Every muscle was heavy. There was so much weight on him, and he couldn’t move. How much time had passed? He thought his heart was starting to race, and wondered if he was having second thoughts. But he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him any longer. He struggled for hours, days, to move his index finger to trace the hem of his shirt over and over. Could he feel it? Was he moving?

He rolled to his side, slowly bringing his knees up to prepare to stand. But his body didn’t move. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He couldn’t? His… It was his body. But? Was he? Could move? …Him?

Several centuries had passed before he heard the key in the door, and the door had already been sealed shut before he understood what the noise was.

“Ka-KASHI! In celebration of your return home from your latest mission, I made sure to grab a treat. Do you remember when you left the ANBU and we went to the corner store together? What a celebration to end all celebrations that day was! I was sure to grab the finest, most youthful of every snack—orange sherbet!”

***

Gai held the thin plastic bag up triumphantly, two pints rolling against each other. Normally he would have also grabbed spoons, but assuming Kakashi would be home, he was sure he could find two spoons somewhere in the apartment, even if he had to wash every dish himself.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to him that Kakashi was on a downswing lately, but he’d always been the counter to balance his own exuberance, and he had complete confidence that they would move past this, too.

He nudged the flak vest that was crumpled on the ground at his feet. Kakashi must’ve been itching to take it off to have removed it the second he got inside. But why wouldn’t he have hung it up, or placed it at least near the hamper? This wasn’t part of the routine. Had he been badly injured on this last mission?

That must be it. He would have come home, shed his clothing, and jumped in the shower to clean his wounds and begin loosening his muscles. Much to Gai’s dismay, Kakashi seemed to be magnetically repelled from hospitals, preferring to treat his wounds himself as long as he could walk. So he must have some sort of torso injury, maybe bruised ribs or a minor stab wound, and he was surely tending to it quietly deeper inside the apartment.

The laundry he had helped Kakashi wash last week was still in the soft, cushioned chair in the dim living room. That wasn’t too surprising, he knew that was the first thing Kakashi would let fall by the wayside if something wasn’t going to get done. As long as the clothes were clean, he could wear them, even if they hadn’t been neatly hung, and that was something Gai could live with.

What he did not appreciate the sight of, however, was the kunai pouch halfway under the end table near the entry way. With such an inconvenient location, Kakashi surely must have made an effort to lose the bag and the knives it contained. He felt his heart swell with pride that Kakashi had the forethought to disregard the bag, but his heart deflated just as quickly with the knowledge that Kakashi felt it necessary to do so.

As he continued into the apartment, he called out his rival’s name once or twice. He must be home. The barrier seals hadn’t been placed over the front door, which means he either was here, or kidnapped from here, and the building still existed, so he must not have been kidnapped. So where was he?

Conscious of the rapidly melting sherbet in his hand, he turned down the hallway to the kitchen to leave the bad in the freezer while he helped Kakashi, presumably in the bedroom, bandage his wounds.

As he rounded the corner, flipping on the lights as he went, he heard a small groan. Nothing at eye level. Cautiously stepping forward, his foot sent a small orange plastic bottle skittering across the tiles.

Gai was barely aware of the sherbet hitting the ground.

Kakashi looked terrible. It was not particularly strange to find him lying on the ground, but there was absolutely no color in his face. Both of his eyes were lazily opened, and neither focused on Gai’s as he kneeled down to check his vitals. His breathing was shallow and his heart rate garbage.

“What did you DO?”

Gai yanked Kakashi up into a sitting position, grabbing for the prescription bottle. Depending on what it said, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe he’d been poisoned. Maybe even food poisoning. But the signs of an opiate overdose matched the label printed in cruelly clinical terms and he crushed the plastic in his fist. Kakashi needed to get to a hospital, and he needed to get there immediately.

He gathered his rival in his arms, not noticing his weight nearly as much as he noticed how limp he was, making no effort to not be ragdolled around. As he stood up, he took stock again of Kakashi’s breathing—shallower than a moment ago. After a second’s hesitation, he reached for the edge of his mask and yanked it down under his chin, hoping the direct access of air to his lips and nose might help. His lips had some color in them still, and he looked away, trying to respect the privacy of the man who he would kill as soon as he was saved.

***

Some time in the next twenty-four hours, Kakashi’s eyes opened. When they did, blinded by the light and surrounded by medical whites, he was shocked to find himself actually in heaven. What brought him back to earth was Gai, unceremoniously slapping his shoulder.

“What, my dear, dear rival, were you thinking?” he said, thankfully not as loudly as he could have.

Kakashi was at a loss. There were dozens, hundreds of thoughts racing through his head, but they all seemed password-protected and he didn’t have administrative access. He could barely open his mouth, covered by a thin towel, let alone form an explanation that would have made any sense to Gai.

Instead, he surprised himself by feeling the towel suddenly go cold and cling to his skin.

Gai panicked for a moment at the sight of Kakashi’s tears, then took a deep breath and slid forward to the edge of his chair. He brushed a warm, calloused thumb across his rival’s face.

“I know you’re in pain. I do. I don’t understand it, but I believe that you’re in pain and we’re going to help you get better.” He took a shuddering breath, noting that it was thicker with emotion than he had anticipated. “I don’t know what the future is going to hold for us, but the passion of our youth, and especially of your youth, Kakashi, is not close to over. So, whatever it takes, whatever the Yamanakas advise and whatever you need, we’ll make it happen. I love you, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened, and Gai became aware that he had opened his Sharingan at some point to record this moment in his memory. He swallowed, feeling his throat begin to ache.

“I love you.”

Kakashi’s tears began falling in a steady stream, and Gai remained exactly where he was, brushing soft, silver hair off of his rival’s forehead. After a moment, he leaned further forward and pressed his forehead against the space he had just cleared.

In a small, scratchy voice he had not heard from the man laying before him ever in the past, he heard a whisper that nearly broke his heart.

“I love you too.”

[woman-loving]

I’ve been reading some articles about lesbian identities in Indonesia, from the late 80s to the 00s, and wanted to share some quotes that highlighted a couple trends that I’ve also noticed in reading about butch/femme communities in other countries.

1) There are different expectations about sexual distinctiveness and marriage to men are attached to butch and femme identities. There is a greater expectation that femmes will marry men, and femmes more often do marry men, though some butches do as well. Marriages to men seem to be for convenience or in name only, and women may continue to have female lovers.

2) Distinctions are made between real/pure/positive lesbians (butches) and other lesbians (femmes) who are “potentially normal.” This shows the flexibility of lesbian identity, where they can be gradations and contradictions in what it means to be a lesbian (e.g. a woman being a lesbian but not a “real lesbian"). The category has cores and peripheries, rather than everyone being equally lesbian or else completely outside of it.

3) There are disagreements between members, which cross butch/femme lines, about the meanings of these identities and whose lesbianism or community involvement should be taken seriously. The first passage describes femmes as engaging in a “more active appropriation of lesbianism as a core element of their subjectivity.” The boundaries of lesbianism can potentially expand or contract as people struggle to define it.

4) People don’t always meet the community expectations attached to their identity.

I think these passages help complicate the picture of what lesbian identities can look like, and some of these same tensions and debates are common features of lesbian identity in many different cultures. I also think these issues--the (differential) weight given to relationships with men, the notion of positive versus negative lesbians, and the active appropriation of lesbianism by peripheral members--are relevant to bisexual interest, since these questions also shape bi women’s engagement in lesbianism/lesbian communities. (And we can say that without claiming that any particular women in these narratives are “really bisexual.”)

Anyway, without further ado... (this first one picks up right in the middle of a passage because I couldn’t get the previous page on the google preview :T)

From “Desiring Bodies or Defiant Cultures: Butch-Femme Lesbians in Jakarta and Lima,” by Saskia E. Wieringa, in Female Desires: Same-Sex Relations and Transgender Practices Across Cultures, eds. Evelyn Blackwood and Saskia E. Wieringa, 1999:

“[...]negative lesbians. We are positive lesbians. We are pure, 100% lesbian. With them you can never know. Before you know it, they are seeing a man again, and we are given the good-bye.”

Father Abraham, who had entered during her last words, took over. “Let me explain. … Take Koes. Again and again her girlfriends leave her. Soon she’ll be old and lonely. Who will help her then? For these girls it is just an adventure, while for butches like Koes it is their whole life.”“Yes, well, Abraham, … my experience is limited, of course, but it seems to me that the femmes flee the same problems that make life so hard for the butches. So they’d rather support each other.”

“In any case,” Sigit added, ‘they have become active now, that’s why they’re here, isn’t that so?” And she looked questioningly at the three dolls behind the typing machine, Roekmi and my neighbour. The most brazen femme had been nodding in a mocking manner while Sigit and I were talking.

“So we’re only supposed to be wives? We’re not suited for something serious, are we? Maybe we should set up a wives’ organization, Dharma Wanita,[23] the Dharma Wanita PERLESIN? Just like all those other organizations of the wives of civil servants and lawyers?” …

“Come on, Ari,” Sigit insisted, “why don’t you just ask them? You could at least ask them whether they want to join?” Ari found it extremely hard. Helplessly she looked at the other butches.

“Do you really mean that i should ask whether our wives would like to join / our / organization?” One of the butches nodded.

“Ok, fine.” She directed herself to the dolls.

“Well, what do you want? Do you want to join us? But in that case you shouldn’t just say yes, then you should also be involved with your whole heart.”

“You never asked that of the others,” the brazen femme pointed out, “but yes, I will definitely dedicate myself to the organization.” Roekmi and the two femmes at her side also nodded. (Wieringa 1987:89-91)

The above example is indicative of the social marginalization of the b/f community. it also captures in it one of its moments of transformation. The defiance of the femmes of the code that prescribes the division of butches and femmes into “positive” and “negative” lesbians respectively indicates a more active appropriation of lesbianism as a core element of their subjectivity. At the same time it illustrates the hegemony of the dominant heterosexual culture with its gendered principles of organization.

Yet, however much the butches conformed to male gender behavior they didn’t define themselves as male; their relation to their bodies was rather ambiguous. at times they defined themselves as a third sex, which is nonfemale[…]. [...] [Butches’] call for organization was not linked to a feminist protest against rigid gender norms. Rather they felt that nature had played a trick on them and they they had to devise ways to confront the dangers to which this situation gave rise. Jakarta’s b/f lesbians when I met them in the early eighties were not in the least interested in feminism. In fact, the butches among them were more concerned with the case of a friend of them who was undergoing a sex change operation. They clearly considered it an option, but none of them decided to follow this example. When I asked them why, all of them mentioned the health risks involved and the costs. None of them stated that they rather preferred their own bodies. Their bodies, although the source of sexual pleasure and as such the object of constant attention, didn’t make it any too easy for them to get the satisfaction they sought or, at least, to attract the partners they desired.

From "Let Them Take Ecstasy: Class and Jakarta Lesbians," by Alison J. Murray, in Female Desires: Same-Sex Relations and Transgender Practices Across Cultures, eds. Evelyn Blackwood and Saskia E. Wieringa, 1999:

Covert lesbian activities are thus an adaptation to the ideological context, where the distinction between hidden and exposed sexual behavior allows for fluidity in sexual relations (“everyone could be said to be bisexual” according to Oetomo 1995) as long as the primary presentation is heterosexual/monogamous. It is not lesbian activity that has been imported from the West, but the word lesbi used to label the Western concept of individual identity based on a fixed sexuality. I have not found that Indonesian women like to use the label to describe themselves, since it is connected to unpleasant stereotypes and the pathological view of deviance derived from Freudian psychology (cf Foucault 1978).

The concept of butch-femme also has a different meaning in Indonesia from the current Western use which implies a subversion of norms and playful use of roles and styles (cf Nestle 1992). In Indonesia (and other parts of Southeast Asia, such as the Philippines, Thailand’s tom-and-dee: Chetame 1995) the roles are quite strictly, or restrictively, defined and are related to popular, pseudo-psychological explanations of the “real” lesbian. In the simple terms of popular magazines, the butch (sentul) is more than 50% lesbian, or incurably lesbi, while the femme (kantil) is less than 50% lesbian, or potentially normal. Blackwood’s (1994) description of her secretive relationship with a butch-identified woman in Sumatra brings up some cross-cultural differences and difficulties that they experienced and could not speak about publicly. The Sumatran woman adopted masculine signifies and would not be touched sexually herself; she wanted to be called “pa” by Blackwood, who she expected to behave as a “good wife.” Meanwhile, Blackwood’s own beliefs, as well as her higher status due to class and ethnicity, made it hard to take on the passive female role.

I want to emphasize here that behavior needs to be conceptually separated from identity, as both are contextually specific and constrained by opportunity. It is common for young women socialized into a rigid heterosexual regime, in Asia or the West, to experience their sexual feelings in terms of gender confusion: “If I am attracted to women, then I must be a man trapped in a woman’s body.” Women are not socialized to seek out a sexual partner (of any kind), or to be sexual at all, so an internal “feeling” may never be expressed unless there are role models or opportunities available. If the butch-femme stereotype, as presented in the Indonesian popular media, is the only image of lesbians available outside the metropolis (e.g., in Sumatra), then this may affect how women express their feelings. However, urban lower-class lesbians engage in a range of styles and practices: some use butch style consciously to earn peer respect, while others reject the butch as out-dated. The stereotype of all lower-class lesbians whether following butch-femme roles or conforming to one subcultural pattern is far from the case and reflects the media and elite’s lack of real knowledge about street life. […]

The imagery of sickness creates powerful stigmatization and internalized homophobia: women may refer to themselves as sakit (sick). An ex-lover of mine in Jakarta is quite happy to state a preference for women while at the same time expressing disgust at the word lesbi and at the sight of a butch dyke; however, I have generally found that the stigma around lesbian labels and symbols is not translated into discrimination against individuals based on their sexual activities. I have been surprised to discover how many women in Jakarta will either admit to having sex with women or to being interested in it, but again, this is only rarely accompanied by an open lesbian (or bisexual) identity. I have found it hard to avoid the word “lesbian” to refer to female-to-female sexual relations, but it should not be taken to imply a permanent self-identity. It is very important to try and understand the social contexts of behavior, in order to avoid drawing conclusions based on inappropriate Western notions of lesbian identity, community, or “queer” culture.

From “Beyond the ‘Closet’: The Voices of Lesbian Women in Yogyakarta,” by Tracy L Wright Webster, 2004:

Most importantly a supportive community group of lesbian, bisexual and transgender women is essential, given that these sexualities are thrust together in Sektor 15. Potentially, a group comprised of women from each of these categories, that is lesbian, bisexual or transgender, may prove problematic to say the least, given that the needs and issues of each group are different. Clearly the informal communities already in existence in Yogya are indicators of this. Any formal or organized groupings would certainly benefit by modeling on current, though informal organisations. In the lesbian network, transgendered women (those who wish to become men or who consider themselves male) are not affiliated, however many ‘femme’ identified women who have been and intend to be involved in heterosexual relationships in the future, are among the group in partnership with their ‘butch’ pacar (Indo: girlfriend/boyfiend/lover).

Organisations of women questioning sexuality have existed in Yogya in the past. A butch identified respondent said she was involved in the formation of a lesbian, bisexual and transgender network in collaboration with another Indonesian woman, who also identified as butch, 20 years her senior. The group was called Opo (Javanese:what) or Opo We (Jav:whatever), the name highlighting that any issue could be discussed or entered into within the group. Members were an amalgam of both of the women’s friends and acquaintances. The underlying philosophy of the group was that “regardless of a woman’s life experience, marriage, children…it is her basic human right to live as a lesbian if she has the sexual inclination”. The elder founding member of this group, now 46, married a man and had a child. She now lives with her husband (in name only), child and female partner in the same home. Although this arrangement according to the interviewee “is rare… because the husband is there, she is spared the questions from the neighbours”. Here I must add that it is common in Java for lesbians to marry to fulfill their social role as mothers, and then to separate from their husbands to live their lives in partnership with a woman. This trend however is more common among the ‘femme’ group.

From "(Re)articulations: gender and same-sex subjectivities in Yogyakarta, Indonesia," by Tracy Wright Webster, in Intersections: Gender and Sexuality in Asia and the Pacific, Issue 18, Oct 2008:

Lesbi subjectivities Since gender, for the most part, determines sexuality in Java, sexuality and gender cannot be analysed as discrete categories.[64] For all of the self-identified butchi participants, lesbi was the term used to describe their sexuality. This is contrary to the findings of two key researchers of female same-sex sexuality in Indonesia. Alison Murray's research in Jakarta in the 1980s suggests that females of same-sex attraction did not like the term 'lesbian'[65] due to its connection with 'unpleasant stereotypes' and deviant pathologies.[66] In 1995, Gayatri found that media representations depicting lesbi as males trapped in female bodies encouraged same-sex attracted women to seek new, contemporary descriptors.[67] The participants in this research, however, embraced the term lesbi as an all-encompassing descriptor of female same-sex attraction and as Boellstorff has noted in 2000, Indonesian lesbi tend to see themselves as part of a wider international lesbian network.[68]

The term lesbi has been used in Indonesia since the 1980s, although not commonly or consistently. Lines, les, lesbian, lesbo, lesbong and L, among others, are also used. Female same-sex/lesbi subjectivities in Yogya are not strongly associated with political motivations and the subversion of heteropatriarchy as they were among the Western lesbian feminists of the 1960s. By the time most of the participants in this research were born, the term lesbi had already become infused in Indonesian discourses of sexuality among the urban elite (though with negative connotations in most cases), and has since become commonly used both by females of same-sex attraction to describe themselves, and by others. Most learnt from peers at school and through reading Indonesian magazines.

However, public use of the term lesbi and expression of lesbi subjectivity has its risks. Murray's research on middle to upper class lesbians suggests that females identifying as lesbi have more to lose than lower class lesbi in terms of social position and the power invested in that class positioning. This is particularly in relation to their position in the family.[69] Conversely, her work also shows that lower class lesbi 'have the freedom to play without closing off their options.'[70] As Aji suggests, young females, particularly of the priyayi class may not be in a position to resist the social stigma attached to lesbianism and the possible consequences of rejection or abuse. Yusi faced this reality despite the fact that s/he had not declared herself lesbi. Hir gendered subjectivity meant that s/he did not conform to stereotypical feminine ideals and desires.

With so much at stake, many lesbi remain invisible. Heteronormative and feminine gendered expectations for females in part explain why lesbians may indeed be the 'least known population group in Indonesia.'[71] Collusion in invisibility can be seen here as a protective strategy. The lesbi community or keluarga (family) is what Murray refers to as a 'strategic community' of the lesbian subculture.[72] The strategic nature of the community lies in its sense of protection: the community provides a safe haven for disclosure. Invisibility, however, also arises through the factors I mentioned earlier: the normative feminine representations of femme, their tendency to express lesbi subjectivity only while in partnership with a butchi, and their tendency to marry. Invisibility, as a form of discretion, however, may also be chosen.

Gender complementary butchi/femme subjectivities [...] Due to the apparently fixed nature of butchi identities and subjectivities and their reluctance to sleep with males, they are seen as 'true lesbians,'[79] lesbian sejati, an image perpetuated through the media.[80] Similar to the butchi/femme communities in Jakarta, in Yogya, butchi are identified by their strict codes of dress and behaviour which include short hair, sometimes slicked back with gel, collared button up shirts and trousers bought in menswear stores, large-faced watches and bold rings. Butchi characteristically walk with a swagger and smoke in public places. In her research in the 1980s, Wieringa noticed that within lesbi communities in Jakarta the strict 'surveillance and socialisation 'may have contributed to the fixed nature of butchi identities.[81] In Yogya, this is particularly evident in the socialisation of younger lesbi by senior lesbi (a theme I explore elsewhere in my current research).

The participants held individual perspectives on butchness. Aji's butchness is premised on hir masculine gender subjectivity and desire for a partner of complementary gender. Yusi expresses hir butchness differently and relates it to dominance in the relationship and in sex play. The participants who told of the sexual roles within the relationship emphasised their active butchi roles during sex. As Wieringa suggests, this does not necessarily imply femme passivity as femme 'stress their erotic power over their butches.'[82] It does, however, indicate one way in which the butchi I interviewed articulate their sexual agency.

Femme subjectivities, on the other hand, are generally conceived of as transient. As many of the interviews illustrate, femme are expected by their butchi partners to marry and have children: butchi see them as bisexual. In public, and indeed if they marry, they are seen as heterosexual, though their heterosexual practice may not be exclusive. In the 1980s, Wieringa observed that femme 'dressed in an exaggerated fashion, in dresses with ribbons and frills...always wore make up and high heels.'[83] In the new millennium, the femme I met were also fashion savvy though not in an exaggerated sense. Generally they wore hip-hugging, breast-accentuating tight gear, had long hair and wore lipstick and low-heeled pumps. Their feminine representations were stereotypical: it was through association with butchi with in the lesbi community that femme subjectivities become visible.

[nanamis-bigtie]

Alright, I've calmed the panic attack a little bit, so without needless dramatic words I'll try to ask and explain myself once again.

DO NOT reblog my selfship posts.

Unless it's a tag game or something I reblogged from somewhere - or explicitely write it's safe to reblog - just don't touch them. Askbox, comments - they are yours, if you want to interact. But do not reblog them.

Explaination under cut because long:

The moment you reblog something, I loose control over it. I can't erase it. I can't edit it. It will disappear/be changed in the original source, but the reblogged version will remain in same state as it was in the moment you clicked reblog button. It also is very much likely to slip out of filtering settings. (Tumblr filter option sometimes respects original tags even if content was reblogged - but sometimes not.)

Selfship community is very... specific. Because it's personal and because a lot of people use selfship as a way to deal with various traumas and problems, it's not hard to tiptoe on someone's limit. And because I'm a huge blog - probably the biggest active OP reader insert blog right now but also a big blog in general, I have nearly 3k followers and generate big posting and notes movement - my posts easily pop out in search engine. Including my selfship posts. In addition to that, I selfship with very popular characters. I constantly am in risk in approaching someone who is so territorial of their selfship I might end getting attacked, in more or less open way.

Not to mention tons of people who aren't familiar with selfshipping and assume that it's a free real estate, since it was posted by a reader insert, request based blog.

It already DID HAPPEN to me. An ex mutual of mine was so jealous of my selfship she kept pushing herself in my words. It happened more on private discord server, but it also happened under at least one selfship post here.

There's a reason why I put disclaimers in the beginnings of most of selfship posts. I try to keep people away from it, if for some reason they don't want to see it. Sometimes I make posts that aren't so explicitely selfshipping or I simply forget, because I'm on mobile and want to publish something quickly. It's still tagged as #disaster trio for filtering reasons. It's still easy for me to be edited/deleted, if anyone has problem with it.

The moment you reblog it, it's out there on your blog, easy to be accidentally discovered by other selfshipper. Or a hater. You're exposing me to a danger I'm trying to avoid.

Remember, we are living in fandom reality, where people are harassing and doxxing others for such crimes as stanning a certain character, shipping something, simply doing something that an anti hates. Haven't seen such drastic things happening in selfship community YET, but I've seen this discourse already happening on various selfshipping blogs. Pre ts Zoro is 19yo - currently whole 6 years younger than me. For antis it's enough of proof to mark me as a pedo.

And now imagine what could happen to me, if they used it as an excuse and started harassing me. I went through it in a different fandom, because a bully disliked that I had a different take on her fav character. But then I was a little blog, one that could be easily deleted, where ties could be easily cut. Right now, I'm much easier to be tracked.

Even if I wouldn't be attacked as a pedo, if the info that I selfship was leaked to my personal sphere of internet - to my boss, to my family - I could face very serious consequences. From increasing stress and worsening my mental health to becoming a victim of even bigger abuse. Yes, I am living in abusive household and working my ass off to more or less stand straight, so I can get 2nd job and run away from here.

My mother is not beating me anymore, but she would be absolutely delighted, if she found out the reason why I stack so many figures.

[dknc3]

I was going to wish you an happy birthday yesterday and then missed it, so happy belated birthday, Darla!!! I hope you had a good yesterday, even with these circumstances, and I really hope you and your family are staying safe and healthy, and that 2021 treats you all well :D Wish you much happiness and love ❤❤

Thank you for the birthday wishes. My birthday was actually both a day of incredible gratitude and a day of feeling physically awful.

Almost my entire family has now had Covid. It started with my middle son who we assume was exposed at work as he works in a restaurant. In fairly rapid succession, my youngest son, my husband, and then I came down with it as well.

Best thing about Son #2’s exposure is that it apparently came after my oldest son and his fiancée went back to Virginia after Christmas and they did not get it. Worst thing is that my 82 year old mother asked him to do a couple things at her house the day before he got his fever. And she got Covid, too.

I cannot say enough how important it is to protect yourself from this virus—it is scary as hell and is still raging out of control in the U.S. and many places around the world. As a health care worker, I had received my first vaccine, but I got it one day before my son got his fever—too late for it to protect me.

Both boys felt terrible for about 2 days, and then their biggest problem was their inability to taste and smell. By the time their 10 day isolation period was up, they were actually well.

I had my mother get tested as soon as we knew Son#2 had it and contact her physicians as soon as she tested positive. To my dismay, in spite of her age and heart disease, they didn’t want to see her, and simply advised her to go to the ER if her oxygen level dropped or she got short of breath. THERE ARE TREATMENTS WHICH CAN REDUCE HOSPITALIZATION AND DEATHS IN HIGH RISK PATIENTS BUT ONLY IF GIVEN IN THE FIRST 10 DAYS AND ONLY IF THEY ARE NOT ALREADY HOSPITALIZED OR ON OXYGEN!! I am in health care and so I knew this. I spent 2 days (the same 2 days I began to suspect I had it, too) getting her an appointment for an infusion of monoclonal antibodies. I’d moved into her house to monitor her the day she tested positive and she’d had cough, mild sore throat, and intermittent fevers, but no breathing problems. Within 48 hours of her infusion, she never got another fever and slowly began to improve. She never got severely ill. By my birthday, I was finally comfortable that she not only wasn’t going to need the hospital, but didn’t need me staying there any more. I was with her for 9 days, but at least the last 4 of those, she was taking care of me as much as I was taking care of her because I was sicker than her by that point.

Meanwhile, my husband was recovering at home much more slowly than the boys, but more quickly than me. He’s in fair shape now—back to flying airplanes, but still not able to do more than 10-15 minutes on the elliptical machine without his heart rate getting too fast to keep going. I expect he’ll be at least close to his normal by sometime in February.

I’m the only one who had to go to the ER. Never had problems breathing or low oxygen, but my resting heart rate got up to 130 and wouldn’t go down. Got tested for heart attack, myocarditis, and pulmonary embolism, and told, “Well, everything seems okay except for your heart rate and Covid just does that sometimes. If it doesn’t get better over the next several weeks, see a cardiologist.” So it’s been 9 days since my ER visit, and my resting heart rate is mostly in the 90s now. Even 80s or low 70s if I’m lying down for awhile. Still 110-120 any time I’m up moving around which means I stay tired—especially since I went back to work (reduced schedule) Monday. And I still cough quite a bit. But I AM getting better. It’s frustratingly slow, and I honestly don’t know when I’ll feel “normal” again, but I’m happy to feel human and even happier to have all the people I love and myself alive after battling this monster.

I also find myself imagining being in the place of one of the over 400,000 people who’ve died of Covid in this country or whose family members have died. Because that easily could have been me.

Please, take precautions to avoid this thing. Get your vaccination when it’s available. And if anyone who is in a high risk group DOES get this, know there are proactive treatments available and push for them. I don’t know how my mother’s illness would have gone if I hadn’t known how to get her the monoclonal antibodies, and that infuriates me on behalf of everyone who doesn’t have a pushy medically knowledgeable daughter. Your access to good medical care shouldn’t depend on that!!

Anyway, my dear friend, I do appreciate your birthday wishes, and I’m sorry to have hijacked your message into a bit of a Covid awareness post, but on this American presidential Inauguration Day, as I look forward with hope, I feel compelled to speak to this pandemic and encourage people to do everything in their power to stay healthy and safe so all of us can make it into a more hopeful future.

Much love, sweet girl!

[panharmonium]

(1/3) Heya! A while back you were discussing Morgana's character and Merlin's relationship with her WRT magic and mentioned "gaslighting." I know for myself when I refer to Merlin gaslighting her it's not in regards to him not outing himself, but that 1) Pre 2X03 he goes along with Gaius in pretending to not believe that her visions are true and giving her the sleeping draughts. And Post 2X03, after reassuring her that they're still friends, he just doesn't really talk to her again until 2X12.

Hi!  So, I will preface this by saying that I normally don't have a chance to respond to asks in this much depth, but luckily I had some free time over the past couple of days, and there's nothing I like better than writing incessantly about Merlin, so I took the liberty of doing a deep dive. :)

My impression (because these asks don't actually include a particular question for me to answer) is that I'm being asked to expand/defend my own analysis from my original post with regard to the above points.  And I'll be honest and say that I won't always do that for folks on demand, because I really am of the school of thought that I don't write meta to convince anybody of something or "prove" a point - I really am just talking to myself in my own room for fun, and it isn't important to me to make a case to anybody who would rather approach from a different angle.  Like - if we’re on different pages, it’s chill; I don’t feel a need to discuss it or like...change someone’s mind.  (In all seriousness, I really have just been writing these things for myself and a couple of friends.  Prior to three days ago, when some kind of a bizarre surge happened, I had no followers who were here specifically for Merlin.)

But there are definitely some things referenced in these messages that I do have strong opinions about (though as I always say, that doesn't mean anyone is obligated to agree with me!)  And since I have the free time and am actually interested in this topic, I figured I'd try to address these things one by one (though I can't promise to do so in order.)  

I'll put everything under a cut, because this did get quite long.

disclaimer: as always, whenever I write meta: these are just my own thoughts, and I don’t expect anyone to share them.  If we are on different pages, feel free to scroll past and keep having fun in whatever way is most enjoyable to you!

1) “after reassuring her that they're still friends, he just doesn't really talk to her again until 2X12″

So first, I have to pose a question.

Why does this say "[Merlin] just doesn't really talk to her again" after 2.03?

Specifically, that framing.  

Merlin doesn't talk to her again.  

Because what actually happens, from 2.03-2.10, in an objective, this-is-what-we-see-onscreen way, is this: Merlin defies Gaius and tells Morgana that he believes she has magic.  He sends her to the Druids so they can help her, tries to distract the attacking knights so she can escape from Camelot with the Druids permanently, and, when that fails, he makes sure to come to Morgana's room and tell her that he supports her and her secret is safe with him.  

Then, from 2.04 through 2.10, they don't have screen time together.

Not "Merlin just doesn't talk to her."  

They don't have screen time together.  You could say "Morgana just doesn't talk to him" and it would be just as true.

But somehow we immediately frame our discussion of this as Merlin not doing something.  And that is what I am pushing back against.  

Merlin takes massive risks to help Morgana in 2.03.  He makes it very clear that he is there for her and he will never tell her secret, and Morgana, for her part, is shown to be very appreciative of that.  It's clear that she trusts him and believes him.  They part on a very positive note, at the end of 2.03.

Why, then, do we automatically frame the objective, unattributable-to-any-one-character fact that they don't interact onscreen after that as being somehow a failing on Merlin's part?   Why do we frame the simple fact that "they have no scenes together" as something for which we can lay blame?  (On Merlin, of course.  Never on Morgana.)

It's not as if we see Morgana reaching out and failing to get a response.  From 2.04-2.10, there are zero scenes of Morgana trying to approach Merlin and being rebuffed.  There are no scenes of Morgana wishing for guidance and being turned away.  And, with the exception of the Witchfinder episode (where Merlin already does literally everything in his power to expose this dangerous man and protect Morgana from his machinations) Morgana is not, in fact, shown to be getting "more and more freaked out and isolated."  

I want to pause and address that, because I know we've all sort of...collectively decided to imagine that this is what happened (because as a fandom we've tried to just fill in with fanon what feels like a blank left by the writers), but onscreen, in terms of the source material: it is false to say that “in the background you kind of see Morgana get more and more freaked out and isolated as the season progresses.”  It just doesn’t happen.

With the exception of "The Witchfinder," Morgana is never shown to be having any inner conflicts about her magic, not until 2.11.  Episodes 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 - absolutely nothing.  There is one scene in 2.08 where she mentions having trouble sleeping, but then that issue is immediately resolved for her when Morgause gives her the healing bracelet and cures her nightmares.  There are no scenes of Morgana worrying about her magic.  No scenes of her needing help.  No scenes referencing her position as a person who is struggling with being a secret magic-user.  No scenes referencing her magic at all, in fact.  She is not shown to be getting more and more freaked out and isolated; rather she appears to have integrated back into her old life, comfortable now in the knowledge of who and what she is.  It’s like what she told Merlin at the end of 2.03: "I know now who I really am.  And it isn't something to be scared of.  Maybe one day people will come to see magic as a force for good."

And we can of course debate whether that was really an appropriate writing decision, to have Morgana be fine, fine, fine, until suddenly we hit 2.11 and it's like, 'oh, suddenly not fine,' but we also can't evaluate or judge Merlin based on a fanon image of what we imagine was happening in Season 2.  We can only evaluate him based on what actually happens onscreen (whether we feel like it was well-written or not), and what actually happens onscreen is that minus her fear in The Witchfinder, which Merlin already takes decisive actions to address, Morgana is not shown to be distressed or isolated or conflicted until we hit 2.11.  

She appears, as far as Merlin and the audience can see, to be doing just fine.

I’ve got to be clear on this: "Merlin just doesn't really talk to her again" is a loaded sentence, when the phenomenon we're really trying to describe is  "Merlin and Morgana have no scenes together."  It inherently assigns responsibility, agency, and blame for any non-interaction to Merlin, when there is nothing in canon to support that framing.

If Morgana wants to talk to Merlin, she can come talk to him.  She knows Merlin is on her side.  She is shown to trust and appreciate Merlin without reservation at the end of 2.03.  And even if she had been shown to be spiraling into a bad place in 2.04-2.10 (which, as discussed above, is not the case) she could have come to Merlin at any time.  It is literally not Merlin's responsibility to pursue Morgana and press her to talk to him.  He has done his due diligence.  He makes sure she knows he is on her side, that he supports her, that he believes her, that he will never reveal her secret.  And she is shown to believe him when he says that.  If she needs him, she knows she can approach him.  And if she chooses not to do that - then that is on her.

This is a tough pill for even the in-universe characters to swallow, but Merlin is not responsible for the well-being of every single person in Camelot.  It is not his job to make sure that every single person in his orbit is 100% okay at all times.  It is not his job to read his friends' minds, or anticipate every single one of their needs, or to offer himself to them constantly, repeatedly, every time he has a spare moment, especially when they seem (like Morgana from 2.04 to 2.10) to be doing well.  Merlin has already been placed in a position where he is expected to devote almost all of his energy to serving someone else's interests.  When we expect him to also worry about and monitor and manage the health and happiness of all the other people around him, we are perpetuating the same damaging narrative for which we criticize characters like Kilgharrah, Gaius, etc - that everything is on Merlin, and if he can’t manage to juggle it all, then the negative consequences that ensue are his fault. 

A personal illustration of how this would play out in real life:

I live with my sister.  I am a pretty stoic person.  And when something is the matter, I sometimes don't tell her about it.  I just pretend like everything is fine.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would listen to me and support me if I ever came to her with a problem, but sometimes I don't do that.  And if that’s the choice I make, then that’s fine, but I have to take responsibility for it.  It's not okay for me to get angry and BLAME her for not helping me, when I never gave her any indication that I needed help in the first place.

So - flipping the narrative, what if we reframed the original statement to an equally loaded but equally accurate “post 2.03, Morgana just doesn't talk to Merlin.”  The two of them go through a harrowing experience together, where Merlin takes deadly risks to try to help Morgana escape Camelot and find her true self, where he offers his continuing support to her after it's over, and then she just never takes him up on that offer.  She retreats back into her comfortable position as Uther's noble ward, and stops associating with Arthur's lowly servant.  When Merlin helps save Gwen from the bandits in 2.04, Morgana never thanks him.  When Merlin is framed for theft by Catrina and hunted down, she doesn't stand up for him or try to help him.  When Gaius is arrested and tortured by the Witchfinder, she never stops by to see how Merlin is doing and check if he's okay.  When she's approached by a total stranger who wants her to steal a "weapon" for him, she doesn’t talk to Merlin at all, but rather agrees to steals the Crystal of Neahtid without ANY understanding of what it actually does or what Alvarr's plans are for it, leaving Merlin completely in the dark about why she's suddenly sneaking around acting so strange and suspicious.

Think back to Season One.  When Gwen is accused of sorcery and sentenced to death, Merlin confesses himself in order to save her.  Despite enjoying none of the protections Morgana has as Uther’s ward, Merlin still confesses himself in order to protect a friend.  But when Merlin is accused of sorcery in 2.07 (and when Gaius is then sentenced to be executed), Morgana does nothing comparable.  She just lets them take the fall.  Merlin allows himself (and Gaius) to be accused, even though he could easily have ratted Morgana out instead, and Morgana, despite knowing that Merlin is keeping silent to protect her at his own expense, never says a word to defend him, or approaches Merlin about it afterwards.  She sees Merlin dragged out of the Council Chambers screaming after Gaius is sentenced to death, but she says nothing.  She knows Gaius is going to be burnt at the stake, but she does nothing, not even making her usual appeal to Arthur.  

Does that mean we should assume that she was being negligent?  That she was abandoning Merlin when he needed her most?

For clarity - I'm not saying that the answer to that question is yes.  I’m saying that I’ve never seen anybody assign intention/bad faith to Morgana when it comes to her non-interaction with Merlin from 2.04 to 2.10 (even though that particular read is actually far more justified by the text).  There is no reason to assign intention to Merlin, either.

Ultimately, I just want us to be aware that saying “Merlin just doesn’t really talk to her again” inherently assigns agency and blame to an agentless fact.  Morgana and Merlin not being on screen together from 2.04 to 2.10 =/= "Merlin just doesn't really talk to her."  The phrase "Morgana just doesn't really talk to him" is an equally true statement, but one we don't hear nearly as often, because in the Merlin-verse, everything is Merlin's responsibility.  And therefore, when there’s a problem, everything is Merlin's fault.

2) “pre 2X03 he goes along with Gaius in pretending to not believe that her visions are true giving her the sleeping draughts”

Okay, this is just my own opinion, but - I personally think it is unreasonable for us to expect Merlin to correct every single bad choice that the people around him make, and it's unfair to transfer the blame for other people's choices onto his shoulders.

If Gaius is making bad choices prior to 2.03, then they are Gaius's bad choices.  Merlin, in 1.07, has just arrived in Camelot within the last couple of months.  Gaius has lived in Camelot all his life, and has been dealing with Morgana for two decades and Uther for longer than that.  Gaius is a trained physician.  He is in a position of authority over Merlin, and he has far more experience with the royal family than Merlin does, and when he tells Merlin that the safest thing for Morgana right now is to help her sleep through the night without having potentially-prophetic nightmares, of course Merlin listens to him. 

But five minutes into 2.03, immediately after Merlin learns that Morgana actually has magic (not just dream-visions, which this show states to be a separate gift) he is arguing with Gaius, saying that "you need to be honest with her."  At the fifteen minute mark, he is in Morgana's chambers telling her how to find the Druids.  

I cannot get on board with transferring blame that belongs to other people and dumping it all on Merlin's overburdened shoulders.  He directly defies Gaius's orders so that he can help Morgana, as soon as it becomes apparent how serious her situation is.  He leads Camelot's army on a chase through the woods in an attempt to help her run away, putting himself at extreme personal risk to do so.  How would he explain that, if he were caught?  If he were seen?

He does more to help her with her gift than anyone, and he puts himself at risk of discovery and execution to do it.  The standards to which we hold him, and the number of responsibilities we expect him to assume, and the ways we hold him accountable for choices that other people in positions of power have made, even when he ultimately corrects their mistakes - are impossibly unreasonable, and they certainly aren't the same standards we use to evaluate Morgana’s actions.

3) “while I don't think Merlin owed outing himself to anyone IMO was a really nasty undercurrent in the writing of ‘crazy/hysterical woman with her volatile lady feelings can't be trusted’ even after he's known her for like a year compared to Lancelot, Gilli, Daegel etc. being a-okay.”

Comparing Morgana to Lancelot, Gilli, and Daegal as a way of saying that Merlin underrates Morgana's trustworthiness in favor of theirs doesn't make sense.

Merlin doesn't choose to out himself to Lancelot at all.  It's an accident.  

Merlin doesn't choose to out himself to Daegal, either.  He's put in a situation where it's either "use magic" or "we both die."

Gilli has a little more wiggle room in terms of "was this an active decision on Merlin's part," but it's also not accurate to interpret this situation as arising out of Merlin's personal desires/level of trust in Gilli as a person.   Merlin reveals himself because he feels like it is the only way to get through to someone who is going to get themselves killed looking for revenge.  (And I've written previously about how I think Merlin's choices in this situation are in fact directly influenced by the decisions he didn't make with Morgana, and how making the opposite choice here in an attempt to "do the ‘right’ thing this time" doesn't actually change the ultimate outcome, but that's neither here nor there.)

None of these three instances are moments where Merlin looks at these characters and goes, “these people seem way more trustworthy than that crazy, volatile lady i know; i’m gonna reveal myself to them!"  He is forced into all of these situations, against his will, and is outed either by accident or necessity.

Additionally - the above is really the more important counterpoint, but I do think it's worth mentioning that Morgana, as far as the closeness of her relationship with Merlin goes, also can't be meaningfully compared with the other three characters on this list because her position as a noble places her in a totally different category altogether.

Merlin legitimately likes Morgana in the early seasons, and he's thrilled to be her friend.  But Merlin is also class-conscious - he has to be, given his position in society; and moreover he's spent the first twenty years of his life being best friends with a dude who is both hyperaware of and hypervocal about the inequalities of the current social system.  Merlin is ALWAYS aware that Morgana is on a different level than he is, and he is perfectly justified in being slightly more reticent around people who aren't cut from his own cloth, in the same way he is justified in being slightly more careful around Arthur, who also leverages his power and privilege whenever "equality" becomes inconvenient for him.

Take the comparison between Lancelot and Morgana, for example.  Merlin has known Lancelot for slightly less time than Morgana (Merlin meets Lancelot in 1.05), but he cleaves to Lancelot more quickly, and it is only natural that Merlin would do so.  Merlin is a peasant farmer.  He is literally as low on the social ladder as you can get without being one of the itinerant poor.  Morgana is, in essence, a princess, and Merlin isn't wrong for feeling more comfortable around Lancelot than he is around her, because Morgana, for all that she is generous-minded with the servants, is SO far above the level of people Merlin is used to associating with, and she has SO much more influence than he does - it's a power differential that can't be erased, no matter how friendly Morgana is with him.  And it’s a dynamic that isn't limited to Morgana, either - it exists between Merlin and Arthur, too.  

This is an element of the show that I don't necessarily see discussed often when it comes to Morgana and Merlin (and Gwen, for that matter), and most of the time it seems to be ignored in favor of like...“Morgana doesn't see class!  She's friends with Gwen and she's friends with Merlin!"  And I'm not disputing that she considers herself to be friends with them at first, but I also am not going to pretend that she doesn't then weaponize her class against them as soon as the situation changes.

In S3, she leverages her privileged position to threaten Merlin with execution if he tries to reveal her misdeeds, because she knows that no one will believe a servant even if he tells the truth ("Just think how Uther would react if he learnt that a serving boy had tried to poison his beloved ward").  She is horrified at her vision of Gwen taking the throne in 3.10, saying "How can that be?  She's a servant."  She mockingly calls Gwen "My lady" when capturing her in 5.06, and, when offering Gwen a drink of water, says, "Is it too good for you now that you're queen?"  She scathingly criticizes Helios’s capture of Merlin in 4.06, saying, "And you bring me how many men?  Or should I say how many servants?"  She tells Merlin, "You are Arthur's servant, nothing more" later in that same episode.  She dispenses with all semblances of equality with Gwen in late Season 2 whenever Gwen's in the way, instead snapping at her, ordering her around, and booting her out of the room.  And in "The Dark Tower," she drags Gwen behind her on a rope.

Morgana in the early seasons is committed to an "I'm not going to lord my social status over my lower-class friends!" attitude.  But that doesn't mean her social status doesn’t exist, or that the power differential has vanished.  And when the chips are down - when Morgana feels like she's getting less than she "deserves" but her former servants are getting more than they themselves do - she falls back on the power she has as a noble.  The ways in which Morgana interacts with Merlin and Gwen, after Morgana's falling out with Camelot, don't manifest as just "you betrayed me and we're not friends anymore," they express themselves in ways that specifically target Merlin and Gwen's "lowly" status, in comparison to Morgana's lofty one.

4) “I also hate the Merlin and Gaius talk in 2X12 where they more or less write her off as using her powers for eviiiiil when she hadn't consciously used her powers for ANYTHING yet.”

I suppose this could be subject to personal interpretation, but I’m pretty sure Gaius and Merlin think Morgana was consciously aware that she was the source of the magic.

They don't know that she wasn't consciously involved.  The audience doesn't even know that, frankly.  What Morgana is actually aware of is left undefined by the show.  (I personally always got the vibe that Morgana obviously knows it has something to do with the agreement she and Morgause made, but that she doesn't exactly understand the details of how it's working.)  But that's still never actually stated.

Merlin, (after Kilgharrah tells him the magic is coming from Morgana), assumes she is aware of what's happening.  And I personally think it’s impressive that even given this, he covers for her the entire episode.  At first he doesn't even suspect she has anything to do with it at all, not even after what she did in the previous ep - he makes up that story about Gaius having given her a potion to cover for her, assuming her magic is what's keeping her awake.  It's not until Kilgharrah tells him what's going on that he realizes the truth, and EVEN THEN, he continues to lie for her.  

If she was afraid - if she was in over her head - if she regretted her actions and wanted to change her mind - she could have confessed to Merlin and asked him for help.  Literally everyone in Camelot was incapacitated, and as far as Merlin knew, Morgana’s plan was to let them all die.  It's not that I'm happy about Merlin's choice to poison her, and neither is Merlin - but I'm also not comfortable blaming him to the exclusion of Morgana or critiquing him for feeling like Morgana did something bad.  She did do something bad!  She made her own choices.  Merlin didn't make them for her.  

Erasing Morgana’s responsibility erases her agency.  She makes decisions to get where she is in 2.12.  She makes an agreement to help Morgause without doing her research and without getting the details about what would actually happen to the people around her, just like she made an agreement to help Alvarr retrieve the Crystal of Neahtid without finding out what it actually was or how Alvarr planned to use it.  Merlin didn't make Morgana do any of those things.  

Re: the Merlin+Gaius talk in 2.12 - I personally don't read that conversation with Gaius as Merlin "writing [Morgana] off."  

Merlin doesn't think Morgana is irredeemably evil.  He apologizes to Morgana when she returns in 3.01.  Even when she displays shame and self-recrimination about her own actions, he doesn't say one word condemning her for anything she did in the last season.  All he feels is sympathy for her suffering.  He tells her, sincerely, "I am so sorry for everything you've been through."  He holds absolutely no grudge for what she did in 2.12.  None.  

And even when he finds out she's betraying them again - he first approaches her as a friend.  He begs her to stop.  He tells her, "It doesn't have to be like this.  We can find another way."  He answers "no" when she asks him if he believes she deserves to be executed for who she is.  Even as she's trying to kill them all.

And when she snaps, "Good!" in response to his statement that women and children are dying and the city will fall, he responds, "You don't mean that."  That is not the response of someone who's already written her off as evil.  He doesn't believe she wants all this violence.  He is trying to reach her.

She doesn't ever reach back.  And that is not Merlin's fault.

5) kilgharrah indiscriminately kills people

I don't think I can really address Kilgharrah in any meaningful way, because personally I don’t feel like dragons operate on or can be evaluated by human moral standards.  Other folks can take a different tack with this, obviously; there's no canon information one way or another.  That's just my own personal approach.

6) “[Kilgharrah] and Merlin are bros again by 3X02 but Morgause and Morgana and Kara killing knights and guards (who work for Uther/Arthur) are OMG murderers, have crossed a line, etc.”

Okay, look, let’s be honest here - this issue is a real philosophical question raised by the show, but Morgause and Morgana are not just killing knights and guards.  Morgana, with Morgause at her right hand, literally orders her crossbowmen to murder a bunch of civilians in the street, as if shooting fish in a barrel.  She tells her forces to “burn [the people’s] crops.”  She raids Ealdor, a poor peasant village that isn’t even within Camelot’s borders, at the end of Season 4, and at the beginning of Season 5, Morgana’s Saxon army is attacking innocent peasant villages in Annis’s kingdom and capturing the villagers to be taken as slave labor to Ismere.  Later in Season 5, Morgana kills other magic-users like Finna and Alator, who have been just as wronged by Arthur/Uther as she herself has been.

Kara - I've already written extensively about how she did nothing wrong and Arthur deserved to be deposed, so...same page there!

To wrap this up -

Nobody does everything right in this show.  Everybody screws up somewhere.  And the degree to which various people are both victims and villains is something we all have to decide for ourselves, and not all of our conclusions will be the same, which is perfectly fine.

But in the end, for me, the difference between Merlin and Morgana is that Merlin owns his choices.  He believes he is the one to blame for what happens not just to him, but to the people around him.  He literally says to Morgana, "I blame myself for what you've become."  And while I don't necessarily think that's even true, he certainly does.  Despite the fact that there are so many factors limiting him and forcing his hand and trapping him into certain courses of action, he never cites those factors as excuses, or seems to recognize their existence at all.  He takes responsibility for himself, regardless of any extenuating circumstances.  He looks back at his choices, and he feels remorse for some of them, and at the end of the day, when things go badly, he blames himself.  

But when things go badly for Morgana, she only ever blames others.  When something is wrong, it's because Merlin or Arthur or Gwen or whoever didn't help her (even though she never asked them for help in the first place.)  We never see her acknowledge a mistake or regret a decision, even though she obviously makes her fair share of bad ones.  She is never shown to be sorry for anything.  The closest we get to remorse is her interaction with Mordred in 5.09 ("I hope one day you find the love and compassion which used to fill your heart"), and that brief moment of inner conflict never goes anywhere (which is so unfortunate, as a writing decision, but again, in a piece like this, I can only evaluate what actually happened onscreen, not what I wish had happened).

So, all this being said, I personally am very careful about assigning more blame to Merlin than what he already assigns to himself - especially when he doesn't deserve it (for example, see Part 1 of this piece).  Merlin makes his share of mistakes, but we are generally much quicker to hold him accountable than we are Morgana, and we outline impossible expectations for him that we don't expect from any other character on this show.  We hold him to a different standard, one which is, frankly, pretty much in line with how he's treated in the canon: that everything is his responsibility, and when things don't work out, everything is his fault.  And I can’t get behind that mindset, because a) it isn’t fair to him, and b) I don’t think it holds up under scrutiny.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Twitter has basically begun a crusade for crucifixion of a group of girls who have gone to Harry’s shows. One girl tested positive for covid the day after the Las Vegas show (allegedly negative the day before but 🤷‍♀️), and immediately did what she could to get the word out. The internet did what the internet does and found a few other girls who were pictured all massless in a group with her, and who have since gone to the Denver show. All of Twitter has engaged in this super weird, very aggressive attack on these girls - everything from tweets begging them to wear a mask and stop going to shows, threatening them if they don’t wear masks, insulting them, and (perhaps strangest of all to me) attempting to guilt them using the possibility that they’ll get Harry sick and/or get either Sarah and Mitch sick who will give it to the baby. Now I acknowledge Twitter isn’t always the most sane or rational place, but all of this has been a bit confusing to me. What are they trying to accomplish? What do they think they’re actually accomplishing? Did they really believe every single person who went to Harry’s shows would behave with integrity and wear a mask the whole time and/or skip a show if they thought they might have been exposed prior to it? That’s maybe the most concerning to me, because I worry it means a whole lot of people have very, very incorrect ideas about their true level of risk attending these shows. I have pit tickets to one, but I am under no delusions that every single person in the pit with me will be behaving as an angel. That someone, or more likely multiple someones in the pit would be covid positive and would at some point go maskless regardless of the rules was one of the factors I took into consideration when I decided to go to my show. The morality policing really bothers me, too, because it always seems to turn so quickly from “you might get Harry or Mitch and Sarah or the baby sick” to “every single one of you is a horrible person for going to shows in the first place you careless monsters,” and then devolving into these arbitrary rules like no one should ever go to more than one show, or if you have to travel at all outside your hometown for a show don’t go to it. There has also been lots of proposing other risk reduction measures that don’t make sense to me practically, like testing every single ticket holder - great in theory. Practically a nightmare. As I’m getting to the end of this ask I’m realizing it doesn’t really have a point - just that when I saw all this unfold I thought about you, and the way you’ve laid out a framework to analyze the real risk of going to a show like this, which have really helped me think about my own show, and which I wish more people could have seen. Hope you’re well!

Thanks for this anon (I'm finally heading back to some anons from earlier in the tour that I'm really interested in). It's lovely that you say that the way I lay out the risk has helped you.

After I started reading this I read an article about wellness and vaccine denial and the tag line was: 'The randomness of illness is far too frightening for many to contemplate – so they rely on a fiction they’re special and can control their bodies' And that's something we see everywhere - including people loudly insisting that if everyone wore masks we'd know that Mitch and Sarah's baby wouldn't get sick.

The discussion seems to me to be deep in denial about what is known about COVID. In particular, that screaming for an hour, inside, surrounded by other people who are also screaming, is pretty high up there on the most COVID-unsafe activities. Masks reduce the risk (although given how intensely aeorsol friendly screaming is - nobody can be sure how much). But an intervention can reduce the risk and there can still be lots of risk. It's so important that people don't do scream for a long time around other people, unless they accept the full range of risks of what they're doing, including the risk that they might infect other people, even if they're vaccinated, even if they're wearing a mask the entire time.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about what people are doing when they say 'think about Mitch and Sarah's baby'. There's the straight racism of worrying about a white baby (COVID isn't even likely to be the most risky virus for a baby in the arena) when there's a black man with breathing problems on stage. But there's a clear purpose to all of that - which is the moralistic worldview. The baby isn't just vulnerable, but innocence, and by invoking innocence the outraged tweeters are suggesting someone's guilty.

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

In general, 'people just need to be better' is a terrible public health and political response. And what I need to remind myself is that's true of people dealing with their COVID anxiety by seeking certainty when there is none, as well as suggesting perfect masking could stop spread in high risk environments.

While I'm very tempted when faced with this sort of material to rage against what a ridiculous view of risk it is (and I usually give into temptation), it's far more useful to acknowledge that wanting certainty is a really normal response. The last year and a half has been incredibly stressful for so many people. And many people have been left in situations where there's insufficient support, completely untrustworthy communication and absolutely terrified.

The people who are anxious on twitter probably come by at least some of their anxiety honestly. (Although how much of the anxiety is about Harry as opposed to COVID is an open question). And so I do think it's worth saying: 'the situation is really scary, but yelling and trying to control other people won't make you safer, or make the situation less controlling and scary'. But that sort of response if you can suggest something less damaging that people can do and I don't know enough about the US to know what would help (I'm guessing anything that takes vaccines and good information to where people are - and it's worth praising Harry's team for what they're doing along those lines).

So I do have one final answer to a question you didn't ask anon. You say 'twitter' and 'all of twitter' in your ask. I think it's useful to conciously reject that framing. What you saw was being done by some accounts. There were lots of people who thought differently, or didn't care, but you didn't see them because they didn't post. People who say things can end up taking up a disproportionate space in our awareness, because we can't see silence.

I'm sure they've moved on to some absurd other policing now (a few days ago it owuld have been signs, I'm not sure what people are engaging with now). Which shows that a lot of it wasn't about COVID and also that it's worth actively not trying to allow it to grow bigger in importance than it actually is.

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 8

WARNING. HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Richie watched as the sun sank steadily towards the horizon, lighting the sky red, orange, yellow, begging the clock to tick just a bit quicker so he could be free from his job. Britney and Mason, douchebag 1 and douchebag 2, were chattering away like hormone-driven starlings right behind him rather than wiping down the counters like they probably should have been. It was 30 minutes until his shift was up and the flow of customers had more than ebbed by now. Normally, Richie wouldn't want his shift to ever end; normally meant he had Bev or Ben at his side to keep him from drowning himself in the backroom sink. Tonight, neither were here, so he was stuck with the two preppy assholes he was so desperately trying to tune out. On any other occasion the music leaking from the tinny speakers would have been enough to get him through the day, but tonight things were different and the radio was instead tuned to bark out the score of some sports game Richie couldn't care less about but had the one or two patrons (who were already served and seated) tilting one ears towards the sound in interest. If given the chance Richie would have been just fine talking with Britney and Mason; he didn't like them, not really, but his big mouth was begging to run after almost a straight 45 minutes of near-silence and professionalism, and the problem was that they didn't seem too fond of talking to him.

And so, Richie simply stood. And waited. And grew more and more bored out of his mind. His fingers began to drum against his chin which was rested on the palm of his left hand which was- in turn- propped up by his elbow on the slightly-sticky surface of the counter. He fought the urge to tap his foot and he fought the urge to hum or dance or bop his head all because he didn't think he could stand knowing the other two would judge him for it. Judgement wasn't often something that bothered him but the memories of last night's talk with Beverly kept trying to pop up into his brain. Yes, that was another reason he was desperate for something to do- Richie just couldn't stop thinking about that talk. The door to the cafe popped open and, golly, it was Richie's lucky day- in stepped one bite-sized brunette with a tentative scowl on his face full of freckles. Just like that, Richie perked up again, his smile splitting his face right in two and his stomach beginning a circus performance consisting of backflips and pirouettes.

"Well, wouldja lookit that!" Snapping his fingers, Richie leaned forwards and across the counter to greet Eddie with his bright eyes, "Spaghetti-man, welcome! Just in time, I was tempted to throw myself into one of the ovens!" Eddie's scowl vanished and instead came a confused little grin that looked pretty goofy and melted away the last of any problems the world had to face.

"Christ, Rich, that's a little dramatic," Eddie pulled up to the counter and began to say something else but, well, Richie was a little distracted taking in the sight of him alone. It had been nearly 24 hours since they'd interacted and, after his little talk with Bev, Richie couldn't really get Eddie out of his mind. Fitted in a fluffy coral-toned knitted sweater and a pair of black jeans, he was looking adorable. Imagining Eddie with some accessory like a bracelet or black nails was even cuter- suddenly, Richie felt very much like Bev said she did whenever she went digging through his wardrobe. Eddie quirked a brow and snapped Richie right out of his thoughts.

"Sorry? What was that? My head's still a lil' out of it tonight," He straightened his back, blinking his scattered thoughts away and cracking his knuckles as if he were being thrown into a cage match, "Can I get you something to drink? To eat? A seat at the bar, maybe? I could use someone to talk to, I feel like I'm going crazy around here," As he said 'crazy' Richie spun a finger around his temple, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I actually just came by to say hello, since... y'know. The party and... and all that shit. We had a deal, didn't we?" Eddie took up Richie's offer for a barstool, leaping up onto it and folding his hands on the counter. He glared down at the tabletop as he spoke, bashful. It warmed Richie's heart and he smiled even wider, clasping his hands and holding them up to the side of his face; his eyelashes battered wildly and then he was the Southern Belle.

"Well, my oh my, ain't you a doll? Stoppin' by just to get a glance at lil' ole' me?" With another roll of his eyes (that seemed to be an Eddie Kaspbrak trademark) Eddie finally looked up again and rested his cheek on one hand.

"I regret it now, Trashmouth. You're gonna make my ears bleed." Laughing, Richie spun on his heel, briefly catching Britney and Mason's gazes and then went straight for the cups to whip up a signature drink for his friend, even if it was against company policy both to create anything original and to give out anything without it being paid for. Who gives a shit, Richie thinks to himself, and gets right to it.

"How's a mocha sound, Eddie Spaghetti?"

"It's- It's fine, but how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Especially not with, like-" Eddie didn't need to finish his sentence, nor did Richie have to actually see him to know he was passing discreet glances at the two coworkers most likely listening in. Eddie was embarrassed about his silly little nickname. Challenge accepted- Richie had plenty of those. Flipping switches, tapping buttons, spinning around the kitchen with practiced ease, Richie pumped out a perfect dark chocolate mocha with steamed vanilla milk and caramel sauce drizzled artistically across the mountain of whipped cream on the top. It was a masterpiece- no surprise there.

"And here you are, Eduardo." the cup was set down and Eddie gave Richie an awkward, thankful smile. "Enjoy it- and here, dip one of these in it," Sliding open one side of the bakery treats display case Richie pulled out a slice of banana bread, "It's fantastic. Like, seriously, Eds. Ten out of fucking ten."

"When did your shift start today? I didn't know you worked," Eddie's cheeks flushed a soft red thanks to his own curiosity and he hid it with a sip from his drink. Richie shrugged,

"Nine. I was exhausted. Had to steal a coffee or two throughout the course of the day like the rebel I am." Richie reached up, popping the collar of today's brightly coloured shirt (pink, blue, yellow, purple, an amalgamation of triangles and circles and squares) and hunching his shoulders in, grimacing dramatically and sauntering back and forth like a biker dude who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and loved the road more than anything else, "I run 'gainst the law, dawg," Eddie cracked a toothy smile and let out a dancing chuckle, "I rob gas 'tations and pick pockets for a livin'," Richie reached a hand up and began to fuss with his hair in an attempt to transform it into an impromptu mullet. Bringing the attention towards his curls Eddie's face screwed up but his smile still lingered.

"You need a fuckin' haircut, dude, like- wow. It's like a whole mop, Richie," And then Eddie's eyes grew wide and he recoiled, "Did you make my drink with that mane exposed? What if- what if you got your stupid hair in it? You know you're committing a guideline 37 health code violation? It's literally against the law not to wear a hair net, you know. And did you wash your hands?" Richie flipped his collar back down as Eddie spoke, letting out a huff and stumbling over to the sink to jam his hands under the faucet. "I heard people's hands carry up to almost five million different kinds of bacteria. You'd better not be putting that into people's-" Richie's hands now soaking wet, he lifted them and flicked them violently in Eddie's direction. The shorter boy cut himself off and let out a startled cry as he was assaulted by these droplets of water, half-jumping-half-falling out of his chair to scramble out of range. "You asshole! This sweater is a gift from my mom you know, and it could get damaged or-" Someone in the shop barked out a hissing 'shhh!' and Eddie went silent, his face bright red.

"The patrons request silence, my lo- friend, jeezly-crow," Richie dried his hands on the towel just near the sink, acting like he hadn't almost called Eddie 'my love' (he only didn't say it because of his coworkers and Eddie's pride) and returned to standing across from him. As soon as he was near enough Eddie delivered a half-assed punch to his forearm that was more teasing than actually harmful.

"That was quite the show," Britney, for once in her life, regarded Richie with a glitter of amusement in her eyes, and then glanced over at Eddie who was now smiling sheepishly and clearly dreading meeting a new person. Britney stuck out a hand, "Nice to meet you... Eduardo, was it?"

"Ah- Eddie, actually, my name is Eddie- Richie is just... just stupid sometimes, sorry," Rapidly, Eddie wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and took Britney's hesitantly within his own. Only Richie noticed the way his brows flicked a little closer together- Eddie was uncomfortable. That much was obvious.

"It's part of my charm, isn't-"

"Oh my God, I know, right? He's such a goofball!" With a horribly dopey grin, Britney pushed at Richie's shoulder and let out a high-pitched titter, "Imagine having to work with him every day!" Both boys let out an awkward chuckle, sharing a glance that said a multitude of different things; Who the hell is this chick? and Well she's just a little rude. and Can she maybe leave us alone? and many, many other things as well. "So, Eds- can I call you that?-" Britney didn't give him a chance to protest even though he wanted to, "How long have you and Richard been friends? How'd you meet him?" Britney leaned in just beside Richie, basically elbow to elbow as she crossed her arms and leaned into them to- oh- everything clicks together just like that, just as Britney uses her arms to push her chest higher. She was trying (and, well, failing, frankly) to flirt with Eddie. It seems that the asthmatic has yet to notice.

"Well, I... Not long, we just met a little over a week ago, I guess. It's actually kind of funny we-"

"Only a week?" Britney batted her lashes and Richie debated on telling her that her interrupting was not a good flirting technique, "But you two seem so close already! Gosh, I'd have guessed you two were high school friends at least!"

"Nope," Richie interjected before she could continue, "Just new friends. He's great, I'm great- that makes double great- Anyhow, Britney, we should let him enjoy his drink shouldn't-"

"Quite the mouth on him, huh?" Somehow, impossibly, Richie had failed to get her attention. Demanding all eyes on him was his specialty, but it was as if Britney had garnered some sort of tunnel vision, like a race horse with blinders perched on either side of it's head. Flirt racing. Place your bets. Richie felt a flame of jealousy and immediately squashed it down, feeling like some bitchy schoolgirl. "Chatter chatter chatter, all day long. How do you deal with it?"

"I don't, usually," Eddie was fiddling with the hem of one sleeve, his cheeks puffed out lightly in irritation. Who knew one man could have so much patience. "I... Well, I kind of like the chatter, actually. My own thoughts race so fast, it's cool to finally have someone who can keep up with them." Shrugging, Eddie turns to Richie and opens his mouth to speak, but, what a surprise, Britney beats him to it.

"I'm sure I could keep up with them, hon, if you gave me the chance," Britney let one eye fall down in a wink and Eddie gaped, frozen. His face drained of colour, a ghastly white that highlighted each and every one of his freckles- then it flooded red and he gripped the sides of the counter, looking at Richie again but this time as a silent plea, a save me oh my God- "What's your number?" She smiled, her rose red lips curling up in a way that could only be described as evil, "Or I can give you mine. I'd like to get to know you better." One part of Richie wanted to let this play out just because it was such a wonderful opportunity to watch Eddie flounder. The other part, the moral part, was screaming at him to intervene.

"Oh- I, I uh- I'm so-sorry I don't-" Eddie's tongue was tied. He swallowed hard and shook his head, his breath beginning to come in hitches, "I- I'm not interested I'm s-sorry if you got the- the wrong idea or-"

"Oh, come on, pretty please?" Britney leaned in closer and Eddie leaned away. "With a cherry on top? I promise it'll be fun-"

"Fuck off, Brit, he said no," Richie tried to keep his tone level, knowing that if he didn't his jealousy would show, but it seems he wasn't firm enough and that Britney didn't quite get the message. Eddie was still shaking his head, patting at his pockets as if searching for something, something to get him out of this more than awkward situation and turning up empty handed.

"We can maybe go to dinner tomorrow night or something like that, I'm a pretty fun girl when you get to-"

"Britney, that's enough!" Slamming one hand down on the countertop and raising his voice, all eyes turned to him- even those of the patrons, though this time no one hissed out a shush. After a beat of silence, Richie continued with a calmer tone, "You're clearly making him uncomfortable, I think you should just get to wiping down the counters or something so we can start closing up," Someone behind Richie scoffed; Mason. His other coworker. Rounding on him, Richie crossed his arms, trying to look somewhat intimidating in the face of this super-jock. "What's your problem, huh?"

"Well, I just think your little friend there's really makin' a mistake," Mason shifted his weight onto one foot, peering around Richie and staring the poor flustered Eds straight in the eye, "She really is a great chick, and... Well, you look like you could use a ride like her." Eddie's jaw dropped and his face went redder. He looked as if he were about to pass out, and Richie was stunned all the same.

"Jesus Christ, man, you can't just say that! What the hell's wrong with you?" Richie took a step forwards, glaring even harder but Mason wasn't deterred, wasn't afraid, was still dead set on either picking on Eddie or maybe actually attempting to give some sort of skewed advice.

"She'll do nearly anything you want if you ask nice," Britney was smiling though she looked a little stunned herself by this show of boldness, "And it seems she likes you, too. You're her type- short, thin, kinda... well, kinda girly to be honest," Eddie stared down at the tabletop, fighting to control his erratic breathing and seeming to have given up on patting his pockets for- oh shit, his inhaler. Was Eddie having an asthma attack?

"Mason, you fucking idiot, give it a rest. Eddie isn't interested. Leave him the fuck alone!" Richie was growing irritated- something about Mason felt off today. Usually the boy didn't outright pick on other people, he was always at least subtle about it.

"Oh, shit-" Mason let out a little chuckle, and stepped around Richie to approach the counter, "Unless- wait, unless you're not into her?" Richie was so close to slamming a fist across Mason's stupid face. After years of not understanding why everyone called his own face punchable, Richie finally got it. Some people just looked like good boxing practice.

"No fucking shit Sherlock of course he isn't into-"

"Unless you're some sort of fairy?"

Oh, the silence that followed this statement was suffocating. It was as if a thick blanket of quiet had throttled the room; Eddie's hitching breaths had stopped- in fact, so had his breathing altogether. His eyes had hollowed out, his face had lost all colour for good this time, and his shoulders had jumped up to his ears. Britney's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide, breath stolen away in a more figurative sense. Richie was entirely and utterly shocked. He had known Mason wasn't the ideal fella. He cheated on girlfriends and drank too much and stole things, but this- this was... more than Richie had expected. It took a lot for Richie to dislike someone and he disliked both him and sort of Britney for quite the big book of reasons; but downright homophobia was not in his book until today.

"What. The fuck." Richie's voice had gone low, dangerously low. Mason turned to face him instead, his eyes dancing with quite the colorful array of emotions yet somehow appearing haunted, dead, all at the same time. If Richie had to get all poetic and describe it he'd say those eyes were reminiscent of an ocean- chaotic in the crashing of the waves, and yet endlessly empty. He was smiling wide. Proud. Like a shark. Eddie was still silent.

"Maybe I've got things wrong, maybe that was wrong," Mason held his hands up defensively, and Richie made the mistake of letting him continue, "Maybe... Well maybe he's not a fairy." A pause, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, "Maybe you are, Tozier. Maybe you're the little fag-"

"Shut up, Mason. Just shut the hell up." Mason leaned in, arms crossed, smile smug,

"You know, as sick as you are, it doesn't even surprise me." From Richie's right there was a gasp, a choked sound reminiscent of some form of words.

"Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God-"

"I probably should have realized sooner, to be entirely honest. I mean, your hair, your clothes, your stupid nails and your stupider voices-"

"Richie- Richie I-" Richie's head was spinning with red hot rage. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, his teeth gritted tightly.

"You don't know a single thing about me you asshole,"

"I guess it's possible both you and your friend here mingle with that crowd, huh? Maybe the- Oh Jesus, maybe the reason you're so defensive is because the two of you are, like, boning or-" And, that was the final fucking straw. Richie didn't register his hands flying out to shove, hard, at Mason's chest until the boy was stumbling backwards, right over Britney taking them both to the ground. Richie was taller than Mason. Mason was heavier than Richie. With the right momentum, the right force and angle, he could- and did- send Mason almost flying.

"You're a fucking pig, you know that? Jesus- and to think I might actually, one day, maybe be able to tolerate your obnoxious ass here at work?"

"Rich- I c-can't-"

"Wow, I was naïve! Do you have a single scrap of human decency in that tiny frocking brain of yours or are you only powered by fucking and alcohol?"

"R-Richie! I-"

"Well guess fucking what, you dog? I've got quite the gift for-"

"Richie!!" Just as Richie was about to spit right onto Mason's stupid face Eddie dragged him out of his furious haze with a choking wheeze. His head snapped right, gluing onto Eddie's trembling form; one hand was grasping at his throat, the other supporting him on the countertop, shaky, pale. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked positively awful with his mouth open wide and his chest heaving painfully up and down. "Rich- I- I-I-I c-ca-can't breathe I-"

"Shit, Eds, I'm so sorry," Richie didn't waste a second in hopping over the counter, tearing off his work apron and tossing it to the floor, discarding his anger with it, "Come on, let's go, let's get you some fresh air okay? We can hurry to your place and get your inhaler, yeah?" Despite the hate, the disgust, Richie couldn't care less about how he must have looked as he took Eddie's hand and began to drag him to the door, half-drunken mocha and quarter of banana bread left for the other two to clean up. On their way out Richie was almost certain he heard one last snide comment, some slur, but his only focus right now was Eddie and the way he was sucking in rasping breaths like a drowning man. Rich shoved the door open with one shoulder, holding it ajar and letting Eddie pass by, resting a hand on his back as he did so and beginning to steer him down the sidewalk in no particular direction. "Where's your house? What's your address? Should I call Bill or Stan or- We have to get you to your inhaler, don't we?" Cowering like a hurt puppy, Eddie shrunk into Richie's side, still gripping and clawing and gasping. "W-What do I do where do I go what-"

"No-" Eddie forced the words out through gritted teeth, shaking his head and holding up a single finger- just give me a minute. The two came to a halt underneath the golden glow of a streetlamp just recently lit. The sky was a dark purple now, growing into blue.

"Eddie, don't you need you inhaler?" He shook his head again, and Richie screwed his brows together, "But your asthma, we can't risk it we should just-"

"NO, Rich- Just-" Eddie gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, "Just give me a- a fucking minute!" Richie shrunk away, pulling his arms to his chest and taking a tentative step back. Eddie turned, hiding his face, and continued to sputter, refusing Richie's help and planting one hand over his eyes and forehead. A minute passed- Richie tried to suggest once more that the inhaler was the safest option. Eddie denied it with another string of breaths and curses. At last, an agonizing three minutes later, the rise and fall of Eddie's chest grew steadier.

"Are... Are you sure you're alright? I... I don't know how asthma works but I don't think ignoring it is healthy." Risking being yelled at again Richie stepped forwards and placed a soft hand on Eddie's frail shoulder. For one quick moment those big brown eyes stared up at him and then they flicked away, down to their shoes instead. The smaller boy's ears burned red with shame.

"I don't-" Eddie scoffed, "I don't fucking- I don't fucking have asthma okay? I'm fine. I just- need to- calm the hell down."

"You- what? You don't have asthma? Then what was all that stuff at the party-"

"It was nothing, okay? It was just my stupid brain being all messed up! It's not asthma, jackass, so just- let it go, please. Jesus," Eddie shook off Richie's hand and took a few steps back, one hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He started to pace. "I can't believe that guy, what an asshole! And that girl, I just-" He cried out incoherently, too frustrated to piece together another phrase, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I really am. I don't know what got into them- Mason especially, he isn't usually that bad and I... Well, that wasn't cool. Something was wrong about him tonight and- fuck," Richie brought his hands up to his face, underneath his glasses to scrub it vigorously, "I don't know, man, I'm so sorry." When Richie's hands fell again Eddie was looking at him, one hand on his hip, the other pressed against his chest, concerned. A pause.

"Are you okay?"

"What...? Of course I am, I'm not the one who almost choked on-"

"Then what the fuck did you think you were doing in there?" Eddie surged forwards and, this time, pushed Richie with both hands, though the outcome was very different and Richie hardly budged.

"Woah woah Eds what-"

"He could have hit you! Are you stupid or something? That guy would have had your fucking neck snapped before you could even do anything about it and you were just going to let it happen because he said some nasty shit to me?" Again, Eddie thumped a fist into Richie's chest, and then another.

"Of course Eddie he can't just-"

"People have said that shit to me all my life, Richie, you don't have to go risking your stupid neck because of it!" This time Richie caught Eddie by the wrist before his shove could connect, and then caught the other hand right after, holding them tight, "Let me go, Richie I can't deal with you being like this right now it's like you're not even listening to me and-"

"Eddie, calm down you're gonna throw yourself into another fit!"

"I'm okay, asshole, I'm not gonna break down and die right here and now because I'm angry at you! I-I get angry all the time I'm not some child- I-" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, and then he spat out the words coated in acid, "You don't get to act all 'night in shining armor' just because some airheaded asshole wants to tell me what's good for me! I can take care of myself and I fucking hate it when people treat me like some stupid kid!" Eddie was gasping again, though this time he kept his mouth shut tight, trying to hide that he was struggling. He looked furious and terrified and hurt, a trio of emotion that Richie never wanted to see on his face again. Richie let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting go of Eddie's wrists. As soon as he did Eddie crossed his arms and took a step back, averting his gaze. The tips of his ears were burning brighter.

"I... Eddie, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to- to belittle you or talk down to you or anything like that. I just saw that you were getting badmouthed and I acted before I could really think."

"That doesn't surprise me, Trashmouth, you seem to be a little fucking impulsive." His voice strained, it was evident that Eddie was trying to reign in his temper, his 'asthma' already calming down once more. "Just... just please let me handle myself in the future. I can do it, I swear,"

"Yeah, I... I know you can. You're," Richie chuckled, and punched Eddie weakly, tentatively in the shoulder, "You're all sorts of spunk in one tiny package," Allowing himself to grin just for a split second Eddie slapped offense onto his face and wore a pout that would better fit a toddler.

"Are you calling me short? That's real low, Rich, that's just-"

"Low, is it? Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

"Oh- fuck you!" Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away to conceal his smile as Richie let out his bright cackling, ripping through the silence of the night in a way that was more pleasant than Eddie thought possible. "God, you're just such an asshole, I hope you know that," He jabbed out an accusatory finger and Richie shot up his hands in mock surrender as if that finger were a gun.

"Don't shoot!" He hollered, stumbling a step back, "I have a wife and kids to get back to!" Eddie laughed, dropping his hand, and just barely stopped himself from asking if Richie had a husband to get back to instead. That was a can of worms for another day.

"I'm exhausted now thanks to you. You're like a baby, always whining and shit. Come on, Stan works and Bill's probably asleep by now. Wanna come watch a movie or something? I think we have a copy of Die Hard lying around." Eddie began to walk back in the direction of the cafe- Richie had taken the complete wrong path in their hasty escape- waving one hand for him to follow. Richie was now beaming, knowing just what to say to (hopefully) piss off Eddie even more.

"Oh, awesome! My favourite Christmas movie!" Eddie spun on him. Mission accomplished.

"What the fuck did you just say? Christmas movie?!"

[fumblebeefae]

Sorry Bee Master 🐝 but while the topic is going, I don’t know a lot about trans (trans?) stuff but one argument I hear is “they have body dysmorphia” and that it’s “bad to encourage their behaviour/changing” because that’s “not helping them with their condition” or SOMETHING to that effect (gross). I don’t know much about, well, anything really, so what’s a way to tackle that take when someone says that? I don’t know how to respond to it other than “being gay was once classed as a condition”

Medical and mental health experts all agree that being trans is not a condition or a disorder, but rather gender dysphoria is, which some (but not all), trans people have. In this case you can treat that dysphoria through transition, which for some trans people includes medical transitioning. 

It may be anecdotal but I can attest to how transitioning made me much happier, and if I had been denied access to transitioning I’d have most definitely killed myself by now.   

All studies into trans people and transitioning as shown that allowing us to transition (whether that be medically or not) leads to higher levels of happiness, contentedness with our bodies, lowers rates of suicide and depression. 

Furthermore, a recent study (2019) found that of 27,000 transgender people ~14% had been forced into conversation therapy, those that had were twice as likely to have attempted suicide. If they had been exposed to conversion therapy before the age of 10, the risk of suicide attempts was four times higher. The study found that trans people forced into these sorts of therapies result in life-long mental health problems.

  Articles:

Puberty blockers linked to lower suicide risk for transgender people

Norman Spack: Saving transgender lives

Transgender 'conversion therapy' associated with 'severe psychological distress'

Centre for Suicide Prevention - Transgender people and suicide

A new study finds conversion therapy is really bad for trans people. Who could have guessed?

Scientific papers: 

Trans employees, transitioning, and job satisfaction. Drydakis N. Journal of Vocational Behavior. 2017; 98: 1-16

Pubertal Suppression for Transgender Youth and Risk of Suicidal Ideation. Turban J, King D, Carswell J, Keuroghlian A. Pediatrics.  2020; 145: (2) e20191725

Association Between Recalled Exposure to Gender Identity Conversion Efforts and Psychological Distress and Suicide Attempts Among Transgender Adults. Turban J. Beckman N. Reisner S, et al. JAMA Psychiatry. 2020;77(1):68-76.

[an-ambivalent]

Uchiha Therapist: Part I

Synopsis: Yandere! Madara x Reader x Yandere! Sasuke 

 [Name] is a struggling post graduate psychology student who has more on her plate than she can handle. Between her practicums to gain work experience and writing reports, to trying to maintain a decent lifestyle and look after her own mental health, there is little to no time left to work an actual paying job. Yet, money is essential for survival. So,  she does the next best thing that has been trending recently to assure a good paycheck; she becomes a sugar baby. The only thing is, [Name] is unaware that she’s become sugar baby of the Madara Uchiha, the notorious CEO of Uchiha Corporation. She is also unaware of the fact that she’s the therapist of his nephew Sasuke Uchiha, who has begun treading over the professional boundary of a patient, and has started developing an abnormal fixation for his therapist since she seems to be the only one who actually understands him.

Warning: Although this story will come to contain yandere themes that can be triggering or uncomfortable to read, there are no yandere themes present  in this chapter. It does have mentions of negative and tiring thoughts that may be triggering. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional and any yandere or other toxic behaviours that may be present in the future, know that I do not condone such behaviour. 

Word Count: 4K 

--

Story start; A day in the life of [Name] 

On the night that started it all, when [Name] was feeling particularly disheartened and dissatisfied with her life, she had vented her frustrations and sorrow to her good friend Ino Yamanaka. Although many things in her life were going right, and she was privileged enough to have the chance to pursue her wanted career, it came at a cost. Her entire life schedule was fixed around her post graduation studies, other little spared time was for cooking and doing chores, and the rest was for sleeping. [Name] lacked the time for earning money, and doing things that were higher on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs — dating to find someone to create a meaningful connection with, or working on her previous hobbies. 

The two friends had been consuming enough booze to be a little more than tipsy but not enough to be drunk. Some words were slurred, the fine motor control had decreased a bit, and with their faces slightly flushed, Ino was convinced that she had the best idea to [Name]’s problems. 

Giggling at her own idea, Ino had snatched [Name]’s laptop from in front of them, and tapped various keyboard keys for joogle to search up. Once she saw the results, she clicked on one of the many websites shown as a result, and after a few more minutes of more clicks and keyboard taps, she had turned the laptop towards [Name] to see, with a triumph grin on her face. 

“A sugar daddy,” Ino claimed proudly. 

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“A sugar daddy — it’s the perfect solution for your troubles. Not only will you get to earn more than enough, it covers the dating aspect too! Someone to spend your time with, to sleep over with — just without getting too attached. You’ll have a social life once again that doesn’t consist of you drinking booze with me or our other friends and you can finally afford to look decent again,” Ino explained straightforwardly. 

[Name]’s eye twitched. “What do you mean finally afford to look decent again?” she inquired in a low voice, and glared at Ino, who smiled sheepishly at her. 

“Well you’ve been a fashion disaster for sometime now—“

“Sorry I don’t have rich parents like the rest of you to buy me extravagant brands,” [Name] retorted, and a tick mark of anger bulged on Ino’s head. 

“Well Sakura is a commoner like you too and even when she was a starving student, she still had a fashion sense. You don’t need to buy something expensive like jucci to look decent!” Ino snapped, and [Name] scowled at her. 

“Whatever. This discussion is pointless anyway since I’m not going to become a sugar baby,” [Name] responded, and went to grab a bottle to consume more alcohol.  However, the uneasy and anxious expression that Ino wore made her halt amidst her movements. All of a sudden, a cold shiver ran down [Name]’s back, and she felt a sense of dread building up in her gut. 

“Please tell me you didn’t,” [Name] pleaded and Ino winced inwardly, before she turned the laptop around to show [Name]. 

“I did… I already signed you up. You have a date with him this Friday night.” 

“INO!” 

That was the gist of how [Name] had become entangled in her predicament with Madara Uchiha, and what was meant to be nights for [Name] giving her daddy some casual sugar, turned into an diabetic sugar addiction. 

It was baffling really, how as children, people can be better in following orders than they can be as adults. And for someone like [Name], who had been studying psychology for years now, and began to work with the theories, one would think that practicing what she preached would be easier; she was great at helping her clients, but not much at helping herself. 

“Make sure you don’t go with strangers” — a lesson that had been engraved in children at school and from their parents for their own safety. It was one of the most basic rules of common sense to evade danger; however, it was the rule [Name] failed to follow. Instead of not going through with her fixed date with a sugar daddy, who was a complete stranger and who knows pose what danger, she had gone through with it. And she had not even taken any caution to have their first meeting in a public place, no. She had gone to his home, which was the only place he accepted for their meeting, because she was too anxious to say no or not go through with it. 

She really wondered how she was able to help her clients so well when she could not even manage her own anxiety. 

So, now, here she sat. Since by Ino’s definition, [Name] was a walking fashion disaster, the blonde had refused to let her go without her help. Their tastes differed, but even [Name] had to admit that Ino had done an incredible job in helping her choose an outfit that was suited to her tastes. Granted, it was skimpier than what she usually wore and more figure defining, but it did make her look really nice. She did not look like a savage mess with evident dark eyebags who appeared to have just gotten out of bed and went to work straightaway like she did on a daily basis. But she felt exposed and uncomfortable in the setting she was not accustomed to.

The penthouse she had been invited to was extravagantly luxurious; the small dining for the two of them (her and soon to be her sugar daddy) was right next to the giant window in the living room that showed a beautiful night view of the Konoha city. Lighting in the room was ambient and romantic, and there was a small pizza, that looked ridiculously expensive for what it's worth, and red wine settled before her. While she did not want to indulge in such luxury, feeling on the edge of the seat because of how her sugar daddy to be was scrutinizing her with calculating onyx eyes, and never being the one to refuse free food, she mindlessly ate it, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“You know, usually you’re supposed to make conversation and sell yourself to try and convince me of why I should stick with you rather than someone else,” Madara spoke, and this was so abrupt and unanticipated on [Name]’s part that she froze half way through biting her food. Her cheeks felt hot in embarrassment, and she awkwardly coughed loudly before looking up at Madara. Although he found her antics to be somewhat adorable, he kept a straight face. After all, to gain the attention of a man of his status, there were many who did the strangest things to appease him. Madara was not a man to be tricked so foolishly. 

“Why should I sell myself when you haven’t convinced me to why I should be your….uh, sugar b-baby rather than s-someone else’s?” [Name] responded. She had started off strongly, but near the end when it came to referring to herself as a sugar baby and realisation of the situation sunk in, she felt herself become more flustered. 

Now, it was not odd for people to be intimidated by Madara. However, acting in confidence at the same time, and to question his authority, that was new. The corner of his lips twitched upwards in amusement. He leaned back in his chair and raised a fine black eyebrow at [Name]. 

“And why should I have to sell myself to you? I’m the one who, essentially, is paying for everything,” he challenged, and [Name] scoffed at him. 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s really costing you,” she mumbled under her breath, before clearing her throat. “Someone else can pay me too.” 

“You had no reviews on your profile, you’re lucky that I even chose to click on it. Usually, it’s hard to get started since no one bothers with anyone with no reviews.” 

[Name] shrugged. “That was your own choice, don’t shift the situation onto me. And besides, how do you know it's only reviews that count online? I might know a lot of other sugar daddies I had in my past that desperately want me but it's lucky that I chose to give you, a stranger, the chance.” 

Madara was amused by the fact that [Name] had used his own logic against him, and could not help but smirk. Even though it was more than obvious through her behaviour that she was an absolute newbie to this, he decided to humour her. 

"Well, I am an Uchiha," Madara said simply, as if that sole reason explained everything. 

[Name] blinked in confusion. "Uhhh, okay…? Well, I'm [Surname]. That explains why you should choose me.” 

This time, her response really did leave Madara confused. His eyebrows were furrowed and there was clear confusion written on his face. 

“You don’t know the Uchiha?” he asked incredulously. The urge to sigh in an exaggerated manner and snap at him was strong, but [Name] decided against it. With the way he spoke in that condescending tone, and expected [Name] to treat him as if he was of utmost importance, made it more than obvious to her that he was used to being treated as the highest authority. Perhaps he was of importance and not watching herself around him could lead her into a huge mess. But [Name] did not particularly care about his status or whatever he had going on that made him expect her to seemingly kiss the floor he walked on. If she cared about authorities and sucking up to people, then she would not be training to be a therapist in the first place. There were going to be times when she would have to fight authorities and regulations with her sweat and blood for the sake of her clients. And really, if [Name] did care, she would not have been here in the first place -- having dinner with a complete stranger. 

“Uh I do?” she said, but it sounded more like a question. Madara opened his mouth to respond to her, but he shifted the focus of the conversation to another topic. He felt even more perplexed by [Name] now because how could she not know the Uchiha? 

“Nevermind, it’s not of importance. Tell me, why are you in this line of business? You don’t seem,” fit for it, he wanted to say, but chose his words carefully. “The type to want to do this.” 

In response, [Name] felt flustered. She wondered if it was really that obvious that she was not used to it and Madara was simply humouring her. She could very well tell him the truth that it was because Ino had tricked her into it. However, that would make her seem gullible. Now that she may be committing to this, she knew she needed to build a good reputation for herself. She decided to tell the half-truth. 

“I need the money,” she answered in a murmur, before she brought the glass of wine to her lips, and took a huge drink from it. 

Madara watched her with analytical eyes as she downed her alcohol, taking no moment to savour the taste. He had also noticed how she was on her third plate of their dinner and wondered if she had any decency and how she was capable of eating so much. 

“Your job doesn’t pay you enough?” he asked in a genuinely concerned tone, before he followed [Name]’s example and downed his remaining wine in one go too. He had never done that before, and after finishing it, he had to admit there was an odd sense of satisfaction of not savouring its every taste and drinking it all together at once. 

Madara was staring at her with anticipation and worry embedded deep in his ebony coloured irides. Frankly speaking, [Name] had not have someone look at her with such concern in a long time. Generally, on the rare occasions she did speak freely about her worries, whoever she shared her problems with would give her their own input rather than simply listening to her and asking her the right questions that would help her discuss or figure out her own problem. The sight of it made her heart beat faster, and she unknowingly found herself talking before she even what she was doing.

“It’s not that… Well, actually I don’t even work. I barely have time to breath, working is my last priority right now,” she murmured, nervously fiddling with her fingers, as she observed Madara from the corner of her eye.

“While I cannot relate to your financial struggles, I understand the situation you’re in. Becoming so busy because of a goal you once had, that you question whether it’s even worth pursuing it anymore. You lose sight of who used to be and the things that brought you pleasure. There’s always something to do that you can’t even remember the last time you truly felt alive,” Madara said thoughtfully, and his words caused [Name]’s eyes to widen. 

“And no matter how much you want to try and change things, it just feels like you’ve been stuck in the same cycle and it keeps repeating over and over and over again,” [Name] murmured, sighing dejectedly. “I really hate the world.” 

Madara chuckled at her declaration as he lifted another bottle of wine that was on their table. 

“Me too. Why don’t we discuss more things we hate about the world and learn about what we in common over more wine?” he suggested. The edge of suspicion and tenseness he held before was no longer present. Instead, he was now feeling much more relaxed than he had in awhile, and felt intrigued about [Name]. The twinkle in his eyes in hopes to talk to her more caused her lips to stretch into a cute flustered smile. 

“Sure.” 

____________________

It was the week which was like the last and there was no change but stress levels felt higher. Even after a decent ten hours sleep, [Name] felt exhaustion crawling like bugs underneath the epidermis layer of her skin. Dark bags were swelled prominently underneath her eyes. Her hair was tied carelessly in a messy bun that fell to one side; it wasn’t pretty like the one’s beauty gurus showed. It was loose but the knot was tight enough to make the weight of the hair feel too evident with each passing moment. Taking a quick sip from her steaming mocha, she greeted the administrators on the front desk that were the first point of contact between clients and the therapists who worked further back in the office. This office was where [Name] was presently working to gain practice experience in her second practicum. Generally, students in training were simply meant to observe and learn. If permission given by their supervisor, they could step in. But in [Name]’s case, for the sake of the story’s plot, the office she had chosen this time were understaffed. And since she already had finished one practicum and had quite a lot of other experiences from volunteering under her belt, she was trusted to work independently with whatever clients may be assigned to her. 

“Good morning Moegi and Konohamaru,” [Name] greeted, and the two looked up from their screens. When they noticed it was [Name], they beamed at her and returned her greeting in response. 

“How was your weekend [Name]?” Konohamaru asked, as he handed her the appointment schedule of everyone she would seeing today. 

[Name] was ready to give her autopilot response of it being "okay" and then quickly shooting a "how about you" like she usually did. However, before those words left her mouth she paused to ponder: truly, how had her weekend been? 

It was okay. Actually, it had been more than okay.

It had surprisingly been a lot of fun. When she had went through with her sugar daddy date, she had somewhat expected that she may end up having sex with a rich man she would not have been attracted to and receive compensation for sleeping with him. But that had not been the case. Madara was quite attractive, and although the dinner date had begun with a few subtle jeers thrown at each other, she had ended up having a good time with him. The fact that she felt safe enough to be vulnerable with him in the way she didn't even feel that level of comfort with her friends, and shared things she hadn't even known she was bottling up - - it was such a profound experience. To go from discussing their hatred for many things, to confessing secrets and feelings they weren't judged for, but rather, listened to, to getting so drunk that they sang cheesy songs and ended the date with their own unplanned karaoke night, it left an odd feeling of satisfaction and joy in [Name]'s chest that she had not felt in a while. The knowledge of knowing that she would be seeing Madara again soon left her feeling embarrassed. 

"It was," she began, and she covered her face with one hand to hide her embarrassment. "Really nice and fun. I had a good time," she murmured somewhat quietly. Then, right away, she scurried off towards her office before they could question her further or talk about their own weekends.

[Name] had left Moegi and Konohamaru surprised with her response, and the two turned to each other wondering if they had heard right. 

It was after lunch when [Name] was indulging in some [favourite fruit] iced tea, hoping some sugar would help her stay awake when she had an appointment with a client she would be seeing for the first time. She had settled her drink on the table beside her, walked through the hallway, and into the main office with reception and waiting area for clients. 

It was there she saw a young man not much older than herself. He had warm ivory skin and black hair bangs that framed his face. The back of his head looked like a duck’s butt. He must have heard her footsteps because before she even called out his name, he had looked up. When her eyes met his, she took a sharp intake of breath because he looked oddly similar to Madara. The way his obsidian eyes scrutinised her made her feel uneasy. Nonetheless, she gave him, what she hoped appeared to be a welcoming and reassuring smile. 

“You are Sasuke?” she assumed, and he stood up. 

“Hn,” Sasuke responded simply, and at the lack of any greeting or even a facial expression caused [Name] to sweatdrop. But nonetheless, she carried on like she did with all of her patients. 

“Before we start your session, did you want anything? A hot chocolate, coffee, water?” 

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at this before he replied nonchalantly. “A black coffee.” 

[Name] nodded and just before she could speak once more, a head of messy black curls invaded her vision and she was greeted with a smile that was almost too falsely cheerie for her taste. 

“Hello! I’m Shisui, Sasuke’s cousin. And stoic face over there is Itachi, Sasuke’s brother. You forgot about us Miss. Therapist,” Shisui greeted brightly. At his exuberant persona, Sasuke glared at him. The one who he had introduced as Itachi, sighed, and [Name] looked at them apologetically. 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t notice you. Can I get anything for you as well? If you’ve been with Sasuke until this point, I can assume you’ll be staying with him.” 

Itachi nodded and stepped up front and held out his hand for [Name] to shake, which she obliged to almost instantly. 

“Yes. We are here to oversee my little brother’s recovery at my Father’s orders and make sure there is progress,” he explained simply. His words were harsh. It was evident in the way Shisui had become tight lipped, and how Sasuke had now averted his glare onto Itachi. [Name]’s eyes shifted to observe their reaction and then returned to Itachi who was looking at her stoically. It wasn’t too obvious. However, she noticed with the way Itachi’s jaw was clenched more tightly than it had been before. This change in his body language clearly indicated that he had not wanted to say what he did and he did not want to be here. And from the intense glare Sasuke regarded him with, [Name] safely assumed that whatever was going on with Sasuke, Itachi seemed to be a part of it. Underneath Itachi’s pretty eyes, she noticed a sense of tiredness that was all — physical, mental, emotional and more. She saw that same sense of exhaustion on her own face each day. 

The session had not even started and this was already turning out to become so complicated. [Name] hoped she would still have her sanity by the time she graduated and came to do this full-time. There were some of her colleagues who never bothered with rules or following basic procedures to assure their clients comfort and wellbeing. Lucky for her clients, she did. And when she needed to, she would bend over backwards and willingly go beyond her capabilities for them. 

She knew from the way they all held themselves, and particularly with how Itachi had spoken that they were of important status. Their ‘father asked [them] to be here’ was a subtle way of implying that she could get in huge trouble if she did not comply with them. But [Name] just didn’t care. 

She turned to Sasuke with a stern look on her face and motioned towards Shisui and Itachi. 

“Do you want them there to support you or would you feel more comfortable with just you? Either way is fine. It’s your decision,” [Name] said smiling at him. 

The three raven-haired males that had been introducing themselves moments ago stilled and their eyes widened in shock. Shisui was the first one to snap out of it. 

“Uh, Miss. Therapist, I don’t think you know—“ 

“I know what I’m doing. Please refrain from implying such things and let my client decide for himself,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes. Shisui went to warn once more, but he was stopped by Itachi, who shook his head. 

Itachi’s gaze went to Sasuke, and then back to [Name] as he spoke. 

“I’m sure she knows what she is doing. We all wish for Sasuke’s wellbeing. We won’t intrude if he doesn’t want us to,” he proclaimed. That was his way of hinting for Shisui to drop the subject, and reassuring both Sasuke and [Name] that he was on their side, particularly with Sasuke, letting him know that he would not let their father find this out. 

“Aniki,” Sasuke murmured in disbelief, staring at his brother for a few moments. Then, he looked back at [Name] to see she was still giving him the same sweet and gentle smile she had greeted him with. 

Maybe, perhaps, this time, signing up for therapy would be worth it. Maybe he could allow himself to talk to her and not fear judgement and consequences like he had with his previous therapists. 

“I’d like it to be by myself,” he murmured, looking away from her with slight pink cheeks. As his eyes had drifted away from hers and met Shisui’s, who gave him a warning look, his shoulders tensed and his eyes snapped back to [Name] right away. “P-Please and t-thank you.” 

He did not need to glance at Shisui again to know the oldest male was now grinning at him. 

Seemingly, his politeness seemed to be unexpected and Sasuke wanted to scoff at how [Name]’s eyes had lit up in pride. It almost annoyed him because did they really think he was that dimwitted? 

“You’re welcome. Now, follow me please. Shisui and Itachi, our session will be around an hour so you can come to pick him up in that time,” [Name] said. The two of them nodded and waved the two goodbye as Sasuke followed after [Name] to her office. 

-------

A/N:  (tbh, uhhh, I plan for this to be a yandere story [whispers: eventually] but this chapter is fluffy. I honestly don’t know where I’m going with this or if I’ll add more Uchihas as love interests and turn into a reverse harem for [Name], I’m gonna make shit up as I go along and hope it turns into something decent lol gang gang. I just need to write a story I can write without worries and just enjoy the process of it rather than caring about where it leads. So yeet. I hope you join me on this journey <3)

[ms-hells-bells]

Wait, Chanyeol was also exposed as an abuser? I heard he was cheating, but never heard more than that. What are the details?

in the same post that his ex made exposing him, she also said that he said “if my career gets ruined because of woman problems i will kill myself”. so, indirect in it’s language and intentionally vague and she did not yet know he was cheating, but HE knew he was cheating, so it was a preemptive manipulative threat. when he said that to her, he absolutely meant “(if you find out i’m cheating) if you tell anyone that i cheated, i’ll kill myself and it’ll be your fault”. that’s how abusers work. 

i mean also, i consider cheating emotional abuse. it has such a massive negative psychological impact that some people even need therapy from, and also puts that person’s health at risk. he cheated with so many women apparently, and even had those women around people that knew he had a girlfriend, but i guess everyone just thought it was acceptable and didn’t tell her. it’s gaslighting, cheating involves so much gaslighting that any suspicion your partner has is “crazy” and “jealousy”. it destroys one’s ability to trust.

here’s the full translated post she made

Hello, Chany***.

I’m writing a revealing post for the first time in my life because of you. You’ll probably be shocked since you think we broke up amicably. But for me, the past 3 years have become dirtied and ugly after being fooled by you. Chany***, this is your karma and something you started.

Around the end of October 2017, you got my number from an acquaintance and contacted me first. We began flirting like other regular couples, and we began to date sincerely after you asked me out.

Recently, while approaching our 3rd anniversary, I found out a shocking truth. I tried to not believe it until I personally saw and heard it for myself, and I believed you when you said it wasn’t true. But, during the three years that we were dating, you became someone’s first and someone’s one-night stand. While I was sleeping peacefully, you were always busy playing around dirtily with a new woman.

That included a variety of girl group members, Youtubers, broadcast DJs, dancers, stewardesses, and more.

Did you like it?

You were pretty famous. Everyone around you, except for me, knew how dirty you are. Really, only your fans and I didn’t know.

When the member you didn’t like, who didn’t know about our relationship, started showing interest in me, I was surprised by how you couldn’t even say a word. You couldn’t show that you were in a bad mood in front of him, but you cursed him out behind his back. I can now see that the reason was because you couldn’t be proud (about us).

I told you jokingly if you were going to cheat on me, do it secretly. But you really did exactly that many times…

I heard over 10 different names, Ch**yeol. If you were a human being, you shouldn’t have messed with my acquaintances.

Two days after we broke up, you called me to get back together. I told you the stories I heard, and you couldn’t say a word and pretended you didn’t know. So I named one of the girls you slept with, and after being silent for 3 seconds, you said, “What about her?” Do you know how ridiculous that one phrase made me feel? I recorded [our conversation] because there were victims who wanted to know what excuses you’d say to me.

The funniest thing is that whenever I mentioned the names of one of the girls you played, ate, and slept with, you didn’t deny knowing them… You should have at least pretended. How funny I must have been to you… you have no fear. What does that make me, who was fooled by you for three years?…

If I have any blame, it’s only that I believed and protected you without knowing what kind of piece of sh*t you are. I clearly didn’t know how to read someone. If I have any blame, it’s just that one thing.

I hid the photos I took with you and told my closest friends that I didn’t have a boyfriend because I was afraid that they would leak out and reveal that we were in a relationship and that it would have affected your career.

I was busy protecting you because I trusted you when you said if a problem arose in your music career due to women troubles, you would kill yourself.

Seriously, at least try to live up to your image…

I won’t reveal anything else that I know because I know things will get even worse. I’m sure you know exactly what I’m referring to best.

I don’t want to be dirtied anymore, and because of the jeong (bond) we’ve had over the years, I’ll stop here.

My heart drops every time I even hear your name. I hope the world finds out what kind of b*stard you really are.

Don’t contact me.

it says “victims”, so i’m guessing that multiple of the women he cheated with were unaware he had a girlfriend and he may have even had multiple relationships, fooling both this woman and other women. what concerns me the most is the “if i reveal more, things will get worse, you know what i’m talking about”. the general assumption is drugs, because that’s common with idols and has a severe penalty and is a career destroyer. but hopefully it’s not further harming women. i believe her because the photos have not been disproved when it would be easy and chanyeol hasn’t said a word which, in sue happy korea where even the truth can be defamation, this tells me that she absolutely has further evidence that she’s keeping quiet, likely to protect the women named in the phone call that he confirmed, because they would have their careers damaged despite being innocent in this. suing her would force her to give the rest of her evidence, which would damn his career. better to say nothing and lose some fans because you might have done something, than have it confirmed and lose all your fans. see: johnny depp’s fail.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

title: duty calls

[ch.2] [ffnet] [ao3]

summary: Modern/ Quarantine AU- A new disease is spreading around the world, and unlike most people, she can’t run away from it. As a health worker, Haruno Sakura understands her part in this fight, and unfortunately, she can’t have him by her side. In order to keep him and everyone else safe, she has to stay away.

a/n: so, in the middle of this whole pandemic, why not write a SasuSaku AU, right? Lately, I’ve been struggling a bit with this whole quarantine and after reading a bunch of fics in which Sasuke and Sakura stay inside together, I’ve decided to show her the health worker she is. I’m also thinking about making this a multi-chapter (no more than 4 chapters) but I still haven’t decided… Should I? Well, enough of my rambling! Hope you enjoy this one! I would also love to know your opinion! Stay safe and stay inside!

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This fic is dedicated to all of those people risking their lives out there for the sake of their patients. You guys are heroes and deserve to be recognized as such. I support the health workers and their right to work under decent conditions.

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The trembling of her key chain echoed across the hallways of her apartment complex, knocking on her neighbours' every door just to be bluntly rejected. People of all ages laid restless under their blankets, feeling their heartbeats rising while watching the latest news, and it was as if she could hear the silent screams of apprehension escaping through locked doors. Sakura was coming home from a very long and very stressful shift at the hospital— one of many others that were still to come— and as soon as she found herself standing on her entry, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to take a long deep breath.

Things were definitely not okay. Across the world, all kinds of people were scared of an invisible threat that was sweeping the globe at an extremely fast pace, leaving behind a trail of sickness and death wherever it went. For those still unvisited, the near future would make sure to even the nations, for the contamination was inevitable. In a matter of days— weeks, at most— the new Coronavirus would cross yet another border, and she knew better than to believe the capital of the Fire Country would be an exception. Chaos would soon strike her beloved Konoha and there was nothing she or anyone could do to stop it.

Though politicians were trying to control the uncontrollable with motivational speeches and isolation measures, the word around the health professionals wasn’t really that simple. The hospitals weren’t ready to treat so many people at the same time. They lacked security equipments, respiratory machines, rapid tests— heck, they didn’t even have space for all of the patients that were expected to show up at the hospital. Even if the hospital where she worked at was one of the best in the whole country, Sakura knew dark times were ahead of them.

There was no use in denying the inevitable outcomes of the pandemic, she knew.

A lot of people were going to be infected, some were going to get sick, others are going to die and stricter safety measures would be imposed in order to try to contain the contamination. They mayor had already decreed a state of quarantine in order to isolate everyone, and she knew that meant not seeing Sasuke, Naruto, her parents and everyone else that are not her work colleagues for the time being. She would miss them, for sure, especially her raven haired boyfriend, but deep inside she knew it was for the best. His safety was the most important thing, and now, from afar, she could only hope he  would listen to the security recommendations so they could all get through that crisis without major problems.

Yes, hope.. that was the only thing she could do at such late hours. She opened her tired eyes to be welcomed by the dark corridor of her apartment, and reluctantly decided that it was time for her to go clean herself. Even if there were still no reported cases in the city, it was only prudent to treat the hospital as a highly contaminated place, therefore, she would have to make sure to follow the recommendations given to the doctors.

With a silent sigh, she dropped her bag to the floor and quickly took off her shoes. She unbuttoned her jeans, letting it slip down her legs, and with one move, her shirt was also pulled from her body. The pink haired doctor was then left only in her mismatched underwear as she finally crossed the hallway of her apartment towards her bathroom for a good bath. Even if she lived all alone, she couldn’t simply risk infecting everything she touched.

What if someone recklessly showed up at her door, right?

Her bare feet against the wooden floor were light as she crossed the corridor, and as she approached the living-room entrance, an odd light caught her attention. It was dim and she knew it was probably coming from the lamp next to the couch, and immediately, she tried to think back to the last time she had turned that on. Nothing came to mind. If she were completely honest, Sakura barely remembered the last time she sat on her couch to watch some Tv without Sasuke around, let alone to read a book or do something that would require that amount of light.

No, she hadn’t forgotten that light on, that much she knew. And if it hadn’t been her, then—

Her emerald eyes widened at the realization, and in a heartbeat, she rushed to the source of light just to find the one thing that was supposed to be sleeping safely miles away from her. Lying on her couch and reading a book was no one other than her boyfriend, Uchiha Sasuke, who had apparently decided to spend his quarantine with a health worker. He was simply sitting there, wearing his usual marine-blue pajamas while a mug rested on the center table next to him. Her lips parted in a mix of awe and anger at the sight in front of her, and it took her some good seconds before she decided what to do.

She had to keep calm and think rationally in order to deliver a message. Better than anyone, she knew there was no need to make a fuss because of that.

Yeah, right.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” She spoke, her voice almost screaming and hands resting on her hips as she stood at least 4 meters away from him.

His shoulders flinched at the sudden sound as he was brought back from his book. “Oh, you’re finally home.” He turned his head around to face her, then, his dark eyes ever so calm, only to be surprised by the sight of his girlfriend’s current state. “Why are you naked?”

“What?”

“Your clothes… What happened to them?” His expression changed, a sudden concern taking over his demeanour. “Were you robbed!? Sakura, tell me, did they do anything to you? Because, if they did—”

“I wasn’t robbed!” She spoke firmly, the urge of face-palming eating her alive. “Shannarou, my clothes are contaminated, Sasuke-kun. Just like me! You really shouldn’t be here. I might—”

“Did you get a new case at the hospital today?” He cut through her speech, absentmindedly, as he closed his book just to take a sip of his mug.

“No, not yet, but—"

“Then you still don’t have to be so nervous. Calm down.”

“Calm down?!” She scoffed, bitting her lower lip before continuing. "There’s a pandemic out there, Sasuke-kun. People are gonna get really sick. They are going to die, and right now, we can only rely on the isolation measures so, hopefully, the hospitals won't crash. I’ll be out there exposed to this virus and instead of only risking myself, now, with you around, I’m risking your health, too! So, please, don’t tell me to calm down.”

Her eyes were widened as she let out all of those words of concern, and it was possible to tell she was finally feeling the weight of her responsibilities on her shoulders. His eyes grew serious at the sight of his girlfriend falling apart in front of him, and if anything, the Uchiha knew he had to do something.

At that moment, Sakura was stressed and scared. She was the personification of a breakdown, just like he had predicted she would be, and even if he knew his presence there would only leave her more worried, to say he regretted his actions would be a lie. In fact, Sasuke was happy to be there.

He was happy to be by her side while he still could.

And since that was the case, the Uchiha knew he had to help her.

“Hn, you’re right.” He nodded, closing his eyes in acceptance. Sasuke stood up, then, moving his neck a little before turning to face her. “Maybe I didn’t think this through.”

“Oh, you think?” She arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms across her chest, just watching as he started to take some steps closer to her. The pinkette was still aware that she was still technically contaminated, and after all that talk, she wanted to believe her boyfriend also knew what that meant.

She wanted to believe he had understood her plea. And without major problems, he did.

But that didn’t mean he would simply admit that.

“Aah. I guess I should start taking this more seriously.”

“You really should.” She kept looking at him, as his feet continued walking, her brows arched in surprised for he was actually accepting her words. There was something different with him. Sasuke seemed more mature, more responsible and— “What are you doing?”

“I'm walking. Is there a problem?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes. You’re coming too close and I still haven’t showered.”

“And?”

“Are you serious?!” She started, her voice now with traces of annoyance. "Did you really not pay attention to anything I’ve just said?!”

“Oh, I did listen to you, Sakura. Though I have to admit I got a little… distracted.” He smirked, running his eyes up and down her body. “I guess the lab coat really is important to a doctor’s image.”

Her cheeks grew red in a mix of embarrassment and anger, and she had to hold back the urge to smack him on the shoulder. Had she already washed her hands, though, he wouldn’t have escaped her heavy hand that easily.

“You have got to be kidding me, Sasuke-kun!” She started, pouting angrily. “What is wrong with you!?”

“Hn.” He scoffed, shrugging off her anger. “I'm still a man, Sakura. What were you expecting?”

Tch, you’re unbelievable.” She said, closing her heavy eyes for a couple of seconds in order to let everything sink in. That whole pep talk wasn’t going anywhere. It was late, she was tired, and more than ever, she needed to clean herself. “Ugh, this is useless. I’m gonna go get a shower and then we will continue this conversation.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, not really.” She said, turning around and walking towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. “It's not like you’re going anywhere before I disinfect the doorknob.” She could almost feel his eyes on her, but at that moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Though she could not see, he smirked at his girlfriend’s snarky words. Sakura was probably furious at him, but he knew it was worth it if it meant she could finally take a break during a hot shower. “Try to relax a bit. I’ll prepare you something warm to eat once you’re done.”

The unexpected softness in his voice took her by surprise, and at the mention of food, she suddenly remembered she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. She felt her stomach lowly rumbling due to its emptiness, and a pout formed in her lips at the thought of being betrayed by her own insides. Sakura hated when he did that in the middle of an argument.

Shannarou, How am I supposed to be mad at you like that, Sasuke-kun?

A sigh escaped her lips, at the thought. “Fine.” She said, her voice holding onto the first syllable for a couple more seconds as she disappeared into the dark hallway of her apartment. She opened the bathroom’s door, turned on the light, and before she could lock herself in there, the pinkette peeked out with her her head one last time for one last warning. “Uchiha Sasuke, don’t you dare use all of my tomatoes!”

Her voice echoed across the hallway, being followed by the sound of the door clicking shut. The water, then, began to fall down while she took off the last pieces of clothes shielding her body, and soon, the bathroom was filled with steam.

——————————

After almost 20 minutes, she walked out of the bathroom, dressed in her pyjamas and with her short, pink hair still wet from the shower. Even if her mind was still revolving around the inevitable upcoming of the quarantine and the fact that she still had things to disinfect, Sakura would be lying if she said the hot water streaming down her body didn’t sooth her spirit. She moved around her apartment, bare feet against the cold floor, as she headed back to the living room where Sasuke was waiting for her. Her nose could smell the scent of food, and for the first time that evening, she saw something positive about having him around.

“Hmm… The smell is delicious.” She stated, practically humming, as she entered her kitchen. For she lived in an open floor apartment— as expected, for those who live alone— she could see as her boyfriend was once more sitting on the couch, calmly, as he had resumed reading his book. He had left her plate covered with a piece of paper-towel on the kitchen island, and judging by the steam coming out of it, she could tell he had just placed it there. It was his special rice porridge with vegetables and tomatoes that she loves so much, and she couldn’t help but mentally thank his mother for teaching him how to cook.

A smile took over her lips as she took a medium spoon to help her eat, and instead of sitting on the place he had set for her on the dinning table, Sakura walked towards the couch where he was reading and found herself a place next to him. His dark eyes didn’t bother leaving the book as she scootched closer to him, and she barely noticed as he slightly adjusted his body to welcome her by his side. She leaned back until her back was pressed against his chest, propped her feet on the couch and allowed herself to relax her muscles so she could finally eat her homemade dinner.

“Are you properly disinfected now, Sakura?” He teased, still not changing the tone of his voice nor taking his eyes from his book.

“Well, we don’t know if regular showers are 100% efficient. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before breaking into my apartment.”

“Hn, you can’t charge me for that when I entered using the key you gave me.”

She was blowing the porridge on the spoon, clearly enjoying that domestic atmosphere surrounding them. “Oh, I guess I’ll have to get that key back from you, then.”

“I guess you really should. You wouldn’t want me showing up here every night and interrupting your precious routine of skipping dinner, right?.” He smirked, turning the page of his book.

“Tch, shut up. It’s not like I do it every night.” She said, smirking back at him. Sakura hated it when he brought up her bad habits as arguments to their silly arguments. She knew he was right about the things he said about her not eating or sleeping properly, though she would never admit such thing. Being an adult was hard, but it was certainly easier with him around.

“If you say so…”

“I know so.” She nodded, with a childish smile on her face. Finally, after blowing off the steam, the pinkette took a spoonful of the porridge, and as always, felt her tastebuds delighted by how all of the ingredients melted inside her mouth. Maybe it was the fact that she was starving or maybe it was because she didn’t have such high standards on food, but she felt like that porridge could win a culinary award. It was salty, warm and that combination of carrots and chopped parsley felt like a very comfortable hug.

She loves it when he cooks her dinner. Apart from the taste always being nice, Sakura can’t help but be grateful for the fact that he cares for her. Sasuke has never been a man of many words, not even during their younger days, and that’s why, whenever he does something like that—well— it means the world to her.

With that porridge, he made sure she had no excuse not to eat after a long day of work. He was making sure she wasn’t going to ignore her own health, and with that, he was showing how much he cared. And even though she was still mad at him for being so irresponsible, she couldn’t possibly disregard his actions.

She was thankful for having him around that night. Thankful for his company, for the rice porridge and for trying to help her ease her mind even though the world around them was about to turn upside-down.

After the third spoon, Sakura let out a pleased squeal, and she really had to hold back the urge to devour everything like Naruto usually devours his ramen. “Shannarou, I just love your porridge.”

"Hn” He nodded. “My mom taught me that recipe when I first left home for law school.”

“I remember that.” She said, her voice a bit muffled because of the warm food. “You would always prepare some at your dormitory whenever we had to pull an all-nighter for the tests.”

“Aah. It was either that or ramen every night.”

“Naruto didn’t seem to mind.”

“Tch, his eating habits are probably worse than yours.”

“Well…” A soft giggle escaped her lips as her eyes were focused on the last spoon of the porridge. “I might have to agree with you on that.”

Unfortunately, for her stomach, the porridge eventually came to an end. With the flavors still lingering on her tongue, Sakura moved her body so her hand could leave the dish on the center table, not wasting time before returning to her previous position. After dating the Uchiha for so long, the pinkette was already used to his body, and therefore, it was easy for her to use it as a comfortable pillow. Her head was now resting just bellow the crook of his neck, and she allowed herself to close her emerald eyes so she could properly enjoy that moment. His scent invaded her nostrils, his warmth enveloped her body and his heartbeat soothed her senses.

Sakura wanted that moment to last forever. She wanted to have the power to freeze time so she could spend more time with him and so the scientists could have all the time they needed to properly study a cure for that disease before more people lost their lives.

Time. Such a fleeting entity for everyone out there fighting against the virus. Patients, health workers, politicians… They were all begging for more time during that time global mess but it just seemed useless as countries all around the world were breaking death records day after day. Health Care Systems are crowded all over and even she knew Konoha had been preparing for this for over a month now, Sakura wasn’t a fool to believe they would be able to go through that without major damages.

People are going to lose their lives. People she knows and works with. People she cares about. Heck, for all she knew, she might become a victim of the COVID-19 herself. There was no telling who would be spared or who would suffocate, and she didn’t want to see people paying the highest price for pushing their luck. It was not the time to take things for granted, especially not when an act of irresponsibility could put other lives at stake.

It was time for people to think about each other and avoid agglomerations. It was time for people to stay safe and stay inside as much as they could in order to put a halt to the virus’ dissemination.

It was time for people to be alone. And unfortunately, that also included them.

The pinkette didn’t know for how long she had drifted away, but she suddenly felt herself coming back to her senses as soon as his body shifted next to her. Sasuke moved his hand to place the now closed book on the table next to her plate, and as soon as he placed his arm around her shoulders, Sakura knew it was time for them to talk about serious matters.

“Are you feeling better now?” He asked, his voiced laced with sincere concern.

“Yeah.. I guess it was just the first of many stressful days that are to come.”

“How are things at the hospital?”

“Well, we still don’t have any cases confirmed, but people are scared.” She bit her lip, her voice dropping an octave in apprehension.

“Are you?”

“I'm terrified, Sasuke-kun.” She spoke, sincerely, for she knew there was no use in lying to him at that moment. Sakura had to be honest with the Uchiha in order to show him the risks of being at her apartment. His chances of getting sick were a lot higher if he stayed with her, and that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take so she could have him around every day. “The hospital has already given us the PPEs, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of danger. Lots of health workers will be infected and there’s nothing we can do about it. We don’t know what will happen to us.”

At her words, he felt his arm tightening his grip around her shoulder, and Sakura couldn’t tell if he he was aware of that reaction. She could feel her heart aching inside her chest due to the uncertainty of what would happen in the next couple of days, and even if she is a responsible adult who understood their situation, it wouldn’t be easy to come home and not find him reading his book on the couch.

She shifted her position, then, her eyes now locked with his dark ones. Both of them were holding a serious and longing expression, and it was as if they knew what was going to happen next. Sakura took a deep breath, bitting her lip for a second before deciding to speak. “You know you can’t stay with me, right?”

Their eyes remained locked for a couple of seconds, as if they were talking their own, intimate language. Through the years, in the same way he has learned to read her like an open book, Sakura has also learned to identify his real emotions through his pitch-black orbs. He didn’t like that situation. In fact, Sasuke hated it. Not just because he wouldn’t be able to see her for who knows how long, but mostly because she would be out there, on the front lines.

Just like she said, there was no guarantee that she would be okay within the next couple of weeks, and knowing she would be risking her life while he did nothing was the worst part. Though he understood the importance of social distancing in order to help the health workers, it would all be in vain if she was contaminated.

And she was going to be contaminated. He was aware of the statistics involving the medical professionals, and he knew better than to believe she would escape those numbers. She’s strong and even her boss says she’s an exceptional doctor for her age, but she’s no superhero. His girlfriend is still just a human at the end of the day, and the virus won’t spare her just because he wants to.

She will be in danger. She will be in danger, lonely and knowing her like he does, she will forget about herself in order to take care of the others.

Even if not on purpose, Sakura was going to neglect her own health, he knew. And even if he wanted to ignore the risks and stay by her side during the hard times that were to come, he knew he would only make things worse for her. Though he wanted to, he couldn’t go against her words at that moment. Not when she was looking at him with such pleading eyes.

“Aah.” He answered, his voice as low as a whisper, and that was probably the hardest ‘yes’ he has ever given her. Her eyes softened at his words, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

A silent sigh escaped her lips after that, but no word came out from her mouth. Instead, she remained looking into his eyes for a couple of seconds more, and slowly, Sakura leaned in to plant a chaste and longing kiss on his lips. Their eyes closed, and neither of them knew for how long their lips remained together. Her right hand cupped his left cheek in an affectionate way, and immediately, he knew what she meant with that kiss.

‘Arigato.’

Though unspoken, he could feel her feelings of gratitude through the way their lips touched, and at that moment, he could only hope to be doing the right thing. Damn it, he had to be.

After a while, then, the warmth of her lips was nothing but a ghost haunting him. They remained looking at each other for a little longer, until Sakura shifted her body, again, so she could turn off the lamp before leaning against him once more. Her head now rested on his chest, their legs entangled and his arms encircling her petite body to bring her closer, in fear she would just disappear. Both of them remained silent for a couple of minutes in the darkness of her living room, thinking about the inevitable future ahead of them, until the raven haired boy was the first to reestablish their communication.

“Sakura, promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” He ordered, concern dripping from his voice. “And if anything happens, you call me immediately."

“I will, I promise.” She nodded, closing her eyes. “You too, Sasuke-kun. You can call me anytime.”

“Good.”

"Are you going back to your parents’ to stay with them?”

“No. I’ll text the Dobe in the morning. There’s still a spare bed at his apartment.”

“Oh, you and Naruto quarantining together?” She spoke, a bit of joy once more present in her voice. “There’s no way this is going to work out.”

“Hn.” He nodded, closing his eyes and allowing his body to relax. Apparently, neither of them would move out of that couch any time soon, and he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. “You know he won’t survive this quarantine all alone. Eventually, he will try to leave home to do something stupid, so someone has to stop him.”

“Fair enough.” She chuckled. "I’ll be counting on you, then.”

“Aah.” He said, his ears focusing on her steady breath. Judging by the way she relaxed in his arms, he could tell Sakura was drifting away and he could feel himself doing the same. A sigh escaped his lips, and even though he was not completely happy about the way their night ended, he figured that was not the time to worry about that.

It was really late, after all. And the next day—oh, the next day—

Who could possibly know what was going to happen?

the end.

a/n: so, should I continue?