#anyway don’t verbally or emotionally abuse people who thought you were their friend

[pallanophblargh]

Had a bit of a “regression” this past week where I had stumbled upon and subsequently ripped open an old wound.

I’m always trying to shed my grudges, but their claws are sunk pretty deeply nonetheless. Between the gaslighting and the casual disregard, it’s hard to find any closure. I have to make my own.

I broke my carbon pencil 3 times, at which point I had to call it quits.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Five. "You guys gossip about boys without me?"

warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional abusive/manipulation word count: 3.2k (not including pictures)

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Y/n dropped her phone on the bed and slowly rolled off and onto the ground with a soft THUD. She grunted, falling harder than she expected but the dull pain now present in her right shoulder felt deserved somehow. Why did she think she deserved it? Maybe because she was an unconfrontational worm even when the person needed to be confronted because he hurt her more than anyone ever had.

She closed her eyes and wiggled to get comfortable on the thin carpet in her room. Laying on the ground was relaxing to her, forcing her gamer back to straighten to how it was intended. It helped her think, being on the floor. She didn't know why but she didn't question it. Just laid on the floor in acceptance with the dirt and forgotten candy wrappers.

Why didn't she want to respond to Peter? Well, years of being with him and even the months of not being with him had taught her that her ex liked to get his way and liked to take his anger out in her verbally when he didn't.

You could say she's heard some terrible things over very simple inconveniences.

Y/n slowly pattered to her desk and slid on her headphones, finding the discord server Dream said he and George were on. It was a server that a lot of their friends were in, one that Y/n hardly went in since she still hadn't met a lot of them and wasn't super comfortable with talking in it yet.

She scrolled through the various text chats, one for boredom, one for stream questions, one for memes, one for pictures of pets, one for.... discussing the inevitable takeover of rats...? Y/n wasn't sure what that was about but she knew she didn't want to find out. The list went on. She was pretty sure they had made a channel for every possible message someone could ever send.

There were equally as many voice channels, most of them titled with the names of different games for when they only played with each other and didn't stream. Some of them were just random names and she noticed there was one to match the rat takeover text channel. Okay, who was responsible for that?

After what felt like an entire scavenger hunt and with many new questions in her mind, Y/n finally found the voice channel Dream and George were in and clicked on it. It was called memerz-only.

"I'm not a memer, am I allowed in here?" she asked. She hadn't realized how messed up her voice was since she hadn't talked all day.

"Holy shit, Bug, you sound awful."

She scoffed a laugh. "Thanks, Dream. Really means a lot." She did sound pretty scuffed. Her voice was a little scratchy from not talking literally all day.

"You doing okay, Bugsy?" George asked kindly, to which she hummed.

“I just have one quick question...”

“Mhm?”

“This is simple, please don’t elaborate further. There’s a channel on this server... did you guys mean rat as in BadBoyHalo’s dog or rats as in rats?”

Neither of them spoke for a minute before George understood what she was referring to. “Oh! Rats as in rats.”

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Yeah, Quackity—“

“No!” she interupted. “No! I said I don’t wanna know. I really don’t. I’m too afraid to understand.”

“Wha- HA, okay.”

“Good choice, Bugsy. I wish I didn’t know what it’s about. It’s a lot weirder than you’d think.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Dream said with a laugh. “How are you doing, Bug?”

"Neither of you are streaming, right?" she asked, doubling checking the twitch app on her phone to be sure.

"No."

"So I don't have to pretend to be happy and bubbly?"

"No, you can be as mundane as you'd like," Dream said. "We don't mind."

"Yeah, honestly, most of the time when Dream and I are on calls alone it's just us being super boring and hardly talking."

"That's..." she paused to find the right words and decided with, "actually really cute. You guys just enjoy each other's presence."

George scoffed and Dream giggled. "See, even Bug says we're cute, Georgie! Why can you tell me you love me?"

"I'll leave right now if you don't stop," George threatened. "Can we go back to how Bugsy's miserable?"

"I'm not miserable, I just..." she hesitated. She had already told George about why she was having a bad day, but Dream?

She didn't want to tell Karl because she knew he would yell at her. She didn't want to tell Sapnap because she didn't trust him not to tell everyone (on accident, of course). For some reason, it was a different kind of hesitation than with the others that made her not want to tell Dream. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to be... embarrassed? Maybe that was it. She thought it would be embarrassing to tell Dream about how her ex-boyfriend treated her like shit and how now he wants to get back together with her. Plus, she knew how everyone else individually would react but Dream was a complete mystery. Maybe he'd yell at her too and say she's stupid for being affected by an ex. Maybe he'd break down crying for some reason? Who knows?

"You don't have to tell us," Dream stated. "Seriously."

"It's embarrassing," she said, tucking her feet beneath her on her seat. As she said the words, she decided they felt right. She was embarrassed. "But George already knows."

Above everyone else, Y/n was okay with telling George about her situation because he and her tended to talk about their troublesome relationships quite often. He always came to her for advice and she to him. They were very similar in their ways of thinking and seemed to have lots of similar dating stories, even if neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. She knew he'd never judge her for thinking unclearly since he tended to do the same.

George hummed, not knowing what to say since she hadn't said much. She could tell he didn't wanna say something that might make Dream more nosey and start hounding her about telling him.

"What hap—never mind. Not my business," Dream said quickly.

"No, I mean, I kinda wanted to talk to George about it again anyway so I guess you can join in on the gossip." Guess my mouth decided for me on this one, she thought.

"Wait, what? You guys gossip about boys without me?"

"Oh my gosh, don't say it like that, Dream," George groaned. "Bugsy and I talk about relationship problems a lot, yes. Not just boys."

"How did I not know this?"

"Because you don't know a lot of things?"

"It's normally George sending screenshots of text conversations with girls and asking me how to let them down gently," Y/n explained with a giggle.

"Or Y/n talking about her asshole ex."

"George! What do you and Karl not get about not calling him names?"

"I'm so lost," Dream mumbled.

Y/n sighed. "Okay, well," she cut herself off with a groan. "It's so embarrassing. Basically, my ex asked me to 'chat' this morning which is code for he wants to get back together—"

"Do you know that for sure?" Dream asked.

"Yeah, we already decided that," George snapped. "Let her finish."

"Sorry."

"So he wants to get back together and I feel stupid for wanting to listen to what he has to say."

"How is that embarrassing?"

"Because he hurt me and I feel like an idiot because him even suggesting that means he doesn't realize how badly he hurt me. It makes me feel like, I don't know, like all the time I spent being upset was for nothing," Y/n explained in a soft voice. "And because his simple, like, five word text made me freak out all day to the point of exhaustion."

"I don't think you should be embarrassed, Bugsy," George offered.

"Have either of you, uh, have you ever considered dating an ex?"

"Didn't you just say he hurt you badly?" Dream asked. "You aren't thinking of getting back with him, are you?"

"No... but I want to stay friends so maybe I should hear him out?"

"Well, I've never gotten back with an ex," he said bluntly. "But to be fair, all my relationships have ended badly or for bad reasons so I've never wanted to see any of them again. Staying friends depends on why you and he broke up, I guess, but..."

"Um, how do I put this..." she trailed off. "He was mean to me."

"Then no? Simple."

"But I've forgiven him and I think he's changed."

"People don't change that easily. Didn't you break up like, a few months ago?" George asked.

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly I think if a guy was ever mean to you he doesn't deserve any more of your attention," Dream decided. "So, no. Don't even be his friend. Don't listen to a single thing he has to say."

"That's what I told her," George agreed.

"If that were the case, you guys shouldn't be friends," she argued. "You're mean to each other all the time."

"But we know it's a joke," George defended.

"So you're saying if someone is ever purposefully mean to you just once, you drop them forever?"

"Well, no," Dream said. "Not exactly. But it sounds like he was super mean to you since it's why you broke up."

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to go into detail. She was already uncomfortable enough talking about her personal life so much, but she trusted both of them and needed to get it off her chest and they were there and willing to listen. They had already established wanting to listen to her if she wanted to speak and right now, she wanted to speak. Maybe not the full story, but at least some. "He, um, well, the mean things he said, he said because he was trying to get me to see what he thought was the truth about myself."

Both of them were silent for a few moments. "I'm still confused," George admitted.

"Me too... But you don't have to tell us." Dream explained again. She thought it was sweet that they kept reassuring her that.

"I know, but I want to. If it's not too much for you guys..."

"No, go ahead, if you want."

"Uh, he lowkey emotionally manipulated me by telling me I wasn't good enough for anyone and stuff and how he was the only one who could ever love me. The second part he said truly believing that he was being romantic. There are a lot worse and specific things engraved in my brain but that's the gist of what he would tell me. He made me believe that I could never leave him because I could never be loved by anyone else. But he said it all in a way that... he thought he was just... letting me in on something no one else had the guts to tell me."

George gasped. "What?! Bugsy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was like that."

"Woah, what the hell? No. Absolutely not. Don't give this guy a second thought. Cut him off for good," Dream said sternly, angry that anyone would say that to anyone, especially to someone like Y/n. "Wait, so, you broke up with him?"

"Yeah. After Karl yelled at me a lot and explained his outside point of view, I finally realized Peter was gaslighting me and emotionally abusing me and stuff so I dumped him. I guess right now I'm just upset by it because I thought we were past this and I was healing and him reaching out affected me again. I'm just emotionally exhausted. Like I said, it hurts to know that he doesn't realize what he did to me."

"I'm really sorry, Bug," Dream said softly. "Gimme his address and I'll punch him for you."

She laughed through her nose. "That's okay. Thanks."

"Yeah, she can go set his house on fire if she wants. She's proven that already."

"Shut up, George," she said with a small laugh.

"Wh......at?" Dream stuttered and George briefly explained.

"Well, Bug, just so you know, in case you weren't aware, you're really cool and sweet and funny and we really like having you around–" Dream started.

"Oh, ugh, no don't do this," she tried to joke but he ignored her as he continued his speech.

"–and you're way too good to be hanging out with either of us, and whatever that asshole was showing you wasn't love. 'No one could love you like he did' because what he was doing was not love, it was abuse." Dream's voice had a certain gentleness to it as he spoke that comforted Y/n and made her believe him. He was blunt but it didn't stab her in the heart like it should have.

If Y/n ever cried, she might have just then from how sweet they were both being. But she didn't because that wasn't something she did. She never cried over anything Peter said, never cried during movies, and didn't cry then. But she did smile very fondly at the Discord screen in front of her.

"Thank you, Dream."

"You know I'm not good with words, but, yeah, what Dream said," George said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that thinking it was normal. Please, please, do not get back together with him and please don't be friends with him."

"He's fine as a friend though."

"Bug. Whether he's fine as a friend doesn't matter, he doesn't deserve to have you as a friend. He treated you like shit, it's okay to be a little cold to him."

She sighed. They were right. "Okay." There was a long pause before, "thanks, guys. Sorry for coming in here and dumping my problems on you—"

"Don't be sorry," George said. "We're the ones that asked you to come in and share. We knew what we signed up for and don't regret it."

"Seriously, Bug, we care about you. You're allowed to, you know, talk about yourself." How did he know that's what she meant by that sentence? The way he could read her mind was heart-warming.

"Also, George knows this but Dream, there's a strict no-telling policy about this kinda thing. Please don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't even think of it," he promised. "My lips are sealed."

"Good."

A soft animal noise came from one of their mics and Y/n strained her ears to listen. "Was that a cat?"

"Patches has entered the chat," George joked.

Dream chuckled. "Yeah, my cat just jumped on my lap."

"Aw, you have a cat? Lemme see lemme see lemme see!" Y/n begged. "Partly because I would love if we could stop talking about my ex-boyfriend and the other part because I love cats."

"There's pictures of her in the pets channel on Discord—"

"No, no I want a picture of her on your lap. Is she all snuggled up?"

"Yeah, she is."

"PleASE, Dream. I need to see the snuggly cat."

"Fine, fine, if you insist. Give me a second."

A few moments later, she got a DM from Dream and smiled at the picture. His room was dark but the computer screen cast a cold glow over a ball of fur on a lap clad in sweatpants. "Awww, she's so cute."

"Dream, I wanna see it too," George whined. "Send it to the pets channel."

"I'm literally making this my lock screen," Y/n informed, making Dream laugh.

"No, George, it's only for Bug. She's had a bad day so she gets exclusive Patches content."

"What? That is so messed up."

"You know what's messed up, George?" Dream asked. "You never come to me with advice on how to reject girls. We're on the phone for 12 hours a day but you can't talk to me about girls? Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"You'll just make fun of me."

"Why would I? What makes you think that?"

"Because Sapnap and I make fun of you? So obviously you and him would make fun of me?" George said with a laugh.

"....that's fair."

Y/n locked her phone and clicked the home button to admire her new lock screen. "I love her," she whispered.

Dream and George both laughed. "I'm regretting sending you that. You're gonna, like, make a shrine or something."

"What would be wrong with that? She's precious. She deserves a shrine."

"Yeah, Dream, you're the one that feeds her gormet cooked food," George teased with a laugh. "You probably have a shrine."

"That's normal! That's what people feed their cats! That's completely normal!"

"I don't," George countered.

"Then what do you feed your cat?" Dream asked.

"I dunno, normal cat food?"

"Wait! You have a cat too??" Y/n asked. "I feel like we're missing a huge detail and it's that George never told me he had a cat."

"And a dog."

"WHAT? GEORGE! Send me pictures!!!!!"

"I can't right now, it's like three am. They're sleeping. Look in the pets channel."

"You're the worst," she grumbled, clicking and scrolling to find his pets. She saw a lot of cute pictures of other peoples pets along the way but couldn't find George's.

"Hey, do your animals have English accents?" Dream asked, making Y/n laugh.

"What?" George scoffed. "You're so stupid."

"How would that even sound?" Y/n asked.

"Like..." Dream thought, preparing to test out how it would hypothetically sound. "Meow," Dream meowed in his best accent, failing miserable.

"Oh gosh, never do that again," Y/n begged.

Dream laughed into his mic. "That was disgusting. George, I really hope your pets don't have accents."

"They're animals, so probably not. And if they did, it definitely wouldn't sound like whatever that was."

"Oh come on–"

"OH I FOUND THEM." Y/n announced as she found a message from George in the pets channel with the message 'heard we're sharing our pets'. "GEORGE. THEY'RE SO CUTE."

"Are you gonna make them your background picture now?" George asked.

"What, no way! It's Patches!" Dream scoffed.

"Yeah, I'll make George's pets my home screen. Oh, what a good day." As soon as she said it, a metal bowling ball fell to her stomach, reminding her of all the reasons it was, in fact, not a good day.

She got off after a while, feeling the weight of a particular idiot man's stupid simple text catch up with her again. She thanked Dream and George for letting her join, they invited her to always hang out with them, and she went on her way.

Y/n fell on her bed and curled up under the covers as her mind started to wander from Peter to Dream. She was really glad she met him. He was a really good person and he was always so incredibly kind to her. George and Sapnap and Karl were all great friends, so caring and understanding and always looking out for her, but Dream was different and she didn't know why.

Maybe it was because he seemed untouchable still, like he had no reason to hang out around someone like her. But he wasn't untouchable in the celebrity was since he had a large following, because all of her friends did and they didn't seem untouchable. Then what was it? What set him apart from, say, Karl? She trusted Karl with her life and had known him for quite a while. She knew Dream for maybe a few weeks and almost trusted him the same amount.

Why?

She picked her phone up off the bed and pulled up Twitter, deciding to DM Dream since he was already existing in her mind rent-free. Might as well make him pay his rent by bothering him.

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A/N: EEEEEEEE I hope that all made sense lmaaoooo basically yn ex = gaarrbbaaagggeeeee and ruined her self-worth a lot!! not poggers!!!!!!  THANK U GUYS FOR BEING SO SWEET ALL THE TIME ALL FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK ON ALL THE  CHAPTERS!!! I love seeing you guys make predictions and tell me how aljkDFB chapters make you feel bc same :/

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk 

[theusurpersdog]

A Bird in a Cage

Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is all about boxing her in. Not only is she a hostage in King’s Landing, she’s also expected to pretend she’s not; she has to attend Court with a smile on her face, playing the role of Joffrey’s betrothed every day. Showing any honest emotion is punished by verbal and physical beatings. Her entire life becomes a performance she must put on to keep the monsters at bay. Everything about her world is meant to be stifling; from the physical restrictions to the emotional ones, it all makes her retreat deeper and deeper within herself.

But the real magic of this book is the moments where she finds a way to push back or escape her bounds . . . 

Captive

In more ways than one, Sansa is a captive in King’s Landing.

The first kind of abuse she’s subjected to is physical. Beatings are a part of her everyday life. Because Robb was crowned king, or because she was happy Janos Slynt was sent to the Wall, or because Joffrey decided to be especially cruel one day. Sometimes for no reason at all.

She has to take care to dress carefully to hide the bruises:

The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey’s gifts as well.

This should go without saying, but domestic abuse is not rational; nothing Sansa does could stop Joffrey from abusing her – no clever words or tricks she could do to keep him happy. Half the time he has her beaten, it’s because of something Robb did.

Because she could be beaten at any moment, Sansa always keeps one eye on Joffrey, terrified that his mood could turn:

So the king had decided to play the gallant today. Sansa was relieved.

. . .

The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon’s mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages.

Not only is she afraid of being hit, she’s genuinely afraid he could kill her:

When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat.

Sansa knows her life balances on an incredibly delicate string. Jaime being Robb’s prisoner gives the Lannisters a reason to keep her alive, but Joffrey had reasons to keep Ned alive, too. If anything were to set him off, he would kill Sansa without hesitation. That’s why Sansa feels safer with Cersei around to watch her son, because she’s the only thing that remains to keep Joffrey in check. And Sansa knows that if Robb were to do anything to Jaime, her life would be over:

Gods be good, don’t let it be the Kingslayer. If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

The beating she endures after Robb wins the battle at Oxcross is so bad that she can barely walk afterward; and as I already mention above, she has to be careful to wear dresses to hide her bruises.

And not only does she have to endure the abuse, she also has to carry on the farce for the rest of the court. Everyone knows she’s a prisoner, and everyone knows that Joffrey is having the Kingsguard beat her, but she’s not allowed to show it; all of her pain has to be kept hidden, pushed deep down inside herself.

Which leads me to the other kind of abuse Sansa experiences in King’s Landing. Everything about her time there is meant to emotionally destroy her. Joffrey intentionally tries to taunt her with threats to murder her family:

“It’s almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I’ll feed him to wolves after I’ve caught him.

. . .

“I’d sooner have Robb Stark’s head,” Joff said with a sly glance toward Sansa.

. . .

“I’ll deal with your brother after I’m done with my traitor uncle. I’ll gut him with Hearteater, you’ll see.”

He loves to play mind games with her, like when he promised to show Ned mercy and then cut off his head and said that was mercy. The constant way that he twists reality around messes with her head and leaves her understandably paranoid:

What if it was some cruel jape of Joffrey’s, like the day he had taken her up to the battlements to show her Father’s head? Or perhaps it was some subtle snare to prove she was not loyal. If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she’d come?

The constant cruelty she suffers, and Joffrey and Cersei’s profound betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones, make it hard for her to trust anyone, even when they show kindness:

He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He’s still a Lannister, her brother and Joff’s uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

How is she supposed to trust anyone, when everything around her is false? When everything is a carefully constructed jape at her expense? Especially because she’s surrounded by enemies; anyone making their home in Joffrey’s court is sworn to kill Sansa’s family.

And Cersei intentionally makes her isolation worse, rotating her bedmaids:

Sansa did not know her. The queen had her servants changed every fortnight, to make certain none of them befriended her.

Sansa truly has no one to talk to, not even friendly servants to keep her company. Her loneliness is so profound that she enjoys being watched over by Arys Oakheart because he’s the only person who will actually talk to her.

She realizes that no one in King’s Landing cares if she lives or dies:

She [Cersei] spared Sansa not so much as a glance. She’s forgotten me. Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won’t even think about it.

And before the Battle of the Blackwater started, Tyrion told her this:

“I ought to have sent you off with Tommen now that I think on it.”

Unlike Joffrey and Cersei, Tyrion doesn’t wish Sansa any harm; he orders Joffrey’s men to stop hitting her, tries to comfort her afterward, and doesn’t want her to be married to Joffrey. But she is not one of his priorities. It didn’t even occur to him to try and get her safely out of the city.

This is dehumanizing. Sansa has no friends or even anyone to talk to, and the people around her treat her life as an afterthought.

Sansa also suffers from the emotional fallout of Joffrey’s abuse. She blames herself when he has men hit her:

She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey.

The fear of being hit by Joffrey is nearly all-consuming for Sansa. It affects everything down to the smallest details of her life, like how she dresses and does her hair:

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he’s always liked me in this gown, this color.

Instead of getting to live as her own person, doing things to make herself happy, Sansa has to live for Joffrey’s satisfaction. Even when she’s being physically beaten, she thinks of him instead of herself:

Laugh, Joffrey, she prayed as the juice ran down her face and the front of her blue silk gown. Laugh and be satisfied.

Everything about her life is a performance for other people. She wears the gowns and jewels Joffrey likes, dressing to hide the bruises his men leave all over, and says the words they tell her to say:

“My father was a traitor,” Sansa said at once. “And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well.” That reflex she had learned quickly. “I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.”

Sansa repeats that phrase over and over throughout the book, always at once. Almost like a reflex. An actor on stage repeating their lines, rehearsed and performed a thousand times.

The worst part of the act is that everyone knows it’s exactly that: an act. Sansa is required, every day, to declare that her family are traitors who deserve to die, and for no reason at all. The way Joffrey abuses her is an open secret:

“He’s never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation.”

There is no way anyone could ever believe Sansa actually loves the boy who killed her father and intentionally humiliates her in front of his court. No matter how well Sansa tells the lie, it will always be see-through; especially because everyone knows that she’s a prisoner, being held until Jaime is freed. Sansa has to repeat the lie of believing her family to be traitors to try and please the Lannisters – if she said anything different she would be beaten or killed – but there’s no way they will ever be happy, because even when Sansa says the lies as convincingly as humanly possible, they know they’re lies because there’s no way they could be anything else. Sansa cannot win.

That’s never clearer than during her conversation with Cersei inside Maegar’s Holdfast, while the Battle of the Blackwater rages on:

“I pray for Joffrey,” she insisted nervously.

“Why, because he treats you so sweetly?” The queen took a flagon of sweet plum wine from a passing serving girl and filled Sansa’s cup. “Drink,” she commanded coldly. “Perhaps it will give you the courage to deal with truth for a change.”

If Sansa told Cersei the truth in this moment, she would be severely punished. And Cersei knows that, because she would be the one doing the punishing. Yet she verbally berates Sansa anyway.

The same dynamic plays out between Sansa and the Hound. At the end of A Game of Thrones, he gives her this bit of advice:

“Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.”

And as one of Joffrey’s Kingsguard, he knows first hand of the abuse Sansa suffers if she says anything that could even be construed as out of line. Yet when Sansa tries to follow the advice he gave her, he throws it back in her face:

“ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you? Singing all the songs they taught you”

Everyone in King’s Landing is always threatening to kill Sansa if she tells them the truth, and then calling her stupid when she repeats back the lies they want to hear. They’re forcefully dehumanizing her, demanding she remove all of her own thoughts and emotions and replace them with hollow lines they’ve given her, and then getting mad when her words are empty.

This plays on one of Sansa’s greatest insecurities about herself, which is her intelligence. Because of her low self-esteem, she already thinks of herself as being less-than. That’s very clear whenever she does an act of kindness – she steadfastly refuses to give herself credit for anything:

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court?

. . .

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

She never thinks to herself You are doing this because you are a good person. She always punishes herself internally, calling herself stupid and childish for believing in good things. Joffrey and Cersei have destroyed her so much that she can only see herself through their eyes, cruel and mocking.

The fear that she’s stupid is one of her greatest anxieties:

“My Jonquil’s a clever girl, isn’t she?”

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

And she doesn’t like to be watched by Ser Preston Greenfield because he treated her like a lackwit child.

Everyone around her is comfortable calling her stupid and emotionally abusing her, and it’s easy for Sansa to start internalizing those messages. Joffrey and Cersei’s betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones forever changed Sansa; the fear that she could ever be so wrong again, and the fear that she was stupid to believe in them, haunts her. Throughout her time in King’s Landing, her self-worth plummets, and she really starts to believe all the things that Joffrey, Cersei, and everyone is always telling her about herself.

Because she has to endure so much abuse and cruelty every day, it starts to become normal to Sansa. Compared to the way Joffrey treats her, anything would be an improvement; she has a soft spot for Arys Oakheart because he hesitated to hit her once:

Arys Oakheart was courteous, and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued.

At least he had argued is one of the saddest lines in a series of books that has a lot of sad lines. Sansa expects so little of the people around her, and is subjected to so much cruelty, that the mere act of hesitating before hitting a defenseless child is enough to stand out in her memory as an act of kindness.

And Sansa thinks this when Tyrion asks her if she’s flowered yet:

Sansa blushed. It was a rude question, but the shame of being stripped before half the castle made it seem like nothing.

This is a perfect moment to show the small ways in which Joffrey is breaking her down emotionally. Tyrion’s question is embarrassing and impolite, but Sansa doesn’t even care because it is so much less embarrassing than the humiliations Joffrey makes her suffer. Joffrey has set the bar for cruelty so high that Sansa is willing to ignore others mistreating her because it isn’t as bad as Joffrey.

The secret friendship she has with Dontos makes this even worse:

“And if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your father’s.”

Dontos is not wrong, but it doesn’t make it any less toxic a message for Sansa to hear: I’m cruel and hit you for your own protection. That’s on display when Joffrey is beating Sansa for Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Let me beat her!” Ser Dontos shoved forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a “Morningstar” whose head was a melon. My Florian. She could have kissed him, blotchy skin and broken veins and all.

Sansa is happy that Dontos is the one hitting her, because at least it’s better than Meryn Trant and Boros Blount. Dontos volunteering to hit her is an act of kindness for Sansa; which further reinforces the idea that someone hitting her is okay.

All of this works to lower Sansa’s standards and warp her perception of what is and isn’t okay; and in the case of Dontos, it is outright grooming on the part of Littlefinger. He intentionally paid an older man to win Sansa’s trust and get her used to the dynamic of secrecy and pushing boundaries, all so he can swoop in during A Storm of Swords. Sansa’s stuck in an endless cycle of her abuse conditioning her to accept more abuse.

All of the abuse and isolation Sansa suffers also leaves her incredibly depressed throughout A Clash of Kings. When she gets the note telling her to go to the Godswood, she thinks she will kill herself before she’s caught:

If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself.

After the bread riot, Sansa has panic attacks; so much so that she feels suffocated in small rooms:

Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She crossed over the dry moat with its cruel iron spikes and made her way up the narrow turnpike stair, but when she reached the door of her bedchamber she could not bear to enter. The very walls of the room made her feel trapped; even with the window opened wide it felt as though there was no air to breathe.

She likes to go up to the roof of the tower so she can see the entire city laid before her; it’s the only place where she doesn’t feel so claustrophobic and trapped.

That passage is also so fantastically written to show just how depressed Sansa is. Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She's too depressed to go riding around the courtyard; she doesn’t see the point in going around in circles. We know from A Game of Thrones that Sansa has plenty of hobbies: playing the high harp, needlepoint, reading, and sharing gossip with her best friend. In A Clash of Kings, she’s too isolated to have anyone to talk to, but we never see her doing any of her other hobbies either. Nothing brings Sansa happiness in this book.

Especially because she’s constantly surrounded by reminders of her trauma. The way Sansa copes with her grief is by pushing it out of her mind and pretending like it doesn’t exist:

Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears.

Sansa actively tries to forget about the people who mean the most to her because it hurts too much to think of them.

But she can’t forget about Ned when she’s surrounded by reminders of his death. Joffrey and Cersei intentionally throw it in her face, and she has to walk through the same halls his men died in:

Sansa moved as if in a dream. She thought the Imp’s men would take her back to her bedchamber in Maegor’s Holdfast, but instead they conducted her to the Tower of the Hand. She had not set foot inside that place since the day her father fell from grace, and it made her feel faint to climb those steps again.

The reminder that hurts the most is the presence of Ilyn Payne, a recurring figure in all of Sansa’s nightmares. Just his presence makes Sansa’s skin crawl:

She was climbing the dais when she saw the man standing in the shadows by the back wall. He wore a long hauberk of oiled black mail, and held his sword before him: her father's greatsword, Ice, near as tall as he was. Its point rested on the floor, and his hard bony fingers curled around the crossguard on either side of the grip. Sansa's breath caught in her throat.

. . .

She looked for Ser Ilyn, but the King's Justice was not to be seen. I can feel him, though. He's close

When Sansa’s afraid she’s going to die, it’s always his blade she fears:

I'll not escape him, he'll have my head.

. . .

Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won't even think about it.

. . .

If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she'd come?

. . .

If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

Watching Ilyn Payne kill her father is the worst thing that ever happened to Sansa, and she lives in constant fear that the same thing could happen to her.

The only thing that keeps her going is the thought of her family. Sansa is insecure in herself enough to start believing the abuse that Joffrey and Cersei inflict on her; but she loves her family too much to ever believe the lies about them. Even though she’s forced to declare them traitors every single day, her internal monologue is always fighting against it:

Rob will kill you all, she thought, exulting

. . .

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell.

She even finds a way to make Joffrey’s words work in her favor:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

One of the only moments where Sansa is even remotely happy in this book comes when she’s talking to Tommen, because he reminds her of Bran:

Princess Myrcella nodded a shy greeting at the sound of Sansa’s name, but plump little Prince Tommen jumped up eagerly. “Sansa, did you hear? I’m to ride in the tourney today. Mother said I could.” Tommen was all of eight. He reminded her of her own little brother, Bran. They were of an age. Bran was back at Winterfell, a cripple, yet safe.

Sansa would have given anything to be with him. “I fear for the life of your foeman,” she told Tommen solemnly.

That’s a short passage, but it so beautifully captures a small piece of what Sansa is truly like, outside of the abuse and the fearing for her life and the never being able to express her emotions. She loves her family so much and wants nothing more than to be with Bran again. And while Joffrey mocks Tommen for his knightly dreams, Sansa is so nice to him, building up his confidence before he competes. She’s old enough to have grown passed the childishness of Tommen facing the quintain, but because she knows how important it is to Tommen, she gladly plays along with him. We never got to see any scenes in A Game of Thrones of Sansa interacting with Bran and getting to act like a big sister, but this scene does such a good job of showing us that Sansa was a great sister to him.

Sansa also feels a much stronger connection to the Godswood, the ancestral home of her father’s gods:

The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood, even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes.

And even though Lady’s long dead, Sansa still has a strong connection to her wolf. When she believes she’s going to die during the Blackwater, Lady is the first thing she thinks of:

“Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.

The more abuse Sansa suffers and the more pressure is put on her to denounce her family as traitors and give up on ever going home, the more Sansa falls back on her family. That’s the only form of comfort she has in King’s Landing; the memory of Winterfell, and the belief that Robb is coming to save her.

The Lannisters have Sansa held captive physically and emotionally in King’s Landing; she has to suffer through beatings and repeat their words to stay alive. But as long as Sansa has her family - has Winterfell - to hold onto, there is a part of her that the Lannisters can never have. Even if it’s only within the walls of her own mind, Sansa has fought herself a small piece of freedom.

Courtesy is a Lady’s Armor

Trapped within the political machinations of King’s Landing, Sansa starts to learn how to play the game in earnest.

Even before she consciously starts to do it, though, Sansa is already in many ways an adept political actor. There’s a reason that all highborn children are taught from a young age how to conduct themselves; Westeros is a society built on the cornerstone of tradition, and knowing how to perform courtly behavior is important. Because Sansa took all of Septa Mordane’s training seriously, she already knows how to walk the dangerous tightrope of courtly speak:

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady’s armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, “I’m sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord.”

This is the same skill we saw in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, when she was proud of herself for telling the Hound that no one could withstand Gregor during the tourney – she managed to say something courteous without telling a lie. Just as she did then, Sansa manages to say an apology to Tyrion that’s true.

It also shows just how good Sansa is at keeping a level head, because just moments before she was thinking this:

Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."

Sansa could not think of a word to say to him. How could he be sorry for her losses? Was he mocking her? It wasn’t the gods who’d been cruel, it was Joffrey.

Faced with the men responsible for killing her father, she manages to think on her feet and fulfill the role of a Lady.

She also learns how to use that same skill to benefit herself. Whereas at first she was just trying to perform the functions of a Lady, she starts to use her courtesy to talk the people around her into helping her in such a way that they don’t even realize it’s happening:

“I would sooner return to my own bed.” A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. “This tower was where my father’s men were slain Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked.”

Tyrion Lannister studied her face. “I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa. Perhaps you are wiser than I knew. Permit me at least to escort you safely back to your own chambers.”

Part of why Sansa’s so naturally gifted at this kind of political double speak is because she understands people so well; she’s an empathetic and emotional character, and is extremely aware of the emotions of everyone around her. To affectively influence others, you need to understand what they want and be able to give it to them. Because Sansa is so aware of the people around her, she intuitively knows what they want; and all she wants to do is give it to them, because she doesn’t want to be hurt again.

The whole conversation she has with Tyrion in the Tower of the Hand does an excellent job showing how intelligent she is:

“I . . .” Sansa did not know what to say. Is it a trick? Will he punish me if I tell the truth? She stared at the dwarf’s brutal bulging brow, the hard black eye and the shrewd green one, the crooked teeth and wiry beard. “I only want to be loyal.”

“Loyal,” the dwarf mused, “and far from any Lannisters. I can scarce blame you for that. When I was your age, I wanted the same thing.” He smiled. “They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa?”

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell. “I pray for an end to the fighting.”

Again, she shows an unparalleled ability to lie without actually lying. And she’s clever enough to tell Tyrion what he wants to hear without saying anything that’s actually false, that way it can’t come back to bite her later. She learned her lesson in A Game of Thrones not to trust someone just because they’re kind, and is careful not to show her cards to Tyrion. But in case he’s being honest in trying to help her, Sansa does not reaffirm her love for Joffrey. That’s why her answer of I only want to be loyal is so smart; whether Tyrion is playing her false or no, Sansa has given him the answer he wants to hear. She’s kept all of her doors open without creating additional risk for herself.

Having to survive Joffrey every day also teaches Sansa how to get what she wants without actually having to say it. When she saves Dontos’ life, she plays to Joffrey’s ego:

Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos. "Take him away. I'll have him killed on the morrow, the fool."

"He is," Sansa said. "A fool. You're so clever, to see it. He's better fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn't he? You ought to dress him in motley and make him clown for you. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

All Sansa wants is to save Dontos’ life, and in the moment she comes up with a spectacular lie. Of course Joffrey would think it humiliating to make Dontos into a fool, so Sansa convinces him that would be an even greater punishment than death. She manipulates Joffrey into doing what she wants him to, and he doesn’t even know it’s happened.

Learning how to slyly insult Joffrey is one of the few ways Sansa can actually express herself as a prisoner, and she gets incredibly good at it. She starts by passive-aggressively getting one over on him:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

But as she gets better at politics she goes even further, actively tempting Joffrey into getting himself killed:

“They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest,” she said recklessly. “Though he’s older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown.”

Joffrey’s biggest insecurity is that he can’t rule in his own right; Cersei won’t let him do certain things, and Tyrion is in charge of him as the Hand of the King because he hasn’t come of age yet. While Joffrey’s anger is normally aimed destructively at Sansa, here she figures out a way to make it work for her; using his own emotions against him to do something reckless.

As well as learning the art of political double-speak, Sansa starts to understand the broader political machinations at work. Because she was a diligent student of Catelyn and Septa Mordane, she has almost every sigil in Westeros memorized; at Joffrey’s name-day tourney, she recognizes every competitor by their House. This may seem unimportant at first glance, but it’s actually very important; twice in Arya’s chapters in A Clash of Kings she wishes she knew Houses and Sigils as well as Sansa, because than she would know who she was dealing with.

Since Sansa knows who everyone is, she has head start in understanding where everyone’s loyalties lie. On top of that, she’s also incredibly observant; she’s constantly taking in everything around her, stopping to pay attention to every little detail and interaction between people. Even though Cersei and Joffrey are trying to keep it hidden, Sansa notices that Joffrey’s tourney is held inside the Keep because he would be mobbed if they went out into the city. And she knows the Redwyne twins are hostages just as much as she is:

The Redwyne twins were the queen’s unwilling guests, even as Sansa was. She wondered whose notion it had been for them to ride in Joffrey’s tourney. Not their own, she thought.

That’s not something anyone would have told Sansa. For one, no one is even allowed to talk to her per Cersei’s orders. For two, Cersei doesn’t let anyone acknowledge that she has hostages – in the same way Sansa has to pretend she is a guest of Joffrey’s court, the Redwynes have to pretend they’re willing guests. That means that Sansa, with no help from anyone, has of her own accord put all the pieces together and realized the Redwynes are political pawns just like her. Very impressive for a twelve-year-old.

Sansa’s attention to detail is clear when she meets Shae, and immediately notices something is not right with her:

Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to show her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes.

And when she’s entering Maegar’s Holdfast at the start of the Blackwater, and notices the guards:

The two guards at the door wore the lin-crested helms and crimson cloaks of House Lannister, but Sansa knew they were only dressed-up sellswords. Another sat at the foot of the stair – a real guard would have been standing, not sitting on a step with his halberd across his knees – but he rose when he saw them and opened the door to usher them inside.

Her encyclopedic knowledge of Westerosi Houses and her attention to detail combine to give her a really good head for political machinations. She sees how the Lannisters use empty titles to flatter their lesser servants while saving the best prizes for their family:

Hallyne the Pyromancer and the masters of the Alchemists’ was raised to the style of lord, though Sansa noted that neither lands nor castle accompanied the title, which made the alchemist no more a true lord than Varys was. A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister.

She manages to keep pace with Littlefinger and Tywin’s games:

She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He’ll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.

I cannot emphasize enough that Sansa, following the tiny thread of Littlefinger looks happy to be Lord of Harrenhal, manages to predict the Red Wedding a whole book before it happens. That’s pretty incredible. Right now, Sansa has no power to start pulling meaningful strings of her own, but it’s clear that she fundamentally understands the complexity of geopolitics and would be well-prepared to make decisions of her own when the time comes.

Another way Sansa continues to learn about the realities of ruling is through people around her trying to teach her lessons. Because Sansa’s a hostage and isn’t allowed to say anything she feels, she basically becomes a blank slate for people to project whatever they want onto. Cersei, Dontos, and the Hound all try to “teach” her something as they project all of their own fears, insecurities, and trauma onto her.

Dontos tells her to play the fool:

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

“Let them. You’re safer that way, sweetling. Queen Cersei and the Imp and Lord Varys and their like, they all watch each other keen as hawks, and pay this one and that one to spy out what the others are doing, but no one ever troubles themselves about Lady Tanda’s daughter, do they?”

Of course, Sansa already knows this. All the way back in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, Sansa thinks to herself that Moon Boy is smarter than he looks and is only pretending to be a fool so he can go wherever he likes; and Dontos confirms her suspicions when he reveals Moon Boy is a spy for Lord Varys.

It’s a consistent pattern that everyone around Sansa is constantly underestimating her; partly because of their own biases, and partly because Sansa is an almost entirely internal character, rarely letting people hear her honest thoughts. People assume she’s as hollow as the words they force her to say, but in reality she’s an introvert and a hostage.

The Hound also feels the need to impart some “lessons” onto Sansa:

Sandor Clegane snorted. “Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here . . . and every one better than you.”

Again, he’s assuming Sansa’s much dumber than she actually is. Sansa already knows that everyone in King’s Landing is a liar, and has sworn to herself never to trust them again.

The most valuable lessons Sansa gets are from Cersei during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Certain things are expected of a queen. They will be expected of you should you ever wed Joffrey. Best learn.” The queen studied the wives, daughters, and mothers who filled the benches. “Of themselves the hens are nothing, but their cocks are important for one reason or another, and some may survive this battle. So it behooves me to give their women my protection. If my wretched dwarf of a brother should somehow manage to prevail, they will return to their husbands and fathers full of tales about how brave I was, how my courage inspired them and lifted their spirits, how I never doubted our victory even for a moment.”

In this moment, even though she’s not doing a particularly good job actually doing it, Cersei articulates what’s really important about politics: optics. Her true motives for protecting the Ladies don’t matter as long as the Ladies believe that Cersei is doing it for the right reasons. That’s what monarchies are built upon. They’re a fragile house of cards constructed out of people’s belief.

That’s a lesson Sansa learns again when Joffrey sets her aside and takes Margaery as his bride. Sansa knows it’s going to happen, and is coached by Cersei how to react:

I must not smile, she reminded herself. The queen had warned her, no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. “I will not have my son humiliated,” Cersei said. “Do you hear me?”

But in front of the court, Joffrey carries on the charade, pretending Garlan’s offer of his sister’s hand is brand new information. Sansa watches from the sidelines and sees how people react; chanting and cheering to the theatre of it all. She gets to learn in real time how important it is to be performing your duties for the people. Other characters – most notably Jon Snow and Daenerys – can never quite figure that part of ruling out, and it has grave consequences.

I don’t mean performing in the negative sense. Of course, it can be used like that, like when the Tyrell’s intentionally starve King’s Landing so they can swoop in and make a big show of providing food. But it can also be used for good; it is an absolutely necessary aspect of ruling to let your people know what you’re doing for them. Jon in particular gets in trouble at the Wall because he doesn’t explain why he does things; he just does them and hopes people will trust him. Part of the courtly aspect of ruling is doing the work of showing your people how you’re helping them. That way you build trust with them, and they know you care for them. That’s what Sansa’s learning how to do.

Sansa’s also very good at the literal courtly aspect of politics; the time actually spent in court, sitting for hours and hours as the tedious day-to-day of ruling takes place. After the Battle of the Blackwater is over, Sansa has to sit in court for an entire day as soldiers are given their reward. She manages to stay focused the whole time, giving incredibly detailed accounts of each prize that’s awarded and each act of valor that caused it. She handles herself better than the grown men in the hall:

By the time all the new knights had been given their sers the hall was growing restive, and none more so than Joffrey. Some of those in the gallery had begun to slip quietly away, but the notables on the floor were trapped, unable to depart without the king’s leave.

Actual adults can’t even tolerate it, but Sansa manages just fine. This talent of hers is taken for granted by readers, but really stands out when you compare it to other characters. Sansa has the benefit of being raised to be a Lady, unlike a character like Daenerys who never had to sit through the training. Dany can’t make it through one day holding court in Meereen, and calls a lid early because she’s so bored – then stops holding court all together. Actually being a Queen is horribly bureaucratic, and that’s a skill that takes some practice to be able to perform.

Sansa’s ability to hold her own as a leader also really shines during the Battle of the Blackwater, when all hope seems lost and Cersei abandons the women in Maegar’s Holdfast:

“Oh, gods,” an old woman wailed. “We’re lost, the battle’s lost, she’s running.” Several children were crying. They can smell the fear. Sansa found herself alone on the dais. Should she stay here, or run after the queen and plead for her life?

She never knew why she got to her feet, but she did. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them loudly. “The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place in the city. There’s thick walls, the moat, the spikes . . .”

“What’s happened?” demanded a woman she knew slightly, the wife of a lesser lordling. “What did Osney tell her? Is the king hurt, has the city fallen?”

“Tell us,” someone else shouted. One woman asked about her father, another her son.

Sansa raised her hands for quiet. “Joffrey’s come back to the castle. He’s not hurt. They’re still fighting, that’s all I know, they’re fighting bravely. The queen will be back soon.” The last was a lie, but she had to soothe them. She noticed the fools standing under the galley. “Moon Boy, make us laugh.”

Sansa has no reason to do this. Cersei has given Ser Ilyn orders to kill her if the castle falls, and all the women in the holdfast are older than she is. She’s the last person who should be capable of standing up to take charge, considering her age and her impending death by execution.

She knows she’s faced with a choice: try and save her own life, or stay and comfort the women in the holdfast. And she decides to stay.

True Knights

This book sees Sansa’s worldview start to deepen. She’s only a child when the series starts, and like most kids has a very simple understanding of the world; there’s good and bad people, and good and bad things that happen. Songs were the way Sansa gave that worldview structure. They taught her that the good things happened to the good people, and the bad things happened to the bad people. Westeros is fair, and only the good people could be put in charge to do good things. Kings, queens, and knights were all avatars of the inherent goodness of the world; people put in place specifically to protect others.

This worldview became unsustainable for Sansa after Ned’s death. Every single rule the songs taught her was violated by her father’s execution. In her last chapter of A Game of Thrones, we see Sansa turn to nihilism as a result; her father is dead, her prince is a monster, and the knights sworn to protect her are the ones beating her. She doesn’t believe in anything anymore, so much so that she just wants to die.

In A Clash of Kings, Sansa starts to grapple with the overwhelming cognitive dissonance. Ned’s death and Joffrey’s cruelty taught her how evil people can be; but she also knows how good they can be, because she grew up in Winterfell. For all of their shortcomings, Ned and Catelyn were loving parents who tried their best to do good, and raised their kids the same.

Sansa still believes in goodness, but sees that everyone around her fails to live up to it:

Knights are sworn to defend the weak, protect women, and fight for the right, but none of them did a thing. Only Ser Dontos had tried to help, and he was no longer a knight, no more than the Imp was, nor the Hound . . . the Hound hated knights . . . I hate them too, Sansa thought. They are no true knights, not one of them.

Notice how she thinks They are no true knights. Sansa is surrounded by unimaginable cruelty, but she holds on to an undying sense of optimism. She knows that real knights don’t fight for the right, but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to believe in those ideals. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, when her belief in good was attached to specific people like Joffrey and Cersei, Sansa’s new worldview isn’t dependent on people to live up to. She believes in doing the right thing no matter what, even if the people around her let her down.

Sansa’s conception of beauty is the same way; in the first book, she assumed that beautiful people must also be good. But in A Clash of Kings, she reverses that order; people become either beautiful or ugly to her based on how good or bad they are. We view Joffrey through many POVs, and it is clear that by any standard that he is objectively attractive; yet Sansa now finds him ugly:

His plump pink lips always made him look pouty. Sansa had liked that once, but now it made her sick.

And she thinks this of the Hound:

The scars are not the worst part, not even the way his mouth twitches. It’s his eyes. She had never seen eyes so full of anger.

It’s not his physical appearance that scares her, it’s the anger in his eyes. That’s the part of him that’s ugly to her.

This evolution in Sansa’s understanding is never clearer than in her interactions with Dontos. The parts of his appearance that Sansa finds unattractive are his blotchy skin and broken veins, which are both symptoms of his constant drinking. It’s his drinking that bothers her:

“I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

. . .

This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard

But Sansa manages to look beyond that as soon as Dontos invokes Florian the Fool. As much as Sansa understands that the songs aren’t true, the idea still appeal to her. When Dontos says he wants to make amends and become a true knight, in spirit if not name, Sansa treats him as if he actually were a knight:

“Rise, ser.”

. . .

Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. “My Florian,” she whispered. “The gods heard my prayer.”

Sansa’s growing understanding of the world around her also changes the way she thinks of class. To some extent in A Song of Ice and Fire, every single character is classist because they’re all rich people in an extremely hierarchical society. The entire structure of kings, lord paramounts, lords, knights, and peasants requires you to be classist; if you believe everyone in Westeros is equal, the entire structure of the society crumbles. While some of the POV characters like Jon and Davos make great strides in understanding how bankrupt the Westerosi class structure is, they’re still generally classist; it’s almost impossible not to be when you grow up in the culture they did. Davos grew up poor, but the indoctrination of classism has given him an almost religious fervor to follow Stannis as the “true” king.

Sansa especially had a very rigid understanding of class in A Game of Thrones; Arya making friends with the butcher’s boy was anathema to her. But the more that Sansa sees the people in power as the monsters they really are, the more sympathy she has for the people below her. In the sept praying before the Battle of the Blackwater, she holds hands with a washerwoman:

The old woman’s hand was bony and hard with callus, the boy’s small and soft, but it was good to have someone to hold on to

The more Cersei and Joffrey try to isolate Sansa, the more they try to snuff out any feeling of goodness or loyalty she had, the more Sansa reaches out to connect with people. Everything bad that happens to her makes her feel more connected to the people of King’s Landing. She’s too young and privileged (class-wise) to have a fully functioning understanding of the true evils of hierarchy, but she fundamentally understands something most of the aristocracy do not: that the common people are people and should be treated with respect.

She knows the common people will suffer the most if Stannis breaches the city walls, and prays for theme:

She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike

Sansa gladly positions herself alongside the working people, not offended to be among them the way the Lannisters certainly are.

Sansa’s deepening worldview also gives her an incredibly complex relationship to the songs and stories she used to love. As I’ve already mentioned, she doesn’t disown them entirely; the high ideals of the songs are still very important to Sansa. The concept of a true knight, who would actually defend the defenseless, is the cornerstone of Sansa’s belief system, and she doesn’t need that person to actually be a knight – as long as they fulfill the moral obligation of being good. (Little does she know that very person is later tasked to find her.)

But now she knows that the stories lie. She understands their role as propaganda; when Arys Oakheart tries to say the peasants believe the comet heralds Joffrey’s reign, she doesn’t believe him:

“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure.

And she can’t even finish a sentence defending knights without realizing it isn’t true:

“Do you have any notion what happens when a city is sacked, Sansa? No, you wouldn’t, would you? All you know of life you learned from singers, and there’s such a dearth of good sacking songs.”

“True knights would never harm women and children.” The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

The words ring hollow in her ears because Sansa does know what happens when a city is sacked; earlier in a previous chapter, she thinks this:

The whole city was afraid. Sansa could see it from the castle walls. The smallfolk were hiding themselves behind closed shutters and barred doors as if that would keep them safe. The last time King’s Landing had fallen, the Lannisters looted and raped as they pleased and put hundreds to the sword, even though the city had opened its gates. This time the Imp meant to fight, and a city that fought could expect no mercy at all.

Cersei underestimates Sansa, assuming everything she knows is from a song, but here we see that Sansa knows that the songs don’t tell the whole story. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, she no longer holds them in complete reverence. The Sept used to represent everything beautiful about the songs to her:

Sansa had favored her mother’s gods over her father’s. She loved the statues, the pictures in leaded glass, the fragrance of burning incense, the septons with their robes and crystals, the magical play of the rainbows over altars inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx and lapis lazuli.

It was the song’s come to life. But after Ned’s death, she hates it:

When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she’d thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. “I want it burned.”

She literally wants to set fire to the things that used to represent the songs.

But songs and stories are the foundation of Sansa’s world; even though she doesn’t believe in them the way she used to, they still shape her perception. She doesn’t want to let them go:

There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can’t be lies.

She still uses the template of songs and stories to interact with the world, but now with the understanding that the world is so much more complicated. Whereas before, the songs represented a sanitized version of war, Sansa begins to understand it in its entirety:

Away off, she could hear the sounds of battle. The singing almost drowned them out, but the sounds were there if you had the ears to hear: the deep moan of warhorns, the creak and thud of catapults flinging stones, the splashes and splinterings, the crackle of burning pitch and thrum of scorpions loosing their yard-long iron-headed shafts . . . and beneath it all, the cries of dying men.

It was another sort of song, a terrible song.

Thinking about something through the lens of a song no longer represents a childish fantasy for Sansa. Her conception of them is no longer permanent; her view of the songs has changed to fit with her new reality, but it’s still a comforting way for her to make sense of the world around her.

She even incorporates her love of the songs into her political manipulations:

"You're lying," Joffrey said. "I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much."

"I don't care for him, Your Grace." The words tumbled out desperately. "Drown him or have his head off, only . . . kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please . . . not today, not on your name day. I couldn't bear for you to have ill luck . . . terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so . . ."

Her use of the songs nearly saves her life here. Joffrey doesn’t know enough to be sure that she’s lying, so once the Hound corroborates her story, he has to believe it’s true.

Sansa’s attachment to the stories is integral to her character, and GRRM does a tremendous job of making it important to the arc she starts in this book, which is her continued journey from pawn to player in the Game of Thrones. Sansa’s perspective as a political actor is entirely unique from anyone else for many reasons, and one of those is her connection to the ideal version of Westeros that lives in the songs. Even as Sansa realizes the songs are lies and that the world is so much darker than she thought, she never gives up on the hope that it could be good. Her unwavering optimism for the world, in the face of so much trauma, means that she will never stop trying to make the world better.

Flowering

Throughout her time in King’s Landing, Sansa’s experiences with sexuality are inextricably linked to violence. The way Joffrey physically abuses her comes with a nasty undercurrent of sexual violence. The total control he exerts over her means she has to let him do what he wants:

The king settled back in his seat and took Sansa's hand. His touch filled her with revulsion now, but she knew better than to show it. She made herself sit very still.

The subtext of that scene is drawn to the forefront when Joffrey has Sansa beaten after Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Leave her face,” Joffrey commanded. “I like her pretty.”

. . .

“Boros, make her naked.”

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa’s bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.

This is one of Sansa’s first experiences with sexuality, and it is nonconsensual and done specifically to humiliate her.

The relationship between sex and violence is never clearer than at the start of the Blackwater:

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it."

He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey

Joffrey is asking Sansa to kiss his sword; the metaphor here is not exactly subtle. To Joffrey, sex and violence are one in the same; having power over someone, hurting someone, turns him on as much as physical attraction. And as his betrothed, Sansa is on the receiving end of his sexually charged violence.

Unlike Joffrey, Sansa’s not turned on by violence, seeing it and sexuality as two separates things. And she would rather suffer through the violence, thinking to herself she would rather kiss the sword than kiss Joffrey. Her experiences with being found attractive to someone have all been so traumatic that actual violence scares her less.

Arguably the most traumatic experience she has is during the bread riot:

Sansa dug her nails into her hand. She could feel the fear in her tummy, twisting and pinching, worse every day. Nightmares of the day Princess Myrcella had sailed still troubled her sleep; dark suffocating dreams that woke her in the black of night, struggling for breath. She could hear the people screaming at her, screaming without words, like animals. They had hemmed her in and thrown filth at her and tried to pull her off her horse, and would have done worse if the Hound had not cut his way to her side. They had torn the High Septon to pieces and smashed in Ser Aron's head with a rock. Try not to be afraid! he said.

In the nightmares she has of that day, she dreams of being murdered; a knife cutting through her stomach until she’s left in bloody ribbons. It’s not hard to see the violent sexual imagery in that description. Sansa knows what those men planned on doing to her, and the memory haunts her. It’s no coincidence that she wakes from those nightmares to her first period:

“No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now.

The way GRRM writes her reaction is so visceral. As tears streams down her cheeks, she tries to wash herself, cuts apart her sheets, burns them, and tries to drag her entire bed into the flames as well. And the whole time she does this, she keeps thinking They’ll know or What will I tell them? or I have to burn them. She’s so completely and utterly terrified that anyone could ever know, she’s hardly even thinking. It’s just sheer, overwhelming panic.

This line in particular stands out:

The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

Down to jewelry she wears and the way she styles her hair, Sansa’s body belongs to Joffrey. Her job in King’s Landing is to look pretty for him in the hopes that it will save her from his wrath. Her body exists solely to please him. She’s literally stripped of her own agency and control.

Flowering is the last straw for Sansa because it means she can be tied forever to Joffrey through marriage, and he’ll be free to rape her and force her to have his children. And there’s nothing Sansa can do to stop it. Her own body has betrayed her by merely existing.

Sansa’s period is again equated to physical violence during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“You look pale, Sansa,” Cersei observed. “Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.”

Then a second time, Cersei compares sex to violence:

“You little fool. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. You’ve got another one between your legs, and you’d best learn to use it.”

Through Cersei’s eyes, we get the clearest summary of the point GRRM is trying to make. Existing as a woman in Westeros is inherently oppressive to the point of smothering the life out of her. Where the men are given swords, women are given marriage and childbirth; but the latter is no less violent than the former. In Cersei’s words:

“We were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently. Jaime learned to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, while I was to be sold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly. Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

“But you were queen of all the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa said.

“When it comes to swords, a queen is only a woman after all.”

In many ways, Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is centered around this idea; the violence of femininity in Westeros. Being a child isn’t enough to spare Sansa the horrors. The whole reason she’s trapped in King’s Landing to begin with is because of her body; the Lannisters want to use her like property – a broodmare to sire them sons to inherit Winterfell.

It’s no surprise the climax of Sansa’s chapters in A Clash of Kings pushes this concept to its furthest bounds . . .

Ser Dontos and The Hound

Throughout Sansa’s chapters in King’s Landing, GRRM is deconstructing the trope of the Princess in the Tower. Sansa more than any other character is aware that her life takes place within a story, and she prays to the gods to send her a hero to save from the Red Keep. GRRM had already subverted the idea of a charming Prince with Joffrey in the first book, so A Clash of Kings subverts the trope of a knight coming to save her. That’s why her two protectors in King’s Landing are Dontos and Sandor Clegane – two men who aren’t quite knights.

For most of the book, the narrative treats Dontos and Sandor as foils. The story of why either one is not a knight puts them on two opposite ends of a spectrum. Dontos has his knighthood taken away from him because he’s too soft. He would rather drink and let people laugh at him than fight with a sword, which is why Joffrey makes him a fool. On the other hand, the Hound likes killing too much to be a knight:

“Let them have their lands and their gods and their gold. Let them have their sers.” Sandor Clegane spat at her feet to show what he thought of that. “So long as I have this,” he said, lifting the sword from her throat, “there’s no man on earth I need fear.”

This dichotomy between them is made clearer in the way Sansa has to escape their advances. Around Dontos, she’s dodging kisses:

"Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck." He swayed toward her.

Sansa dodged the wet groping lips, kissed him lightly on an unshaven cheek, and bid him good night. It took all her strength not to weep.

But it’s a steel kiss she has to dodge from the Hound:

He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.

The idea of Dontos and Sandor as opposites is driven home further by their different approaches to Sansa’s love of stories; Dontos uses it to win Sansa’s trust:

“I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself." His voice dropped. "The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . ."

"Florian," Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

"Sweet lady, I would be your Florian," Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.

The Hound uses it to berate and belittle her:

“There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don’t ever believe any different.”

Sansa backed away from him. “You’re awful.”

“I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful. Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”

But underneath the superficial differences, Dontos and the Hound have the exact same relationship to Sansa. When Joffrey is having her beat after Robb’s victory at Oxcross, both make efforts to help her – Dontos volunteering to hit her with a melon instead of a sword, and the Hound telling Joffrey “enough” – but stop short of doing anything that would put themselves in danger. They both make advances on Sansa against her will – Dontos with kisses and the Hound with knives, but the overt sexual nature of both cannot be denied. They both position themselves to Sansa as a sort of mentor figure, telling her how to act and what to believe, with the implicit (and often explicit) message that she’s not smart enough to think for herself and it would really be in her best interest if she just trusted them instead. Both men position themselves as Sansa’s “protector”, but they never protect her from much of anything; in the few moments they’re actually given the opportunity, like during the Battle of the Blackwater, they both panic and leave her to fend for herself.

What really connects the two men is how they use Sansa. To them, she’s the paragon of youth and innocence; the way she believes in the stories reminds them both of what they used to be like before the world beat them down. Sandor was a boy who played with toy knights before Gregor burned his face, and Dontos was saved as a child by the knight of knights Barristan Selmy.  While they’ve both grown jaded, Sansa brings out the parts of them that still believe in the stories. That’s clear from the way Dontos reacts to the Lannisters winning the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Oh! the banners, darling Sansa! Oh! to be a knight!”

And even though the Hound claims to hate the stories, it’s a song he wants from Sansa:

“Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids.”

Sansa as the princess in a tower appeals to the fantasy of both men to be her hero.

But this is a subversion of that trope, not a straight retelling. Particularly in regards to Sandor, GRRM really deconstructs the destructive nature of this male fantasy. Before Sandor asks Sansa to sing him a song, he comments on her body:

“You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you’re taller too, almost . . .”

Sandor wanting to play the knight with Sansa is always tied to his sexual attraction to her; in every single instance, GRRM always ties them together. There is never one without the other. It should go without saying that this is not good; Sansa is barely twelve, and hasn’t even had her first period when Sandor’s sexual advances start. She is a child. In Maegar’s Holdfast, she’s shocked that men would view her sexually:

“Enough drink will make blind washerwomen and reeking pig girls seem as comely as you, sweetling.”

“Me?”

“Try not to sound so like a mouse, Sansa. You’re a woman now, remember?”

This passage also very clearly draws the connection between Sandor’s relationship to Sansa and violence. Cersei explains to Sansa the way battle makes men into monsters around women, and then the next chapter Sandor appears in Sansa’s bedroom with a knife. This is not meant to be a romantic scene, or else GRRM would not have framed it with threats of rape and violence.

This is further re-enforced by the song Sansa sings to Sandor. When he holds the knife to her neck, he demands she sing the song of Florian and Jonquil:

He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

But Sansa can’t remember the words, and instead sings the Mother’s Mercy hymn:

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, sooth the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It is incredibly symbolic that the Hound demands Sansa sing him a song of romance, but she physically can’t; the only song she can remember the words to is one of forgiveness.

So much of Sansa’s narrative in A Clash of Kings is people demanding things that she can’t give them. Joffrey wants her loyalty, Cersei wants her words, Tyrion wants her trust, and Dontos and Sandor want her love. Everyone is pulling her in different directions, and her entire personality starts to crumble under the pressure; there’s no way she can give all of these people everything they want. Something has to give.

And when Sansa can no longer play her role, when the fear of dying is too visceral for her to wear her courtesy like an armor, the one thing Sansa can still give Sandor is her mercy. . .

Radical Empathy

The running thread that connects all of the themes in Sansa’s chapters is her being trapped. Physically through Joffrey’s abuse, emotionally through Joffrey, Cersei, Dontos, and Sandor, and even by herself mentally as she begins to internalize the abuse. Everything about the Red Keep is meant to turn Sansa cruel and self-interested, just like everybody else; even if they aren’t intentionally cruel like Joffrey, they’re okay with Sansa being hurt because that’s just how life is, like Cersei. Or Dontos and the Hound, who don’t intend to hurt Sansa but do because they’re too caught up in their own narrative to acknowledge her humanity. Even Arys Oakheart, who really doesn’t want to hurt her, but is too afraid to say no and defy the class structure of Westeros.

That makes Sansa’s defiance through empathy stand out in such radical contrast. The kindness Sansa shows everyone, even those who hurt her, is how GRRM brings the songs to life. Sansa doesn’t love those stories because she’s silly and naïve; she loves them because they justify her belief in the inherent goodness of being kind.

Empathy and kindness are Sansa’s defining character traits, and that’s why her arc in A Clash of Kings opens with her saving Dontos’ life:

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything, only . . . Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm.

Even though just moments earlier she had noted Joffrey’s mood was turning dark:

The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon’s mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages.

The way Sansa stands up for Dontos is particularly notable because he had the chance to do the same for her in A Game of Thrones, but chose not to:

Sickly Lord Gyles covered his face at her approach and feigned a fit of coughing, and when funny drunken Ser Dontos started to hail her, Ser Balon Swann whispered in his ear and he turned away.

- Sansa V

Dontos wouldn’t even risk treating Sansa with basic courtesy, yet she risked her live to save his.

And that’s not the only time Sansa stands up to Joffrey to save someone:

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag.

- Tyrion IX

The only other character we ever see move to actually stand up to Joffrey is Tyrion, who is also the only person in court who doesn’t have to be afraid of Joffrey’s retaliation. Everyone else sits by day after day and watches as Joffrey abuses Sansa and says nothing; or worse, they actively participate. But whenever Sansa sees Joffrey hurting someone, she risks herself to make him stop.

Sansa also uses her kindness to give herself courage:

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

She’s too afraid to speak back at Joffrey when he’s abusing her, but as soon as she sees him mistreat Tommen, she finds the courage to stand up for others.

Kindness is almost an involuntary reflex for Sansa:

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

Lancel Lannister, who stood by and egged the crowd on as Sansa was stripped and beaten after the Battle at Oxcross. She has every reason not to help him; she knows if she stays in that room, with the battle all but lost, Ser Ilyn is going to kill her solely because of the Lannisters’ spite. She has no reason to stay and help Lancel. But she can’t stop herself.

The moment where Sansa’s kindness stands out the most, though, is when the Hound comes to her room during Blackwater:

Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps.

I think reading this passage out of context is what allows certain fans to paint this scene in a romantic light. The softness of Sansa reaching out to touch Sandor is an indelible moment. But it does the moment a disservice to read it that way. This scene is so well written because of what comes before it:

“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. “Still can’t bear to look, can you?” he heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

Afraid for her life, Sansa closes her eyes. But Sandor is too bitter, jaded, and wrapped up in his own self to realize that’s why she closes her eyes; he thinks it’s because she still can’t look at the burned ruin of his face. He came to her room with kindness the furthest thing from his mind; the flames dancing on the Blackwater Rush made him scared like a wild animal, and he’s come here to get something from Sansa – whether she wants to give it or no.

(And while certain people are interested in carrying a lot of water to redeem this character, GRRM has really left no ambiguity in Sandor’s intentions. The passage He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed, taken in tandem with his confession to Arya, I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf, make it very clear that Sandor intended to rape Sansa. That is not up for debate.)

Sansa singing the Mother’s Mercy hymn is the last thing Sandor expected. The idea that in this moment, as Sandor becomes all of the worst things he’s ever believed about himself, about to do one of the most monstrous acts a person can do – that in that moment, Sansa could still show him mercy, is enough to stop him. He can no longer pretend that all the songs are lies and that everyone is only pretending to be good, because in this moment Sansa is still somehow capable of showing him kindness. 

Sansa’s ability to have empathy for seemingly irredeemable characters is not limited to Sandor (though certain shippers would like to pretend that’s some unique characteristic of their relationship, it most certainly is not). The dynamic between Sansa and Cersei is so rich because of Sansa’s inability to hate her, even though Cersei is responsible for pretty much every bad thing in Sansa’s life.

The Sansa and Cersei dynamic is one of the narrative’s most dynamic and complex, as Cersei represents a dark mirror of Sansa. Both were in love with the idea of becoming Queen as children, but arrived in King’s Landing to find their Prince is not who they thought he would be – Cersei both literally and figuratively, as she realizes she’s not to marry Rhaegar Targaryen but instead Robert Baratheon. They’re both subjected to emotional and physical abuse by the King for things that aren’t their fault – Robert hates Cersei because she isn’t Lyanna, and Joffrey hates Sansa because of his fight with Arya on the Trident.

But Cersei’s Lannister upbringing and life have made her cruel in all the ways Sansa is kind. She can see the parallels between herself and Sansa, but instead of reacting with empathy, she uses it to justify her cruelty:

“You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation. I did.”

Being afraid of the men in her life has taught Cersei that’s the correct way to wield power:

“Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

But Sansa reacts the opposite way:

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

This line has become the definitive statement of Sansa’s character because it so wholly embodies her ethos. Cruelty is not in her nature, and her instinct is always to show kindness. It also ties a direct connection to her own personal experiences shaping how she wants to be as Queen:

“Fear is better than love, Mother says.” Joffrey pointed at Sansa. “She fears me.”

Sansa knows what it feels like to be afraid, and she never wants anyone else to ever feel like that. Where the cruelty Cersei suffered taught her it was normal and good to rule that way, Sansa learns what it feels like to be at someone else’s mercy. If she ever has control over someone, which she will in books to come, she’s learned to always be kind because she knows what it feels like when someone isn’t.

All of her chapters in A Clash of Kings are full of moments that show how much Sansa values kindness. While I’ve already highlighted the life or death examples, she also shines in the small moments, like when she encourages Tommen before he faces the quintain at Joffrey’s name day tourney. And she comforts him when Myrcella leaves for Dorne:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound."

- Tyrion IX

She tries to comfort Lollys Stokeworth across the bridge to Maegar’s Holdfast:

She greeted them courteously. “May I be of help?”

Lady Tanda flushed with shame. “No, my lady, but we thank you kindly. You must forgive my daughter, she has not been well.”

“I don’t want to.” Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. “Please, please, I don’t want to.”

Sansa spoke to her gently. “We’ll all be thrice protected inside, and there’s to be food and drink and song as well.”

Her prayer in the Sept before the battle starts shows just how much she cares for everyone:

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

There’s only one person in the whole of Westeros Sansa won’t extend her empathy to:

But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey’s sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him.

This line feels especially important. A lesson that’s drilled into Sansa time and time again by Cersei and Sandor is that her kindness makes her weak. It was used against her in A Game of Thrones, where her trust in Cersei and Joffrey left her completely vulnerable to Ned’s death. But this passage shows that it is not weakness that makes Sansa kind - it’s strength. For a character as kind as she is, and subjected to so much abuse, it would be easy to see her narrative as someone repeatedly letting herself be run over. By including this line, showing that Sansa’s empathy is a choice she makes – and making it clear that she chooses not to have it for Joffrey – it shows that Sansa still has control over herself, and will set boundaries. 

Instead of using her experiences in a negative way like Cersei, Sansa learns to carefully apply the lessons of her life; she won’t let abuse stop her from being kind, but she knows when to stop herself from trusting someone again.

Because Sansa’s kindness and optimism are the most important aspects of her character, her arc in A Clash of Kings ends there. Joffrey setting her aside in favor of Margaery is an emotional rollercoaster for Sansa:

Dontos waited in the leafy moonlight. “Why so sadface?” Sansa asked him gaily. “You were there, you heard. Joff put me aside, he’s done with me, he’s . . .”

He took her hand. “Oh, Jonquil, my poor Jonquil, you do not understand. Done with you? They’ve scarcely begun.”

Her heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons.”

Throughout A Song of Ice and Fire, the narrative is constantly testing Sansa’s commitment to her ideals. Everything she knows is constantly turned on its head, going from a dream to a nightmare. The momentary joy she feels knowing she doesn’t have to marry Joffrey is only allowed for a second, until it collides with Dontos’ harsh reality.

But instead of ending there, the narrative takes a page out of Sansa’s book and leaves on a vision of hope for the future:

It was a hair net of fine spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. “What stones are these?”

“Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight.”

“It’s very lovely,” Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.

“Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It’s magic, you see. It’s justice you hold. It’s vengeance for your father.” Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. “It’s home.”

[toujourspur13]

The Black family / Walburga Black / canon.

As I said before I do not care that much about canon/fanon/headcanon because transformative works by definition include a wide variety of different interpretations. However, I am forever perplexed when I see uncompromising opinions on the Black family - particularly the unwavering certainty that Sirius Black’s parents were psychotic abusers. All personal opinions aside - why is this so popular?

I mean - it’s absolutely ok to headcanon this version and to play with it - but saying 'don’t you dare say they did not physically and emotionally abuse Sirius' is a little strong, isn’t it?

This is a mystery to me. So…let’s discuss my favourite subject…Again.

Let’s stick to the facts. The frequently cited things proving the abuse in the Black family are as follows:

Sirius said his parents were awful maniacs (pureblood ideology)

he ran away from home

he was severely depressed in OoTP

Kreacher

Portrait

So…when you say that Sirius’s parents were abusive…you mean exactly what? These people got cold feet when they saw the real nature of Voldemort - I guess it somehow implies that they did not share his methods…that they were against violence as a tool to get purebloods in charge.

But then it usually goes this way: ‘well at least he was verbally and emotionally abused by his family’ - but is it so? Is this based on the portrait of Sirius's mother? She insulted strangers who took over her house and her runaway son - how does this prove anything about how Sirius and Regulus were raised and treated when they were kids? I agree it’s rather impolite - jkr did a good job showing how purebloods perceived others ( those below them) -but in all honesty, this has very little to do with Sirius and his childhood.

Why to make Sirius a victim at all? - c’mon he was tougher than this, he spent 12 years in Azkaban; are you actually saying that a portrait throwing insults at everyone is worse? I doubt that. And is it such a surprise that a mother who lost her son (that said son actually ran away and abandoned his duty) would be that furious at him when seeing him again...even if it’s only a portrait...I believe it to be a rather unpleasant experience for a parent when a child runs away.

We already talked about the portrait a lot - I don’t even want to mention it here- - I feel we should rather pay more attention to the fact that Sirius himself was not an angel.

I am not saying the colourful vocabulary of Walburga Black should be used…but Sirius himself upon seeing Snape  immediately  recognised his weakness and went for it without any hesitation …we are talking about Sirius who in fact was quite a renowned bully ( I mean - we know for a fact that from time to time Sirius and James got carried away)…

And it was Sirius who sent Snape to meet and chat with a real werewolf (yes, I agree - he was not thinking this through - he probably was just vexed and fed up with Snape and thought he wouldn’t go there, would get cold feet or idk run away…But it actually changes nothing. If a drunken driver hits someone it will be 100% his fault whether he means it or not. Whether he is in a fragile mental state or not - such situations are definite. It’s the same with Sirius - even if he did not mean anything bad he should have understood the cost of his mistake - all teenagers make silly things but not all of them send their classmate to meet a werewolf - James thought it not a very good idea as I recall… -

So we see that Sirius was not an angel from the start and I can hardly believe he was a victim by nature. His behaviour loudly manifested that he used to get what he wanted with no thought of the consequences.

And all those pictures of bikini-clad girls on the walls in his room prove that he was quite a spoiled boy who had nothing to fear from mum and dad. Harry himself noticed «Sirius seemed to have gone out of his way to annoy his parents». All this shows that Sirius was not afraid of his parents at all. What kind of masochist would suffer for motorbike posters? That would be ridiculous.

Let’s move to Kreacher: If Sirius’s mother had been a monster why even mention her heart?  JKR wrote this for a purpose and this heavily implies that Sirius's situation was never meant to be ‘the abusive heartless parents vs the poor helpless victim’.  

The fact that Sirius ran away and hence broke his mother’s heart says against the popular idea that he was not loved by his family, that he was always the second one, that they abused him. I’m 100% certain that Kreacher told the truth in that scene. Why would he say something like this if it were not the truth - something like…that his beloved mistress having been so upset over Sirius running away that it broke her heart. Just tell me one reason that would have justified such a lie - why to say this at all?

Then this: “Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal … my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them … that’s him.”…. “He was younger than me,” said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”

I’ve already said it before - this ‘better son than me’ is exactly what insecure 14-year old kids like to say. Well...he’s a bit older but it’s not as if he had a life and a chance to mature. Moreover, I don’t know if it comes as a great shock but a lot of teenagers like to badmouth their parents…usually, it involves something like ‘those bloody uptight retrogrades know nothing of the real world’ (it fades away when they get closer to thirty).

To be serious, I find that it’s just another example of similarities between Sirius and his mother. They clearly did not know what it means to be composed, polite, and respectful. Yeah…I think that, on the whole, parents are owed their children’s respect (unless they are completely inadequate - somehow I don’t believe this was the case). Someone should teach both of them what mutual respect means. Anyway, there is nothing in this quote that says that Sirius was subjected to any forms of abuse - it’s about how Sirius justified his running away,  how he saw the situation.

There’s also the fact that Sirius was incredibly unhappy because he was back at his childhood home and having to spend time around anything that reminded him of his family: “Hasn’t anyone told you? This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius’s voice sounded”.

Here it comes…the severe depression that makes people question the severity of his abuse… I have thought a lot about this because it is the reason why some consider ‘the abusive blacks' canon while others believe it was more of a tragedy of the family rather than the banal brutality.

Of course, Sirius was upset in that house - but I don’t think he suffered the memories of his unhappy childhood - I think he suffered from the strong feeling of guilt. Being in that house meant an everyday reminder that he was a failure. And it’s not even a lie. If you look at his whole life you’ll see that he literally failed everyone in his life: he failed James and Lily - they were dead and he unwillingly became the reason. It was his plan that turned everything into a tragedy.

And, to some extent, he failed Harry- he was not around him like James and Lily would have wanted. Sirius did not give him the real family - he only promised they'd be the one «when it’s all over».

And finally - he failed his parents, his brother, his own family.

Is it possible to live with so much guilt in your heart?

I don't think that Sirius completely forgot who he was born to be. If the family keeps traditions and can trace its existence back in centuries you can't shake it off even if you want. I doubt Sirius switched it off just because he had griffindor friends. He was the last Black - it is tragically poetic that he was once the hope of his family and then this family died with him. If Sirius had heart (and I truly believe he had a heart) he knew exactly what it meant to be trapped in the house that represented the death of his family. A constant reminder  that he was the last one.  

“The others’ hushed voices were giving Harry an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though they had just entered the house of a dying person”. 

I think that the scene when he threw his father's ring away - he threw it away because it was all over for his family. It was the end of the dynasty - and for him it was all over long before he met Bellatrix for the last time.

Well, I admit Sirius' situation is open for wide interpretation but I don’t think the abusive black household is a canon thing - of course, it’s fanon. It makes Sirius a hero who broke the chains when in fact he ended up being a victim of his own life.

You know, it always seems strange to me that fandom when discussing Walburga usually overlooks the simple truth of life - that even if you are clever enough and mean good for your loved ones it is still possible to end up on the losing side, on the dark side.  However, mistakes don't automatically turn humans into monsters.

To some extent Sirius’s story represents the consequences of war.  No-one is protected; the whole families could be wiped off the face of the earth. It’s a simple yet profound idea. It correlates with the main idea of hp books far better than the ‘abusive psychopaths’ (there are already Voldemort and Bellatrix - there is no-one who can beat them in this department).

All I say - it’s okay to imagine them bad if you want- your right - but don’t write everywhere that it’s canon because it is not.There is no need for such inflexibility especially when it comes to the fandom - a place where everyone should be welcomed and their views on the books be respected.

[thesevenumbrellas]

@random-nerd-3 came up with a dark!AU where Caleb is emotionally abusive towards Willie, so I came up with a few hc.

TW: ABUSE, PANIC ATTACKS

We definitely see the emotional manipulation already in canon with him using Alex against him and also threatening to stop him skateboarding.

Caleb convincing Willie that it’s for his own good because if he left he might get in trouble and he’s already died once and he let everyone down when he died, hurt so many people from being stupid and careless, wouldn’t it just be better if Caleb was in charge?

Willie breaking down one day because he’s so used to being told he’s doing everything wrong that it’s moved past anxiety to just acceptance. Like he knows he does everything wrong so there is no changing it so he doesn’t care. But Alex is so genuine with his compliments that it’s overwhelming. Usually he just brushes them off but one day Alex looks so so earnest and just says “you’re amazing” and that’s all it takes for Willie to start sobbing because he’s not and he doesn’t understand why Alex believes that. He feels like he’s lying to Alex somehow but he doesn’t know how. And that’s when Alex realizes that Caleb is a problem.

Willie who doesn’t realize that Caleb is emotional abusive until Alex explains that’s exactly what his own parents did to him. And Willie being angry for Alex but can’t be angry for himself. Because he’s so used to it and doesn’t understand that he is worth the anger.

Willie arguing with Alex that Alex doesn’t get it but Alex is super patient and understanding cuz he went through the same thing so he slowly goes over every single reason why Willie deserves love and safety.

Willie being touchstarved from after years of being locked up in the club without anyone.

Alex starts to always *always* touch Willie even if it’s just a hand gently on his arm or their pinkies linked. They never let go of each other.

EXCEPT when Willie gets overwhelmed and then he will tap Alex twice to show that he needs a break and Alex will let go immediately.

Willie asking Alex permission to do simple things like enter the room or offer his opinion but it’s done really subtle so Alex doesn’t even notice until AFTER the big talk and he has to sit Willie down AGAIN and explain he doesn’t have to ask permission because they always want to hear his thoughts. And this turns into Alex encouraging the band to ask Willies’ opinions on stuff so THEN Willie starts offering lyrics or places to play and becomes a huge influence in their music.

Willie not liking to stay inside even to listen to them practice because he’s conditioned to think of inside as belonging to Caleb where as outside the club he’s free. Which is also why he only likes to break into empty places even tho lifers can’t see him anyway. So Alex notices that and asks if they can practice with the garage door open and they move the couch outside so then Willie starts watching more.

And Carlos joins and even tho Carlos doesn’t know Willie is there they sit next to each other all the time and Willie will joke along with him.

Setback days where they go find a forest or somewhere outside away from people. Alex skips practice. They go and lay in the grass and sometimes they hold hands or cuddle but sometimes Willie can’t stand it so then they just lay side by side. Sometimes they talk together but sometimes Willie cant even speak, so the Alex fills in the gaps. He tells Willie every funny story he can remember from practice and every good moment they’ve had as a band.

Willie has learned not to believe words, because Caleb lies all the time. He doesn’t believe it when caleb says good job or “I’m not mad” because it’s always a double sided sword. So when Alex figures this out they develop a touch system instead. Two taps means he’s overwhelmed, but there’s more. Two brushes on the arm is him asking Alex if he’s mad, and then alex will either verbalize what’s bothering him (usually anxiety wise) or squeeze willies wrist once.

Another sign they develop later on is when willie isn’t sure what the boys are talking about. Like if they’re being affectionate with each other but Willie doesn’t quite understand. Or if they’re joking with him and he doesn’t quite get it. He has literally not socialized with anyone “his age” in decades and Caleb was always dangerous to talk to. The dancers and singers knew better than to develop friendships. To Willie starts to tap Alex three times if he needs something explained later. Then Alex will have to explain sometimes something simple “no Reggie and Luke don’t actually hate each other they were just bickering over song titles it’s okay they’ll be best friends again after they wrestle over it.” But sometimes it’s heartbreaking. “No Luke still likes you even though you didn’t laugh at his joke fast enough. He didn’t notice I promise and even if he did, that’s not something he would ever be angry at you for.”

Willie doesn’t have panic attacks like Alex does so he never had any idea they were panic attacks. There’s no actual panic. In fact it’s the opposite. He goes emotionally numb and just shuts down. He can’t talk, can’t do much, he just feels as if he’s shut up in his own brain. So when this first happens Alex recognizes it instantly because at least some of it is familiar. He poofs Willie away without a word to the boys and brings them to a quiet spot. Then he steps a few feet away and just talks Willie through it. It’s over an hour later when Willie feels well enough to actually speak but then he’s brushing it off like “oh I’m fine that just happens sometimes.” And Alex has to explain “Babe that was a panic attack.”

After that they add ANOTHER signal of just one tug on a sleeve. They both use it on each other and it means “I am about to have a panic attack.” Then they’ll make some sort of excuse and poof the other out

Anyway Willie relearning what love and safety means with Alex there to support him.

[wisteriabookss]

Why Nesta Stans Stan Nesta: For The People Who Don’t Get It.

I think one of the biggest misunderstandings towards Nesta fans is that we don’t acknowledge or understand that she emotionally, mentally, and verbally abused Feyre. We know. We very much know. And if you come across a fan who doesn’t, then please educate them! I’m not afraid to say that this past week I was educated on this as well. 

I think a lot of anti-nesta’s focus on Nesta in ACOTAR, whereas Nesta stans see the progression of her character throughout all three books. Nesta stans see her potential to grow, learn, and change. This in no way makes her past actions excusable. Nothing can do that. But clinging to the idea that someone isn’t able to evolve will cause more harm than good, especially in cases like Nesta’s where they have shown they have the ability to evolve (examples coming later in the post).

Not all abusers can learn from their mistakes; some are just too far gone and don’t see their actions as wrong. But some can, and I believe Nesta is one of those who can. My reason for this belief comes from reading ACOWAR.

1.) Nesta holds herself back from saying something insulting to Mor after she says something in a rude tone to her, and instead approaches Feyre. This shows that a) She’s learning to hold her tongue instead of saying something stupid, and b) She says something nice to Feyre, which she wouldn’t have done two books ago. I’m not saying her being nice to Feyre makes up for how she acted towards her before, but the point is to show that Nesta is now uplifting Feyre instead of tearing her down.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Rhys crooned.

“Cassian.”

I didn’t think I’d ever heard his name from her lips. Cassian had always been him or that one. And Nesta had been … pacing in the foyer.

As if she was worried.

I opened my mouth, but Mor beat me to it. “He’s busy.”

I’d never heard her voice so … sharp. Icy.

Nesta held Mor’s stare. Her jaw tightened, then relaxed, then tightened—as if fighting some battle to keep questions in. Mor didn’t drop her gaze.

. . . . .

“Mor was watching both carefully—the warning she’d given my sister ringing silently between them. And Nesta, Mother damn it all, seemed to remember. Seemed to rein in whatever words she’d been about to spit and just approached me.

And nearly made my heart stop dead with shock as she said, “You look beautiful.”

2.) Nesta didn’t know Feyre couldn’t read, so if I see one more post using “Nesta didn’t teach Feyre how to read,” as another example of how Nesta abused her, I’ll scream. There are a lot of other examples to show her abuse, but not this one. Nesta clearly wanted to teach Feyre how to read if she knew she couldn’t. 

“I didn’t know you couldn’t really read,” Nesta said as she paused before a nondescript section, noticing the way I silently sounded out the words of a title. “I didn’t know where you were in your lessons—when it all happened. I assumed you could read as easily as us.”

“Well, I couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ask us to teach you?”

I trailed a finger over the neat row of spines. “Because I doubted you would agree to help.”

Nesta stiffened like I’d hit her, coldness blooming in those eyes. She tugged a book from a shelf. “Amren said Rhysand taught you to read.”

My cheeks heated. “He did.” And there, deep beneath the world, with only darkness for company, I asked, “Why do you push everyone away but Elain?” Why have you always pushed me away?

Some emotion guttered in her eyes. Her throat bobbed. Nesta shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in sharply. “Because—”

2b) The reason why I highlighted the last part is because I think Nesta is showing shame here. I think she is ashamed of what she did, and she can’t be ashamed of her actions unless she knows her actions were wrong. Like I said up top, an abuser who can’t change is one who doesn’t see their actions as wrong; Nesta sees her actions as wrong.

3.) When they’re running from the Ravens the King of Hybern sent to kidnap Nesta, we see a moment of trust between the sisters that I don’t think we’ve ever seen anywhere else in the entire series. I love this because it highlights their growing trust in one another.

“I gripped Nesta’s fingers in my free hand. She glanced at me.

I need you to trust me, I tried to convey to her.

Nesta read the emotion in my eyes—and gave the barest dip of her chin.”

4.) In that cabin, Nesta basically left Feyre to fend for herself. In this excerpt of them escaping the Ravens, you see Nesta not wanting to leave Feyre. 

“Run toward the light,” I breathed to Nesta. “I’ll hold them off.”

“No.”

. . . . . 

We didn’t have time—for whatever was down here to find us. We didn’t have time—

“Run,” I breathed. “Please.”

She hesitated.

“Please,” I begged her, my voice breaking.”

5.) So many people try to shit on Nesta for trying to cross the wall but not actually crossing it because she couldn’t find a hole, which I think is so stupid cause it’s not her fault if she couldn’t find one. You can tell from this quote that even the simple act of trying meant the world to Feyre, so I hate it when people try to diminish what she did.

“Rhys stared her down. But Nesta looked to me—and I could have sworn fear shone there, and guilt and … some other feeling. “You told me to run.”

“You’re my sister,” was all I said. She’d once tried to cross the wall to save me.”

5b) An extra scene from ACOTAR to show ya’ll just how much this meant to Feyre:

“My hands slackened at my sides. “You went after me,” I said. “You went after me—to Prythian.”

“I got to the wall. I couldn’t find a way through.”

I raised a shaking hand to my throat. “You trekked two days there and two days back—through the winter woods?”

She shrugged, looking at the sliver she’d pried from the table. “I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.”

“You did that—for me?”

Nesta’s eyes—my eyes, our mother’s eyes—met mine. “It wasn’t right,” she said again. Tamlin had been wrong when we’d discussed whether my father would have ever come after me—he didn’t possess the courage, the anger. If anything, he would have hired someone to do it for him. But Nesta had gone with that mercenary. My hateful, cold sister had been willing to brave Prythian to rescue me.

“What happened to Tomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled.

“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.”

And for her, with that raging, unrelenting heart, it would have been a line in the sand.

I looked at my sister, really looked at her, at this woman who couldn’t stomach the sycophants who now surrounded her, who had never spent a day in the forest but had gone into wolf territory … Who had shrouded the loss of our mother, then our downfall, in icy rage and bitterness, because the anger had been a lifeline, the cruelty a release. But she had cared—beneath it, she had cared, and perhaps loved more fiercely than I could comprehend, more deeply and loyally. “Tomas never deserved you anyway,” I said softly.

My sister didn’t smile, but a light shone in her blue-gray eyes. “Tell me everything that happened,” she said—an order, not a request.

So I did.

And when I finished my story, Nesta merely stared at me for a long while before asking me to teach her how to paint.”

5c) Remember how in the beginning of ACOTAR Nesta insulted Feyre’s paintings? A couple hundred pages later she just asked Feyre to teach her. Nesta was already progressing (albeit at a snails pace I know) in ACOTAR, before anything had really happened.

6.) Back to ACOWAR, in this excerpt Nesta is asking Feyre why she didn’t hesitate going into the Battle of Adriata. I think the reason Nesta asks this question is because in the cabin, Nesta thought Feyre was trying to help their family in order to gain power over them, rather than an act of selflessness. It forces Nesta to think about her actions in the past, and, in the hopes of doing better, she decides to go to the High Lords meeting with them to fight alongside them. Feyre’s selflessness inspired Nesta to do better, and Nesta took the opportunity to do so. This is growth.

“Nesta only spoke when I rose to my feet. “You’re going to that meeting in two days.”

“Yes.”

I braced myself for whatever she intended to say.

Nesta glanced toward the front windows, as if still waiting, still watching.

“You went off into battle. Without a second thought. Why?”

“Because I had to. Because people needed help.”

Her blue-gray eyes were near-silver in the trickle of morning light. But Nesta said nothing else, and after waiting for another moment, I left, winnowing up to the House for my flying lesson with Azriel.”

. . . . .

“I felt Cassian’s attention slide to us, felt them all look as Nesta said, “I’m going with you.”

No one said anything.

Nesta only lifted her chin. “I …” I’d never seen her stumble for words. “I do not want to be remembered as a coward.”

“No one would say that,” I offered quietly.

“I would.” Nesta surveyed us all, her gaze jumping past Cassian. Not to slight him, but … avoid answering the look he was giving her. Approval—more. “It was some distant thing,” she said. “War. Battle. It … it’s not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means … telling them what happened.”

“You’ve given enough,” I said, my dress rustling as I braved a solitary step toward her. “Amren claimed you were close to mastering whatever skill you need. You should stay—focus on that.”

“No.” The word was steady, clear. “A day or two delay with my training won’t make any difference. Perhaps by the time we return, Amren will have decoded that spell in the Book.” She shrugged with a shoulder. “You went off to battle for a court you barely know—who barely see you as friends. Amren showed me the blood ruby. And when I asked you why … you said because it was the right thing. People needed help.” Her throat bobbed. “No one is going to fight to save the humans beneath the wall. No one cares. But I do.” She toyed with a fold in her dress. “I do.”

7.) In front of the entire IC and all the High Lords, Nesta makes it clear that she wouldn’t have survived those years in the cabin without her sister. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is the first time she’s ever even acknowledged or spoken about it.

“She looked to Kallias and Viviane. “I am sorry for the loss of those children. The loss of one is abhorrent.” She shook her head. “But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.” She jerked her chin at me. “Were it not for my sister … I would be among them.”

My eyes burned, but I blinked it away.”

8.) When Nesta senses something wrong at the High Lords meeting, she comes so close to saying she cares for Feyre, and cares for her safety. Cause really, the only person there who she would admit to caring about would be her sister (I know Cassian is there but she wouldn’t have admitted that lets be honest lmao). Also, in the first book Nesta was very selfish and only cared (outwardly) about herself and Elain. We see her being selfless here. 

“Something is wrong,” Nesta insisted.

“I’m not doubting you feel that way but … If none of the others are picking it up—”

“I am not like the others.” Her throat bobbed. “We need to leave.”

“I can send you back to Velaris, but we have things to discuss here—”

“I don’t care about me, I—”

9.) Book one Nesta wouldn’t pick up a pinky to help anyone or anything, but in ACOWAR she basically becomes a medic. She gets her hand dirty.

“No, Nesta only made sure that Elain was dozing in her tent, and then offered to help cut up linen for bandages.”

. . . . .

“How do I fix it?” she asked. Her hair had been tied in a loose knot atop her head earlier in the day, and in the hours that we’d worked to ready and distribute supplies to the healers, through the heat and humidity, stray tendrils had come free to curl about her temple, her nape. Faint color had stained her cheeks from the sun, and her forearms, bare beneath the sleeves she’d rolled up, were flecked with mud.

. . . . .

“I helped with the wounded long into the night, Mor and Nesta working alongside me.“

10.) When Nesta was pacing outside of the tent waiting to hear about Cassian’s condition, Mor attacks her again for literally caring about his well being. And Nesta, again, bites her tongue, says nothing, and walks away. I’m currently working on another post that goes in depth about the relationship between Nesta and Mor, but the point of this excerpt is to highlight how Nesta’s immediate response is to no longer bite back when someone comes after her. That being cold and bitchy all the time isn’t worth it (although I do think Nesta would be in the right here to say something back if she wanted to).

“I squinted at the watery light—the very last before true dark. When my vision adjusted … Nesta stood by the nearest tent, an empty water bucket between her feet. Her hair a damp mess atop her mud-flecked head. Watching us emerge, grim-faced—

“He’s fine. Healed and awake,” I said quickly.

Nesta’s shoulders sagged a bit.

She’d saved me the trouble of hunting her down to ask her about tracking the Cauldron. Better to do it now, with some privacy. Especially before Amren arrived.

But Mor said coldly, “Shouldn’t you be refilling that bucket?”

Nesta went stiff. Sized up Mor. But Mor didn’t flinch from that look.

After a moment, Nesta picked up her bucket, mud caked up to her shins, and continued on, steps squelching.” 

11.) When the sisters slept beside each other after Elain was saved, Feyre points out how different they sleep now. Instead of fighting with one another over the space, they held onto each other. This symbolizes their growing togetherness and how before, they were against each other, and now, they’re a team.

“A moment later, another warm body nestled on my left. Nesta’s scent drifted over me, fire and steel and unbending will.

Distantly, I heard Rhys usher everyone out—to join him in checking on Azriel, now under Thesan’s care.

I didn’t know how long my sisters and I lay there together, just like we had once shared that carved bed in that dilapidated cottage. Then—back then, we had kicked and twisted and fought for any bit of space, any breathing room.

But that morning, as the sun rose over the world, we held tight. And did not let go.”

12.) Nesta tells them to use her as bait to get the King of Hybern away from the cauldron. Literally a suicide mission. Probably the most selfless act she’s done this entire series.

Nesta stared toward that armada, toward our father fighting in it. “Use me. As bait.”

I blinked at the same moment Cassian said, “No.”

Nesta ignored him. “The king is probably waiting beside that Cauldron. Even if you get there, you’ll have him to contend with. Draw him out. Draw him far away. To me.”

13.) Nesta doesn’t stop fighting the King of Hybern after already spending all her power trying to do so. She starts to lure him away from Cassiand and the cauldron in order to buy Feyre more time.

“Nesta rushed to him, kneeling.

Not to comfort.

But to pick up his Illyrian blade.

Cassian tried to stop her as she stood. As Nesta lifted that sword before the King of Hybern.

She said nothing. Only held her ground.

The king chuckled and angled his own blade. “Shall I see what the Illyrians taught you?”

He was upon her before she could lift the sword higher.

Nesta jumped back, clipping his sword with her own, eyes flaring wide. The king lunged again, and Nesta again dodged and retreated through the trees.

Leading him away—away from Cassian.

She managed to draw him another few feet before the king grew bored.

In two movements, he had her disarmed. In another, he struck her across the face, so hard she went down.

Cassian cried out her name, trying again to crawl to her.

The king only sheathed his sword, towering over her as she pushed off the ground. “Well? What else do you have?”

Nesta turned over, and threw out a hand.

White, burning power shot out of her palm and slammed into his chest.

A ploy. To get him close. To lower his guard.

Her power sent him flying back, trees snapping under him. One after another after another.

The Cauldron seemed to settle. All that was left—that was it. All that was left of her power.”

14.) Do I even have to say it?

“Nesta surged to her feet, staggering across the clearing, blood at her mouth from where he’d hit her, and threw herself to her knees before Cassian. “Get up,” she sobbed, hauling at his shoulder. “Get up.”

He tried—and failed.

“You’re too heavy,” she pleaded, but still tried to raise him, fingers scrabbling in his black, bloodied armor. “I can’t—he’s coming—”

“Go,” Cassian groaned.

Her power had stopped hurling the king across the forest. He now stalked toward them, brushing off splinters and leaves from his jacket—taking his time. Knowing she would not leave. Savoring the awaiting slaughter.

Nesta gritted her teeth, trying to haul Cassian up once more. A broken sound of pain ripped from him. “Go! ” he barked at her.

“I can’t,” she breathed, voice breaking. “I can’t.”

The same words Rhys had given him.

Cassian grunted in pain, but lifted his bloodied hands—to cup her face. “I have no regrets in my life, but this.” His voice shook with every word. “That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.”

She didn’t stop him as he leaned up and kissed her—lightly. As much as he could manage.

Cassian said softly, brushing away the tear that streaked down her face, “I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

The King of Hybern stepped into that clearing, dark power wafting from his fingertips.

And even the Cauldron seemed to pause in surprise—surprise or some … feeling as Nesta looked at the king with death twining around his hands, then down at Cassian.

And covered Cassian’s body with her own.

Cassian went still—then his hand slid over her back.

Together. They’d go together.

I will offer you a bargain, I said to the Cauldron. I will offer you my soul. Save them.

“Romantic,” the king said, “but ill-advised.”

Nesta did not move from where she shielded Cassian’s body.”

15.) Nesta killed the King of Hybern. Killed their biggest foe, the person who was going to rip apart their entire world. I know Elain stabbed him, but as she herself put it:

“Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

Elain studied the trees ahead. “Nesta did. I just stabbed him.”

16.) And finally, Nesta walks in side by side with Feyre into the treaty meeting. This also symbolizes the bond they’ve been forming with each other, that goes beyond just sisterhood.

“I offered my hand to my sister. “I want you here for this. With me.”

Nesta considered that outstretched hand. For a moment, I thought she’d walk away.

But she slid her hand into mine, and together we walked into that room crammed with humans and Fae. Both parts of this world. All parts of this world.”

All these examples show a different Nesta than the Nesta in book one. She has become selfless, more aware of her own actions, and grown up. 

To close this out, it was so painful reading ACOFAS because of the regression of Nesta and Feyre’s relationship when they were going down such a good path. I think the reason why SJM made Nesta go down an even darker hole than Feyre (not trauma wise, I’m not comparing the two, but recovery wise) is because she wanted to show another example of how trauma can have an effect on people. 

All of the IC are still healing, but they’re all healing relatively the same way, ie. surrounding themselves with each other and going about business as usual. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, if it works for them then thats amazing. 

But it’s disappointing when I read people vilify Nesta for not healing the same way, and not wanting to interact with the IC, or for distancing herself from her sisters. Like, it’s obvious she’s hurting, and I don’t even think she knows how to heal herself or knows what to do. People who are severely depressed don’t know how to get out of it, so calling her a bitch for not wanting their help is so tone deaf and narrow minded. No one is a terrible person for pushing people away. The girl has just literally become a shell of herself.

When people say Nesta stans are “glorifying abuse” because they like Nesta, it’s sad because they really just relate to Nesta’s depression. They relate to her feeling devoid of feeling, and relate to how she pushes those closest to her away because she doesn’t know how to deal with her pain. Most importantly, they saw all of the examples I listed when reading, and saw Nesta growing and evolving, and they want to see her become a better person. They want to see her fight and confront her own demons. 

It’s not about discarding her abusive behavior. It’s about confronting it and hoping she learns and grows from it.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Healer!Draco

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 The Four Doors by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  48845 Tags: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Auror Harry Potter, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Consent Due To Patient/Healer Dynamic, Mind Fucking (Literally), Not Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Where The Falcons Fly by MyNameIsThunder Rated:  Mature Words:  283177 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Seeker Harry Potter, Quidditch, accidental magic, Blood and Injury, Not Epilogue Compliant, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Post-Hogwarts, Scars, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Whump, POV Third Person Limited, Mutual Pining, Power Couple, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Eventual Fluff Summary:  Where the Falcons fly, there’s blood. Where Draco goes, there usually is too. That’s his job, after all – heal morons and the people who get in their way. He could deal with that, he thinks, if only there wasn’t Harry fucking Potter, Seeker, who gets injured a lot even by the Falcons’ standards and seems to have made a habit of inserting himself in Draco’s private life. Draco just wants to heal people – normal people, that is – and do his research in peace. Well, when does he ever get what he wants? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Better Kind of Love by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  25768 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, discussion of injuries, Broken Bones, Injury Recovery, Skele-Gro, Physical Therapy, Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Quidditch, Masturbation, Rimming, Shower Sex, Locker Room Sex, Semi-Public Sex, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  Harry, along with the rest of the Puddlemere United team, is determined that this year will be the year they finally win the Quidditch League Cup. But when a Bludger-induced fall leads to a missed Snitch, broken bones, and an extended stay in St Mungo's, that conviction is put to the test. If Harry wants to have any chance of returning to the pitch this season he has to put all of his faith in his assigned Healer. Which is no easy task when that Healer is Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Meet Cute by rewmariewrites Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4203 Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is a Little Shit, Banter Summary:  It may be important to note that Draco Malfoy meets the love of his life when he is twenty-five years old. Well. In the spirit of fairness, that statement is both technically inaccurate and incredibly vague. Draco isn’t just twenty-five years old, when he meets the love of his life, he’s also in his fourth year of the Healing Programme at St. Mungo’s, and this isn't actually the first time they've ever met. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor Rated:  Mature Words:  9667 Tags: MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Roadtrips, Music, Implied Sexual Content, on the bonnet of a car, Pining, jealous boyfriend, mentions of Abusive Relationship (emotionally and verbally), First Kiss, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Touch, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020, First Time, Bittersweet Ending Summary:  For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on an international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched Draco going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for Harry though. Maybe for just one night... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All is NOT well... by iStiz Rated:  Mature Words:  65500 Tags: HP: EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Build, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Healer Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Depression, Substance Abuse, Rehabilitation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Mild Sexual Content, vague sexual content, Happy Ending Summary:  The war may be over but all is NOT well. Harry feels lost, the Ministry is still trying to control him, his friendships with Ron is rocky at best, he doesn't sleep enough, and then there's Draco Malfoy. Things haven't turned out quite the way Harry expected them to, but at least he still has Hermione to help him (and maybe some new friends if he can trust letting them into his life). ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding Rated:  Explicit Words:  71753 Tags: Sleep disorders, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in all honesty this has a bunch of pain, problematic therapist/patient stuff, mind healer!draco, auror!Harry, no seriously the therapist/patient stuff is super problematic but welcome to fanfic, Child Abuse Summary:  Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with. Guaritore Christopher Black is an exceptional psychiatrist with a specialisation in sleep disorders. He is also Draco Malfoy in a Glamour. Minister Hermione Granger knows the dangers and the complications, but she needs her best friend back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 oxygen by MaesterChill Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4065 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Smoking, Cigarettes, Talking, Breathing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Minor Character Death, A Kiss, Fanart, POV Second Person Summary:  Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Indebtedness by RecIt_Ralph Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  50685 Tags: HP: EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Slow Build, Fluff and Angst, forgiving Harry, Chaptered, My First Fanfic, Swearing, Snark, Eventual Happy Ending, Second Chances, Getting to Know Each Other Summary:  Of all the Healers in all of St Mungo's - why does Harry always end up with Malfoy? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Best Laid Plans by CreateImagineWrite Rated:  Explicit Words:  10105 Tags: Marriage Proposal, Lust Potion/Spell, Secret Relationship, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Barebacking Summary:  He hadn’t intended to be fully clothed with Harry naked at this point, or to have just made him take an antidote to a poison or have had to Incarcerus him to the bed. But they’ve never had a very normal relationship anyways. And damn him if he’s going to let Ginevra Weasley get in the way of him marrying this man. Fourshot. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Iustitia & Prudentia by skeptique Rated:  Explicit Words:  36302 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Everyone is going to Therapy, Taking their Meds, Calling Their Person, Slow Burn, Procedural That's Fairly Light on the Procedural Part, Canon Content Warnings Apply, brief discussion of infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Discussion of Ongoing Food Related Issues, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Confinement, Pansexual Theo Nott, Case Fic, Mystery, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco Malfoy’s entire life fell apart after the War. He’s putting it back together as best he can with what is available to him. But Harry keeps interfering and won’t leave him alone. When he agrees to be an Auror consultant to help Harry, is it more than he bargained for? The world shifted under Harry Potter’s feet and he found himself lost and purposeless. He anchors himself in uncovering the truth about a dangerous pureblood terrorist group. Is Draco the key to solving these crimes, or is he a distraction? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Do No Harm by Lokifan Rated:  Explciit Words:  58114 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Quidditch, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Recovering From The War And Becoming Better People, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Community: hd_erised, Break Up Summary:  Draco hadn’t planned to end up as team Healer for the Chudley Cannons, but it’s a Healer job, so he’ll take it - and then Potter shows up, the glorious centre-of-attention Seeker, as ever. And someone with a grudge is sabotaging Quidditch teams, and it’s only a matter of time before the Aurors’ eyes turn to Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Prove We're Not in a Rut by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  2140 Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Healer Draco, POV Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Wall Sex, well it's actually against a door, Top Draco, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy Summary:  Draco and Harry are not in a rut. Draco sets out to prove it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary:  St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

[haleigh-sloth]

what do you think about the development of bakugou and deku’s relationship so far? or just about bakugou’s character development in general?

i’ve seen pretty mixed reactions to bakugou’s character development. there are some that are happy with it, there are some that are extremely critical, and i’ve even seen some people compare him to endeavor.

when i first started mha, i didn’t like bakugou at all, but he’s changed a lot since the first chapter. i personally like his development, but i still think that there’s quite a bit way to go. bakugou has atoned through his actions, but he has yet to verbally apologize.

(sorry if you’re not interested in this topic, i just like hearing people’s opinions on it.)

Any of the main characters I'm cool with talking about. It's the side ones I truly don't care to talk about lol.

So Bakugo---whenever I FIRST started BNHA (before Shigaraki's intro) I was super invested in seeing a friendship develop between him and Midoriya because I'm a sucker for enemies to friends. Idk why I just am. Not too long after starting it though it quickly became obvious that they'd become friends so I wasn't as invested. It was too obvious, and then at that point I had completely shifted my focus to the League. So I just kinda took whatever happened with Bakugo and was cool with it. But as far as forming an opinion on his character and everything that's happened so far, and addressing some of the stuff you said about Endeavor, yeah I have some thoughts.

I actually ranted a bit about what I think of Bakugo's arc here, and I'll just go ahead and throw in what I said since I was about to repeat myself. Also forgive my harsh words toward Bakguo he's on my list of favorites despite how many times I call him a piece of shit lmao:

To be honest Bakugo's arc is one of the best, in my opinion. It kinda hit that break through point in the war arc where he made a sacrifice for Midoriya, and now we need to see how it carries out from here.

But the thing about Bakugo is that he's supposed to be a POS. Like seriously he sucks. At first. Nobody in real life would ever put up with a person like that lol. But this is a manga where behaviors are majorly exaggerated for comedy (his explosive anger) and for dramatic effect (his anger toward Midoriya for literally no reason other than personal insecurities), and the people in BNHA-verse are willing to put up with said behavior. Anyway--the reason I think his arc was handled really well is because:

He's a POS person who was actually punished in-story over and over and over again. Rightfully so. He's an asshole who bullies Midoriya for being quirkless. And then he gets captured by a villain, which leads to a lot of city damage and him feeling humiliated because he had to be saved by--you name it--Midoriya. Then once again his pride causes him to lose the first match at UA. Then he wins the sports festival in a way he never ever wanted.* Then because of his asinine behavior at the sports festival the villains genuinely think he's better off with them because it seems like he's being held back by society (he was in chains after all--big yike) and he gets kidnapped. Him getting kidnapped leads to All Might retiring while trying to save him. Then he fails the licensing exam and falls behind his other classmates. He finally starts to show some progress and stops getting punished by the story right around the second Deku vs. Kacchaan fight. That's when he starts actually improving. Somewhat.

*So about the Bakugo being compared to Endeavor--I've seen two attitudes toward it. Some people think it's a horrible comparison and gross and just whatever. And other people, like myself, see that comparison as quite fair, and deliberate on the author's part.

It doesn't take much reading comprehension to see that Bakugo is desperately in need of a change, because he's at risk of becoming--well--bad.

But the thing is, he was never EVER at risk of becoming a villain. That was never going to be an issue. He was at risk of becoming a much worse person and embodying more and more of Endeavor's negative qualities. Bakugo wants to be number 1. He wants to be number 1 for the wrong reasons. This is not up for debate. Citing what I said above--he was willing to go to extraordinary lengths to win matches at school not for the sake of being a better hero, but for the sake of making him feel better about himself. It's an insecurity thing, and he needed to work on it. And he has. But before he progressed at all--he had to face narrative punishment over and over again.

Bakugo and Endeavor are similar on purpose and they're compared in-story for a reason. People can separate Endeavor from the rest of the narrative all they want but he's a character just like everyone else, and there are intentional parallels and foils in place for him. Similarities between the two:

They both want to be number 1--for the wrong reasons.

They want to go about it the wrong way. Endeavor using his children to live vicariously through, Bakugo trying to get rid of Midoriya by bullying him into not applying to UA because he feels threatened by him. Bakugo continuing to go after Midoriya for his own personal reasons, when it doesn't benefit his development as a hero.

They physically and emotionally hurt others for their ambitions. And look, I'm not putting bullying on the level of abuse by any means. But they both hurt others for their own selfish reasons. They do, and that's a similarity between the two.

They want to feel better about themselves and so they don't want their egos hurt. As it was pointed out to me today by the genius @redphlox, while we were floating in a river in Somewhere, Texas--they were both granted top positions in a way that hurt their egos. Bakugo at the sports festival, Endeavor with the hero billboard charts.

Where there are similarities, there are also differences. Bakugo learned from his punishments. He gradually changed and made progress and improved as a person. Kind of. He's still an asshole but as stated above he had a huge turning point in the war arc when he went all sacrificial on us*. I'm hoping that we'll see him start viewing the villains differently now that he's back in the picture and it's bound to be a topic of discussion with Midoriya. I don't know what Bakugo's end game is but I think we're gonna see him grow more empathic as time goes on.

*Another prediction planted in my head by @/redphlox is that Bakugo getting skewered to save Midoriya might mirror the same way Endeavor sacrifices himself to save his son. Again, I don't think he'll die but I think we'll get a "GASP WILL HE DIE??" moment.

Sooooo yeah I'm pretty cool with Bakugo's character arc so far. It all depends on how it plays out from here. I think we'll see a lot of him and Midoriya working together. I think he'll help save Shigaraki's body, while Midoriya saves his heart and soul. I think it'll be a team effort between the two to get the job done. And I think he'll be a great member of the main group in the final battle. I'm excited to see how he's used in the story from here on out.

[miraculousladybugandconsent]

Am I in a Healthy Relationship?

It Feels Like Love — But Is It?

It's totally normal to look at the world through rose-colored glasses in the early stages of a relationship. But for some people, those rose-colored glasses turn into blinders that keep them from seeing that a relationship isn't as healthy as it should be.

What Makes a Healthy Relationship?

Hopefully, you and your significant other are treating each other well. Not sure if that's the case? Take a step back from the dizzying sensation of being swept off your feet and think about whether your relationship has these qualities:

Mutual respect. 

Does he or she get how great you are and why? Make sure your BF or GF is into you for who you are.

Does your partner listen when you say you're not comfortable doing something and then back off right away, without trying to get you to change your mind?

Respect in a relationship means that each person values the other and understands — and would never challenge — the other person's boundaries.

Trust.

You're talking with a guy from French class and your boyfriend walks by. Does he completely lose his cool, or keep walking because he knows you'd never cheat on him?

It's okay to get a little jealous sometimes — jealousy is a natural emotion. But how a person reacts when feeling jealous is what matters.

There's no way you can have a healthy relationship if you don't trust each other.

Honesty.

This one goes hand-in-hand with trust, because it's tough to trust someone when one of you isn't being honest.

Have you ever caught your girlfriend in a major lie?

Like she told you that she had to work on Friday night but it turned out she was at the movies with her friends?

The next time she says she has to work, you'll have a lot more trouble believing her, and the trust will be on shaky ground.

Support.

It's not just in bad times that your partner should support you.

Some people are great when your whole world is falling apart, but not that interested in hearing about the good things in your life.

In a healthy relationship, your significant other is there with a shoulder to cry on when you find out your parents are getting divorced and to celebrate with you when you get the lead in a play.

Fairness/equality.

You need to have give-and-take in your relationship.

Do you take turns choosing which new movie to see?

As a couple, do you hang out with your partner's friends as often as they hang out with yours?

You'll know if it isn't a pretty fair balance.

Things get bad really fast when a relationship turns into a power struggle, with one person fighting to get their way all the time.

Separate identities.

In a healthy relationship, everyone needs to make compromises, but that doesn't mean you should feel like you're losing out on being yourself.

When you started going out, you both had your own lives (families, friends, interests, hobbies, etc.) and that shouldn't change.

Neither of you should have to pretend to like something you don't, or give up seeing your friends, or drop out of activities you love.

And you also should feel free to keep developing new talents or interests, making new friends, and moving forward.

Good communication.

Can you talk to each other and share feelings that are important to you?

Don't keep feelings bottled up because you're afraid it's not what your partner wants to hear.

And if you need some time to think something through before you're ready to talk about it, the right person will give you some space to do that.

What's an Unhealthy Relationship?

A relationship is unhealthy when it involves mean, disrespectful, controlling, or abusive behavior.

Some people live in homes with parents who fight a lot or abuse each other — emotionally, verbally, or physically. For some people who have grown up around this kind of behavior it can almost seem normal or okay, but it's not!

Many of us learn from watching and imitating the people close to us. So someone who has lived around violent or disrespectful behavior may not have learned how to treat others with kindness and respect, or how to expect the same treatment. This does not make it okay to disrespect you!

Qualities like kindness and respect are absolute requirements for a healthy relationship.

Someone who doesn't yet have this part down may need to work on it with a trained therapist before he or she is ready for a relationship.

Meanwhile, even though you might feel bad or feel for someone who's been mistreated, you need to take care of yourself — it's not healthy to stay in a relationship that involves abusive behavior of any kind.

Even if your partner was or is being abused, it is never okay for them to abuse you, and you aren’t a bad person for keeping yourself safe.

Warning Signs

When a boyfriend or girlfriend uses verbal insults, mean language, nasty putdowns, gets physical by hitting or slapping, or forces someone into sexual activity, it's a sign of verbal, emotional, or physical abuse.

Ask yourself, does my partner:

get angry when I don't drop everything for them?

criticize the way I look or dress, and say I'll never be able to find anyone else who would date me?

keep me from seeing friends or from talking to other guys or girls?

want me to quit an activity, even though I love it?

ever raise a hand when angry, like they were about to hit me?

try to force me to go further sexually than I want to?

These aren't the only questions you can ask yourself. If you can think of any way in which your partner is trying to control you, make you feel bad about yourself, isolate you from the rest of your world, or — this is a big one — harm you physically or sexually, then it's time to get out, fast.

Let a trusted friend or family member know what's going on, and make sure you're safe.

It can be tempting to make excuses or misinterpret violence, possessiveness, or anger as an expression of love.But even if you know that the person hurting you loves you, it is not healthy.

No one deserves to be hit, shoved, or forced into anything they don't want to do.

Why Are Some Relationships So Difficult?

Ever heard about how it's hard for someone to love you when you don't love yourself? It's a big relationship roadblock when one or both people struggle with self-esteem problems.

Your partner isn't there to make you feel good about yourself if you can't do that on your own.

Focus on being happy with yourself, and don't take on the responsibility of worrying about someone else's happiness.

What if you feel that your girlfriend or boyfriend needs too much from you? If the relationship feels like a burden or a drag instead of a joy, it might be time to think about whether it's a healthy match for you.

Even if your partner is mentally ill, or struggling with something in their personal life, it doesn’t mean you have to stay with them. A relationship is supposed to benefit both sides and make you both happy. If all it’s doing is making you miserable, it’s okay to end it.

You are never obligated to stay in a relationship, no matter your reasons for ending it. 

If your partner ever threatens you with hurting themselves if you leave them, tell a trusted adult immediately, and end the relationship. Even if someone is mentally ill, it is never okay to threaten self-harm or suicide to keep someone in a relationship, and you are not responsible for their actions, even if they try to blame you. Tell a trusted adult that your partner was threatening to hurt themselves, and end the relationship.

Manipulating someone with the threat of self-harm or suicide is abusive, and it is never okay.

If you are struggling with suicidal ideation or thought of self-harm, talk to a trusted adult or call a helpline. You can talk to your partner about the way you feel, but it is not okay for you to use your mental illness as a threat or a manipulation tactic.

Feeling suicidal doesn’t always mean you want to die, wishing you didn’t exist or were never born is another common symptom. Click here to find out how you can get help if you’re feeling suicidal or want to hurt yourself.

Another reason relationships might seem so difficult is because intense relationships can be hard for teens.

Some are so focused on their own developing feelings and responsibilities that they don't have the emotional energy it takes to respond to someone else's feelings and needs in a close relationship.

Don't worry if you're just not ready yet. You can take all the time you need, even if you decide you never want to date at all.

Ever notice that some teen relationships don't last very long? It's no wonder — you're both still growing and changing every day. You might seem perfect for each other at first, but that can change. If you try to hold on to the relationship anyway, there's a good chance it will turn sour. Better to part as friends than to stay in something that you've outgrown or that no longer feels right for one or both of you.

And before you go looking for amour from that hottie from French class, respect your current beau by breaking things off before you make your move. Cheating isn’t okay, no matter your reasons.

Relationships can be full of fun, romance, excitement, intense feelings, and occasional heartache, too.

Whether you're single or in a relationship, remember that it's good to be choosy about who you get close to. If you're still waiting, take your time and get to know plenty of people, and know that no choice needs to be permanent.

Think about the qualities you value in a friendship, and see how they match up with the ingredients of a healthy relationship.

Work on developing those good qualities in yourself — they make you a lot more attractive to others.

And if you're already part of a pair, make sure the relationship you're in brings out the best in both of you.

source

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 8

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1739

Notes: This chapter is slightly graphic on the physical abuse. It's only like two lines, but I wanted to make it known.

Chapter 8 - Sorry for Now

After a while you may forget

But just in case the memories cross your mind

You couldn't know this when I left

Under the fire of your angry eyes

I never wanted to say goodbye

Four months, thirteen days, and ten hours, not that he was counting, since he left. Since the dark haired boy had walked away, leaving Rowan standing on the sidewalk. Since his mind spiraled out of control, and it felt like part of him died.

Rowan had been seeing a therapist for the last three months. It had helped, somewhat. At least he could function as a relatively normal human being again, when he was around people anyway. Most of the time. He almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his mom, his friend group, and his therapist had helped him get through it.

But all in all, Rowan felt empty. Somehow his heart was broken. He hadn't realized someone could get so attached to someone so fast even though they never really talked or hung out. Maybe it was because they shared such vulnerabilities with each other that day in the park or there really was such a thing as a soulmate and his just left him. Either way, he was broken inside. Yet, he still went to parties with his friends, hung out, but he wasn't always present. Everyone noticed the vacant stares, but they usually left it alone. They all knew the general gist of what happened that day, but they could never understand the emotional gravity well that that day had caused. No one knew that Rowan had fallen for the other boy.

Except the ever observant Elide. She noticed everything. The way Rowan spoke about Lorcan, the way his eyes lit up when he saw the other boy walking down the hall, and the small looks they both shared on cast signing day.

But nobody had seen Lorcan after he had walked away. He never came back to school. No one knew what to think. Most assumed they moved again and they left it at that. Rowan assumed the worst after seeing Lorcan's bruises and him basically saying this was a usual occurrence.

Rowan was brought back to the present when a beach ball hit him in the head. He was sitting on the edge of Aelin's pool, sulking, feet dangling in the water. Aelin was throwing one of her parties, it was nearly the end of summer and soon most of them would head off to college. The noises from his friends finally filtering back into his head, it was suddenly too loud, too bright, and too hot. He ran a hand down his face.

Fenrys had been the beach ball throwing culprit, Rowan just glared at him.

"Come on, Ro. Try and have some fun?" Fen had swam over to Rowan and crossed his arms over the edge of the pool. The roguish blond just wanted him to be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He said that a lot now. Fenrys just raised an eyebrow at the boy… man.

He was eighteen now and he wasn't that scrawny, nerdy looking boy anymore. Rowan supposed that was one good thing that came out of Lorcan leaving, he got addicted to working out. There was a punching bag set up in the garage with some weights. He was fit now, muscles defined, but not bulky.

Elide walked up and mussed up his hair. "Come help me get some drinks." She didn't leave any room for argument.

In the kitchen, Elide just leaned forward on the island and looked at Rowan.

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Yeah, we will. But-"

"But what?" He really didn't mean to say that with such an attitude, but he was hot and emotionally exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to go home.

Elide was on her phone, waiting for him to chill. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to talk about?" Rowan was trying, he really was. She just slid her phone over the counter towards him. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen.

Consultants for Erawan Enterprises arrested on counts of fraud, child abuse, human trafficking, and other illicit activities

"What's this?" He had no idea what this was about. Why would he care about Erawan Enterprises?

He picked up the phone and kept reading since Elide clearly wasn’t going to answer. It was short and there was a photo of a devastatingly beautiful woman with dark as night hair, that reminded him of Lorcan, and alabaster skin in handcuffs being pushed into a cop car and a very angry man shoved against the hood of the same car.

Maeve Valgerian and James Perrington were arrested Wednesday night. After some anonymous tips to the Morath Police.

"Who are these people?" Rowan didn't understand.

"Pretty sure she's Lorcan's aunt."

Oh.

Rowan had searched for Lorcan online after he disappeared, but there was literally nothing. Absolutely zero results. It was like he was a ghost.

They were consultants for Erawan Enterprises and moved all over the world for the very powerful man. Erawan Enterprises is under investigation for fraud, money laundering, and human trafficking.

After Valgerian and Perrington were arrested, MPD searched their residence and found incriminating evidence against them.

There was also a teenager held captive in the basement. They were taken to the nearest hospital with severely critical injuries. The name and gender of this individual will not be released for their safety.

The article was published nearly two months ago.

Human trafficking…

Held captive...

Severely critical injuries...

"Please, don't break my phone." He was squeezing the device and didn't realize it. Quickly handing it back to her, his hand went straight to his hair.

“Are you sure this is his aunt?”

“Well, not 100%, but they have physical similarities and their hair…” she trailed off. “And Lorcan had mentioned his aunt’s boyfriend living with them one day in class.”

"Fuck!" He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out.

"Ro." Elide's voice was quiet.

"FUCK!"

After a couple deep breaths, he ran his hands down his face, and then turned to face his friend. "Is he dead?" His voice cracked.

"I don't know. All of the other articles I could find are just about them and Erawan Enterprises. No mentions of Lorcan. Anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Elide pulled him into a hug and he broke.

---

Lorcan had been through shit show after shit show since he left the Whitethorn house. As soon as he returned to the apartment, it was packed up into a moving van and they were gone.

They were in Fenharrow for a couple months. Maeve didn't enroll him in school. He was locked in the basement of the small house they rented, it felt like he had gone crazy. He hadn't seen the sun until they moved again. His skin turned a sickly gray. By the time they moved again, he could feel every one of his ribs, and his hips stuck out, his fingers overlapping when wrapped around his wrist.

Next move was to Morath. Lorcan didn't know if he would survive. He didn’t have a good feeling about this place. The basement became his home yet again. It was filthy. There were thick iron hooks in opposite walls and chains hanging from them. This was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes as Perrington latched the shackles around his wrists.

---

One day, Lorcan heard sirens intermittently. He kept passing out. He wasn't even sure he was hearing sirens or if it was just a ringing in his ears. They were always ringing nowadays. A punch to his face made his vision flicker. Blood and saliva leaked from his mouth as his head rolled down to his chest.

The ringing in his ears got louder. There definitely weren't sirens. No one was going to save him. He was going to die here. He knew it. It was what he deserved. The bastard born half-breed that no one cared about, left to die in his own filth in a disgusting basement. The world slowly faded to black.

---

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

He was in Hel. He had to be.

Beep.

The incessant beeping was there to drive him insane. And the smell of bleach was there to make him sick.

Beep.

---

Lorcan startled awake. How could he be awake? He was supposed to be dead. Right?

The nightmare he was having felt so real. Probably because he had lived it before. He assumed that was just what Hel was supposed to be, reliving the worst parts of your life.

But instead, he was in a bed, a hospital bed. Why did they save him? Lorcan wasn't worth saving. Yet, here he was covered in wires, tubes, a needle stuck in his hand, a device on his finger. It was dark outside and the lights were dim in the room.

Deciding he wasn’t actually dead, he took stock of his body, he was certain he had some broken ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken which was surprising. He was definitely sore and stiff. And exhausted. So exhausted.

---

After… Lorcan didn't know how long he was discharged. He had put on some weight, though not a lot. The staff made sure he ate. They were all nice and cared for him. But now, he stood outside the main entrance of the hospital in some scrubs they gave him. Now, he had nothing. Nobody. He may as well have been lost at sea.

Why had they saved him? He still couldn’t figure that out.

Somehow, he managed to find the small house that he had been stuck in for who knows how long. There was police tape over the door. The door was open.

He pushed through the tape. The house was a mess. It seemed the cops had ransacked the place. But he finally found his things, they were strewn about the floor. Thank Hellas, his journal was still there. After changing, he packed up his books and journal, some clothes, and a few other other necessities.

He needed money or something he could sell. Maeve's jewelry would help. He could pawn it.

Lorcan asked the pawnshop owner for directions to the bus station, and then he set out to see if there was still one person who cared about him. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea.

____

Thanks for reading. Things will get better, I promise! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Edit- oops! I forgot to actually put in tags... My bad. Sorry!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[potatotrash0]

i saw seven deadly sins au and went !!!!!!!!!!! this stuff is my weakness. ty long au anon ily <3 /p

anonymous said:

Hi this is that same anon that keeps making long au plots. Here's a seven deadly sins/Demon au where Nagito is the sin of envy, Hajime is the sin of Greed, and Chiaki is the sin of sloth. They are a horrible trio.

-Hajime, as a demon of Greed, really loves finding and hoarding extravagant and pretty things, whether they are his or not.

-Yes Nagito and Chiaki are both apart of his collection. He stole two other demons because "pretty”

-Nanami stayed because not only is she always sleeping and Hajime's cozy little place is nice, but because friend <3

-Nagito stayed because he's lonely, bored, petty, and wanted the pretty boy who called him pretty before sweeping him off his feet's,,attention.

-oh lore time. Hell is a lawless place but there is still a semblance of order between groups of sins. Sins are kind of like their Own species. There's a certain chart of what sin is compatible with what sin, and it's agreed by every sin never to put a demon of envy and a demon of Greed together.

-this is because both envy and Greed as sins are too similar together. Both sins ambitions and motives to get something stem from their desires of want. The difference is envy ways something of someone else, while greed wants anything it can get.

-the problem at first was that Hajime's instinct pulled him to take anything he wanted as his, while Nagito only wanted Hajime (and Chiaki) as his. And he didn't like Hajime's want for others.

-Nagito has nothing against chiaki, even as a demon of envy. This is because demons of sloths are usually considered "neutral" or tolerable territory between all the sins. At first Nagito thought he would have to be competitive to get Hajime's attention but then one time Chiaki and Hajime got into a verbal disagreement and Chiaki went, "friendship over with Hajime, Nagito is my best friend now" And then fell asleep on him.

-Hajime would've gotten annoyed because, greedy, but then he sees Nagito moved to tears at being called a friend and he's like, "IIl let them have that, this time." And then moved closer so they all cuddled.

-of course nagito was in the middle and got stuck between a demon of sloth and Greed as pillow. Tug o war with Nagito's body never became so intense.

-Nagito, is still very petty when he thinks something else has taken away both his partner's interest in him, so he will become very passive aggressive. Usually that was a problem in the past but it has gotten easier knowing that you can buy his forgiveness through physical affection.

-oh did I mention they're all lovers? They keep calling each other "best friend" or "friend" despite sharing romantic intimacy because that's what they started out as and they're just inseparable from each other. They just love each other alot regardless of platonic or romantic feelings. They just want to be a starring role in the other's heart ❤️

-their lives are a bit different than canon, especially since the era they died in is not modern day.

-Chiaki was born normal/middle class until a war or invasion broke out. The city was one of thr firsts to get hit hard by invading forces, and her parents, who were respectable bakers/market people were hit hard. Her town was raided at night constantly and threatened. The bakery was constantly stolen from and vandalized. Many of the sleepless nights stayed with her as she sat with her parents and they held her in their arms. One night her parents got caught in the crossfire in the bakery while it was vandalized, and with no siblings and no neighbors, sleep deprived and tired of it all, chiaki decided she'd at least go with a struggle. She poisoned the invaders supply of food for nights on end until the sleep deprivation got to her and she was dead before they could get to her. Now though she gets to sleep all she wants.

-Hajime was the child of a corrupt father and a diseased mother, who didnt/wouldn't give him the attention he craved. When his mother died she only managed to hide her one belonging (a necklace) and gave it to him before she died. His father sold him everything else. His father wasn't abusive, per say, but he took pride in seeing himself in Hajime, and constantly hyped up his "love" for Hajime when he showed the same ambitions as him, while downplaying anything else he deemed unworthy (his mother's kind hearted temperament). So while Hajime still retained his mother's sense of being fair and caring, the ambition to take everything got pounded into him by his father constantly until both of them got a bit blurry. Sad thing is his father loved money more than him and when the angry people who his father scammed burnt his house down, he couldn't care less about his kid and ran with the valuables, leaving Hajime to die in the fire.

-Nagito grew up with a mother who was a seamstress, who was unhappily married and forced to have a child she didnt want and her husband didn't help her raise him, instead he cheated on her behind her back. While she never hurt him, she was emotionally detached from the trauma and pain, and couldn't give him the love he needed as a kid. She instead, tried (and actually managed to achive) some sort of loving emotional bond with her kid through tailoring. Idk how he dies but I was imagining something happens and he and his mother die, and while his mother dies in peace, he dies in envy of another family his father has built and how happy he is.

-(While Hajime's sin might have festered as he grew because of his father, Nagito might have been born sharing the sin of envy with his mother, who envied people being able to live their life. )

-(also yes, I did get these backstories referencing vocaloid songs)

-idk that shit got depressing fast I'm sorry. I can say now though they are happy Imao.

-oh Oh, they also have fun picking a single human and then tormenting them. I don't mean tormenting them as in making their life miserable, but tormenting them by making it very inconvenient and wild. Currently the human they're bullying is Kazuichi.

lmaooo kazuichi............babe i am so sorry you’re getting triple teamed by three demons dksnxksnx he’s probably perpetually in the *clutches beanie in fear* pose—

also!!!!! sin of envy nagito!!!!!! so pog??? i actually have hajime down as the sin of envy for my own 7DS au but.............*looks intensely*

also also i can just see chiaki monopolizing all of hajime’s comfy furniture lmao. he’s a little annoyed bc “that’s mine >:T” but also he’s not very inclined to stop her bc she usually just makes grabby hands to signal for hugs, so he gets to use the couch anyway. it’s all good <3

also i do indeed see the vocaloid references and my mind is running wild bc enbizaka my beloved <3 i still wanna redo the written version of it at some point........

[soranis-sunshadow]

Spacebats need anger management

I’ve been thinking a bit about Hordak’s off-putting angry outbursts. I was trying to figure out how one would get from being allowed to express no emotion to violent emotional outbursts. Is this an innate behaviour of spacebats or is it a learned behaviour?

Then it dawned on me:

What other person appears calm and collected only to suddenly snap in an unanticipated burst of viciousness? Horde Prime, that’s who. For the most part Prime appears calm and collected. He talks at people (not with them) in that smooth, slithering, and silky tone then, , out of nowhere, BAM! Violence. You don’t really know when it’s coming or if it’s coming. You don’t really expect it at first, if you are unfamiliar with Prime. The sudden shift is jarring and terrifying. Makes me wonder whether he wants to project calm and control but utterly loses his temper or these are calculated outbursts designed to make one feel in danger regardless of how he actually behaves. Are they calculated doses of abuse specifically designed to keep one off balance, in an exhausting state of constant fear?

As an example, in the season 4 finale when Prime teleports Catra, Glimmer and Hordak to his throne room, after he inquires as to why he can’t sense Hordak’s thoughts in a calm fashion, you can see Hordak already quivering in fear. He already knew what was coming. He was on his knees, begging for mercy but his face, posture, gestures and tone of voice tells us that he already knows he will not receive any. That scene unsettles me still. He knew that Prime’s initial calm was no indication of safety.

We, humans, learn how to behave by studying our parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles and later, our friends and entourage. We have multiple examples, in our formative years of behaviour and we develop a preference on how to act ourselves based on how likable our examples are and how successful they are at determining the right reactions in others. It’s a slow process that, for the most part, happens without our conscious awareness of it (at least in our first years of life).

For his clones, Horde Prime might be the only example of a person that they have available. (Little brothers are not people, only parts of the whole). His reactions and behaviour are the only things they have to base any interactions off of. There is no other alternative, no better or calmer or more balanced person as a counter example. (Besides… Prime is all, there is no better than Prime, he is the Eternal Light… yada yada) Regardless of the fact that they don’t see themselves as people and they should not actively develop a personality, it happens anyway because under all their erasure and all of the indoctrination, they are still people. The clones begin, at least in their heads, emulating their big brother. You can see some of that in how individual clones react to Catra and Glimmer on Prime’s ship.

This brings us back to Hordak and his anger management issues. Does his use of verbal violence resemble Prime in scope and goal? Are his outbursts calculatedly cruel and unpredictable?

Hmm...not really. They come off more as bratty, more like he’s throwing a tantrum. His outbursts are usually preceded by a simmering frustration that he probably has no healthy way of dealing with. For the most part, he has no means of dealing with any emotion. He was never supposed to have any emotions to begin with so he is ill equipped to understand and cope with them. Him being emotionally stunted is not a bug, it’s a feature. The only open expression of emotion he is used to is Prime’s anger, and so, all emotions are expressed in that fashion. Be it shame, anxiety, frustration, loneliness and to some degree, even confusion. When he has a positive emotion, he is unsure how to express it with the means he has available, which leads to dorky declarations of indirect friendship.

A lot of his behaviour is, in hindsight, a bad imitation of Prime: His attempts at cowering his underlings, his self-imposed isolation, his dismissal of Catra when she tries to report to him while he is working with Entrapta and more. For all his bluster, his attempts at being imposing and superior come off as clumsy once you take a peek under the veneer, as Catra herself discovers. It becomes hard to tell what he’s actually like by himself when he’s not trying to fill his brother’s big shoes.  

The only person he starts acting naturally around is Entrapta and, unfortunately, he doesn’t manifest a different type of reaction with her either. He has a short temper and snaps at her too. The difference emerges when Entrapta is not cowed by the outbursts (unlike everyone else in the Horde). She calls them tizzies and for the most part, either ignores them or tries to calm him down with logic. And… it works. (except for that one, unfortunate time).

The only other example of a spacebat we have is Wrongie and he seems more prone to outbursts of crying rather than shouting. However, he has about 2 minutes of screen-time tops and the show treats his ordeal of being cut off from all he knows and his deconversion more like a gag rather than the traumatic experience it really is. The only outburst he has is pre-brain-scramble and arguably… it’s justified. Entrapta and Bow were intruders, trying to dispose of them was a natural conclusion.

To close all of this rambling, it is impossible to tell with all the evidence we have from the show whether it’s an innate behaviour. Prime is violent because he’s an abusive prick and because his violence is always rewarded with a positive outcome. Whether he was less violent at some point and became more due to positive reinforcement of such conduct throughout the centuries or millennia of his existence is irrelevant at this point.  His little brothers internalise that behaviour as the norm and act accordingly. It becomes natural to them sadly. It is a learned behaviour from the only example they have ever had. 

Unlearning it will be difficult.

EDIT: Their flat emote that defaults to anger also makes it very hard for some fans of the show to actually empathize with them. Most people don’t look under the anger to see what exactly they are trying to express. They take these outbursts at face value and see a vicious, rabid and cruel animal where some of us know that what we are seeing is a creature that has known only violence and as such, will bite at any hand that comes near, for hands have only been used to hurt it.

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen. ________________________________________________________

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

It takes two to Tango.

It’s always like this after using it, but of course a quirk like this would come with some dangerous side effects.

You watch your reflection in the mirror, all dark eyebags and bloodshot eyes. At least the bleeding has finally stopped, but the sink is a bloody mess, and the trash can is full of paper soaking in blood.

It feels awful, really. Physically and emotionally.

You could still feel Dabi’s bones bending under your quirk. His muscles and tendons stiffen like hard rock as the blood stooped its flowing inside of him.

As always, you let the anger get the best of you. It’s your worst defect, and now it will cost you dearly because there is no way the league lets you live after what you’ve done to Dabi. Shigaraki will decay you and that will be all, and if you weren’t as exhausted after all the crying and the bleeding, you would be fucking losing it.

A soft knock in the door forces you to clear your face from the tears before opening, shoving down the nausea at the idea of facing your imminent death.

“can we talk?” Toga asks, her soft face adorned with a little frown.

You let her in and close the door again, sitting over the toilet.

“I’m very sorry for what I did, Himiko-chan.” You sob quietly.

“I know. Hey…hey, don’t cry. I’m not mad.”

“I hurt you, I didn’t think clearly, I was so mad...”

“hey, it’s fine.” She states, her little hand touching your shoulder, trying to calm you. “I mean, when I first came to the league, Tomura, Dabi and I almost killed each other, so…I understand.”

“it’s not the same, Toga. My quirk is…I almost killed Dabi and I didn’t even touched him. I just…I, I’m supposed to help people, try to keep it down, but when I get angry…I’m a monster and now Shigaraki is going to kill me…”

“No, don’t say that. That’s not true.” Her voice is soft when she clutches in front of you. “look at me, hey. Look at me. We are friends. You just got angry. And you didn’t hurt me, and Tomura and Compress are fine. It didn’t hurt. It was weird but didn’t hurt. And Tomura-kun is not going to kill you.”

“really?”

“If Tomura-kun wanted you dead, you would’ve been an hour ago.” She answers, rolling her eyes. “can you tell me about what just happen? What is with your quirk?”

“it’s pretty simple, actually. It is call Torment. Is the ability to manipulate living tissue, tensing nerves, contracting muscle and bending bone. It’s a useless variation of a healing quirk, but I cannot grow new tissue, only manipulate it. I can keep wounds closed, I can relax your nerves, I can break your bones and stop your blood from flowing. I can stop your heart just by moving a finger and torture you by contracting all your muscles and nerves, but it’s dangerous for me. It’s too much effort to control a whole body, less alone four of them. I bleed, and I ache.”

 “wow. That’s why you look so terrible.”

“yeah” you laugh cleaning your tears. “I guess I do.”

“how do you feel now?”

“a little better. Still like shit, but I’ll be fine.”

“Compress and I will be going to the store. Do you want something?”

“To the store? With what money?”

“A girl has her ways.” She teases softly “want some sweets?”

“Yes. I need to eat something. It’s…Dabi there?”

“no, he went out. Tomura-kun told him to go chill outside.”

“Okay. I’m going to get out now...”

“don’t be scared. You’ll be fine. Dabi asked for it anyway and…he sometimes can get very nasty with Tomura. He deserved it.”

“Himiko…thank you.”

You gather your courage and step out of the bath, finding your apartment as messy as you left it an hour ago, but this time is empty.

Thank god.

You give yourself to the task of collecting your destroyed laptop and removing the broken table from the view, looking for a way to repair the detached leg, trying to clean and erase any trace of the fight, enjoying your solitude for the first time in more than a week.

“this is going to cost me.” you say to no one, preparing yourself to the idea of buying a new computer as you move to your room. “I don’t have any extra money to-”

“I always knew you were hiding something.”

“FUCK!” You scream letting the pieces of your laptop fall again, covering your face with your hands when you notice Shigaraki’s arm crossed figure leaning against the wall besides your door. “dammit, Shigaraki. You cannot just…appear behind other people’s doors.”

“that’s debatable.” He remarks, an amused grin plastered in his face.

He watches you and something inside of you twist between excited and scared as his eyes scan you head to toe, the gears of his brain turning inside his head.

“What.”

“C’mon. I’m curious about it.”

“I bet you are.” You spit annoyed.

“Careful now. Look where that bickering mouth of yours got you an hour ago.” He warns you entertained.

“Don’t you dare to patronize me.” You warn already tired, a hand rubbing against your temple.

“I’m just asking about that funny little quirk you have. That and the little display of rage, who would have thought!”

You stare at him, weighting your options to no avail.”

“I can manipulate living tissue. Muscle, bone, nerves, blood. That’s all.

“That’s a pretty boring answer to such a memorable show.”

“This is stupid. What did you expect me to do, huh?” you snap.

“What makes you think I expect you to do anything?” He asks cunningly.

“You know what I mean.”

“no, I don’t.” he laughs.

“It’s just…I hate bullys. And he’s been trying his best to get on my nerves since day one and I could…I mean, i…I just…”

“you what.”

“I cannot stay there and let him berate people like it’s not important!” You can feel the verbal vomit gathering inside your throat, if you keep like this, you are going to say something you will regret.

“but it’s not.” He states rolling his eyes. “I didn’t care about what he said. You didn’t have to say anything.”

“but I care!”

"About what he does? or is about wh-"

"it's about what he said of you!"

"It doesn't matter wh-"

"Yes, it does!" 

“why d-”

“because I like you!”

The moment those words are out, you smack your palm against your mouth, fully convinced you made a horrible mistake, so honoring your sense of self-preservation and improvisation, you oblige yourself to make some verbal stunt just to get out of this one, because you have a horrible scary feeling about the hungry look he’s giving you.

“I mean, I thought we could get along…all of us. Despite everything, I think highly of you, and I know you are a villain- villains who wants to destroy everything, but I thought we could be…”

“Friends? are you hearing yourself?” He spits; his mouth twitched in a hateful grimace.

Fear shoots through you in less than a second. Suddenly he looks more taller and menacing, as his steps makes you retrieve, until your back hits the wall on the corner of your room.

Yeah, you may not be afraid of Dabi, but Shigaraki Tomura is a completely different story.

“What are you doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“Get away from me.” you bark scared, as your eyes ignite in clear warning. The dark feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach send shivers through your spine, lifting the hairs of your neck in terror.

“Make me.” Shigaraki growls lowly the moment one of his hands trap your chin roughly, his pinky safely curled against his palm, but even like that you can almost feel how close you are from certain death.

He is pissed out of the blue, your brain failing at finding the exact moment shit went down before he decides to finally kill you, yet you don’t get it, all you did was…

Oh…

He winces scanning your face searching for something, and the moment his eyes stops over your lips, you recognize the feeling.

He snarls like a wolf, looming over you, looking like he’s ready to kill you.

Or eat you.

“Are you done playing dumb?” he asks darkly, and you can feel the warm of his breath against your own lips and something far more complex and exciting than plain fear roaring inside your chest, begging you to push forward, begging you to kiss him.

“I said…are you done playing-“

“WE ARE BACK!” You both snap your heads to the door the moment Toga enters, screaming cheerfully while leaving a bag with candy over the counter, and before you know, Shigaraki is at the other side of the room, staring at you like you transfixed, digging his nails deeply in his neck, before storming out of the apartment, leaving you there, rooted in your room, finally remembering how to breathe.

“What’s wrong with him?” Compress asks as he handles you a pack of gummy bears.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand against your face, your lips still tingling with longing.

“I have no idea.” You lie.

Chapter 11

[simtrospective]

SCRAPPED STORY CHALLENGE by @bugsims

01. Post a few screenshots from a scrapped scene / edit / story! 02. Share why you scrapped this specific thing. 03. Tag five friends, and watch the fun play out!

Thank you to @gilded-ghosts for the tag.

Because I wrote so much that you might prefer to skip, let me do 03. outside the cut. I tag...

@ladykendalsims - @jet-plane-sims - @boogey-studios - @pinkmonsimblr - @dynastiasimss

The above pictures (plus the related tray files) are all I have left of an idea that was half-formed to begin with and which never got off the ground at all.

01.

Depending on if you’re a follower of mine + how long you’ve been following me, you may have seen a few of these shots before but I’ll explain them anyway:

Set 1: The characters Charlie, Hick, and Craig, in their original states on the left and their enhanced, final states on the right;

Set 2: A few WIP pictures of the performance space/club/thing I built;

Set 3: A bunch of test shots I took to see how the characters looked interacting, what they did naturally, and how they looked when I ~directed them. I used these pics to try and find my editing style for the story. I didn’t find the style I wanted. Clearly.

02.

I scrapped this idea because it never came together; I didn’t connect with the characters; I didn’t care about the storyline; I’m not done with my new save so I couldn’t ~comfortably start telling this story when the rest of the world was/is disordered; and on and on. The point is, I wasn’t feeling any of this. Oh! And I hate the whole vibe and time period and aesthetic irl; what on earth was I thinking writing about it?!

So. What was this going to be?

[[Under the cut because this is... so, so long. So long.]]

Charlie, Hick, and Craig were

going

to live in Del Sol Valley in my new save, in the Pinnacles neighborhood, which I was

going

to turn into a Laurel Canyon-style neighborhood. An entire community of would-be songwriters/musicians were

going

to live in the two smaller lots and commune with one another and be the New Guard colliding with the Old Guard; the huge mansion lot was

going

to house an aging former film-current soap actor confronting his mortality and also hating the living shit out of these hippies whose existence he took as a personal affront--I digress. Back to the “story.”

Charlie, Hick, and Craig met after each arrived in DSV separately and they vibed and they moved in together, all in a matter of, like, a week’s time. Charlie and Hick vibed especially. So much in common! Such poor little rich [kids]! Both came from pampered environments in which their family money and respective fathers’ connections allowed them to skate through life and to play at being musicians because--despite crying oppression at the hands of upper class WASP-dom--they'll always have safety nets to ensure they’ll always be okay. Charlotte Grant graduated from her all-girls prep school and put on a floppy hat and became Charlie Grant; Richard Hickey (lololol) ripped up his acceptance letter to Britechester and grew his hair out and hitchhiked and told people to call him “Hick.” They’ve lived parallel lives and “recognize” one another as soon as they meet. They have an electric connection, but neither will verbalize that. Above all, they... really want to sleep together.

Craig grew up working class and has no safety net; he just wants a little adventure before he gets a real job/grows up/gets married (his gf back home is off to college; they’re long-distance; it’s... not going to work). He’s a good guitar player and he’s a good songwriter and that’s it but maybe it’ll be more? What do they say about the lottery? Can’t win if you don’t play? Charlie and Hick want to be famous ~rule the world. Hick plays guitar well and tries to write songs but they’re shitty. Charlie is passively learning the keyboard and writes songs that are not... bad...? Some are... good?

Charlie and Hick--can you tell they eclipse Craig, yet?--have weird sexual chemistry and tension: they tease, they flirt, they taunt, they enjoy one another’s attention but they never so much as hug. They both have cruel streaks as only disconnected, spoiled, emotionally stunted bluebloods can: the torture of their relationship/non-relationship gets them off more than anything else could and that thrill drives much of their behaviors: bringing wanton strangers home for one night stands, each hoping the other is watching/overhearing, fighting about little things, acting like inappropriately close siblings, acting like strangers. Craig suffers their whims; Charlie and Hick aren’t just united in their toxicity and their dreams of fame, but in how they make Craig into a third wheel or a--well, punching bag is too strong a term. Charlie and Hick think they’re teasing their bff but you know how it is to be teased allllll the tiiiiiiime and how it can make your head spin when people who can’t get along with one another join forces--without even having to discuss it--to turn on you. Their relationship gets patched up, you’re hurting, they insist it’s not a big deal and even that you even liked it. We’re all friends. We’re all best friends omg.

But sometimes they have fun together. They have a lot of fun together. Sometimes it all is everything each dreamed it would be. DSV is a wonderland and their careers are happening and life is happening and they’re best friends. They’re soulmates for life.

The three work on music, perform at clubs. Craig is starting to come into his own as a man. I hate the term coming-of-age but in the background of the Charlie & Hick Show, Craig is maturing. He has to, because C&H are fuck-ups. They jeopardize scheduled performances. They don’t know how to talk to club owners. They’re not interested in paying their dues. They are unable (or unwilling) to promote themselves without being obnoxious attention whores. They don’t practice or help write songs. They don’t take care of the house. Hick is late with his rent. Charlie thinks she can flirt her way out of everything. Craig is also the only one of them who works; he has a day job at a print shop, gives guitar lessons on the side, and makes sure the three get gigs and don’t get evicted. The only thing C&H put consistent effort toward is making the social scene or finding a party or scoring drugs or getting laid. As the group’s local star(s) rise, their fates start to change course which increases the interpersonal tension. Hick’s fun-loving nature is starting to turn into a legit substance abuse problem and he’s picking fights with the wrong people and socially devolving, his arrogance and issues and general laziness rendering him unable to relate to others; Charlie is getting a lot of attention from older men In the Business, who have the money and connections to make her a solo star, which she is shrewdly considering; and Craig’s resentment toward his “friends” and disillusionment with the superficiality of DSV is making him rethink his motivation for coming west in the first place.

Oh, and Charlie and Hick--again, as their paths change and as their weird tension remains unresolved--continue to take their bullshit out on Craig and now it’s not funny anymore, it’s not cute, it’s not exciting, and neither is it when Hick ruins a show by being too stoned to perform and neither is it when Charlie brings unsavory characters home who trash the three’s equipment and neither is it when C&H steal Craig’s songs and perform without him at a gig they didn’t tell him about.

What I intended was that the story would at first seem to be The Charlie and Hick Show, all about them, as if we’re supposed to root for them, but ideally, through my ~deft hand 🙄 the reader 🙄🙄 was supposed to be like, Um... hold on-- until it eventually was quite obvious that these two--though human; though in situations we could understand and empathize with--were captured at a point in their lives when they were Super Toxic Assholes, and what you were watching all along was Craig as Hero.

So I had ideas, but I didn’t know how to fit them together and I didn’t want a really long story and I couldn’t--I just couldn’t figure it out. I do know that the end was going to be Craig screwing them like they’d been screwing him, a final middle finger with consequences. I know that he and Hick were going to have words and Hick was going to try and fight him (such a loser) and Charlie was going to throw a Hail Mary of like... trying to seduce (lol) Craig into staying omg I always had a thing for you/we’d be such a great team/I always thought we could ~be something ~together uwu bullshit like that. Was this true? Was this true in her own mind? I think I was going to set the story up so that if you reread, yeah, it could be true, but she’s so flirty and manipulative and socially savvy and used to getting what she wants that who knows what her real feelings ever are? Ultimately that would’ve been irrelevant bc Craig never looked at her that way and hates her and Hick now; good going guys. It’s worth noting, I guess, that when I put the group on a test lot, Charlie was super into Craig immediately, went right to him, stood close to him, was eager to make romantic overtures; she went 0 to 60 in an instant and as so far as is possible in this game they had chemistry, but Craig was not feeling the romance. And no one was feeling Hick.

Anyway, Craig was going to move on with his life and Charlie and Hick were going to learn nothing and blame him, ~the end.

And then, as I continued to play my save and maybe tell more stories, there would be Easter eggs, references to Charlie, Hick, and Craig older/in the future and where they went in life in the background of other, unrelated stories: Hick’s substance abuse problems and rehab stints and going by Richard again and his eventual moderate fame and eventual sobriety and attempted comeback and his bad relationships with his exes and children; Charlie’s legit fame + marriage to a producer + eventual fade away + moderate comeback + solid second or third marriage and bff relationship with her children 🙄🙄🙄 and her palatial house on the coast and now she exclusively wears white and ivory and pampers her dogs and eats raw (but drinks wine) because it “cured” her undiagnosed, unnamed “autoimmune disorder,” which she wrote a book about resulting in a semi-comeback but as a Famous Person and not a musician. Craig going to college and becoming a high school English teacher who plays in a local band on the weekends and who has a good marriage (not to the long distance gf) and nice kids, one of whom would eventually have her own story where she pursued musicianship with her dad, which got him back into his first passion but it was a qt father-daughter project and not An Attempt to Be Famous.

So. Idk. That’s what this all would’ve been. But it wasn’t, and it won’t be!

[fromtheashesofvalyria]

They were both too young to know how to love.

Of course leave it to Harry Potter to be what drags me back into writing fan fiction. Apologies to people who follow me already since this is pretty different from posts I’ve done in the past, so feel free to ignore. 

I just wanted to try and get some thoughts out about a fanfiction I’m currently writing, specifically the relationship between Harry and Daphne. Or the lack of one right now anyway. ;)

The basic background is that this is a soulmate AU with soulmate marks and empathy/semi-telepathy (I’m not sure what to call it honestly). The three main ships are Dramione, Ransy, and Pottgrass, and it’s a slowburn enemies to lovers starting from Goblet of Fire on. Emphasis on slowburn and enemies considering two of the involved are Draco and Pansy.

Before I started writing again, the only ones of those three I shippped/read fanfiction of were Draco/Hermione and Pansy/Ron. I originally picked Daphne because I’d read fics that had her as a character and liked her in them; after that I read two fanfics that made me really ship them, because the amount of ships I have due to fanart/fanfic is huge. (Previously I was, and actually still am, a Nottgrass shipper because I am a multi-shipper a lot of the time.)

I’m going to put the rest of my rambling under the cut.

So there are a couple different things going on here. The most superficial was that, when I had started writing, I’d been re-watching the Lizzie Bennet Diaries so I was a bit influenced by Pride and Prejudice when writing Daphne at first. Specifically the inspiration was Matthew Macfaden’s Darcy from the 2005 movie and Daniel Vincent Gordh’s William Darcy from LBD. (And as an aside Astoria was slightly based on Georgianna from the 2005 movie and Gigi Darcy from LBD.)

The inspiration became less strong the more I wrote, but her being standoffish/cold/rude to non-Slytherins (except Astoria) and the scene where Daphne tries to make a deal with Harry was inspired by Darcy's first, horrible proposal to Elizabeth. But that’s the shallower reason, let’s get into the meat of it, which is background vs appearance. 

Harry Potter was orphaned at the age of one years old, was raised in an abusive family who didn’t even give him a room for ten years, had no friends until he got to Hogwarts, and was lied to by the Dursleys’ about what his parents were actually like. There were no pictures of his parents, he wasn’t told they were a witch and wizard, and he didn’t even know they were murdered. When he is told about his parents, he is given the romanticized view of James and Lily and their relationship. He thinks they were the perfect picture of soulmates, as he hasn’t been told that James was once a jerk that Lily really disliked. His first real experience of familial love was with the Weasleys and thinks of them as the best family in the world. Daphne knows nothing of this aside from the fact that he was raised by muggles; I don’t think she thought much about Harry at all outside of times parts of his adventures were found out by the school. Like the flying car incident. As she said in the fanfic, Harry just sort of existed to Daphne. 

Harry is only fourteen years old at the start of the fic, and has only had a crush on Cho at this point, but he does know that he wants to have the real love and respect his parents had. He wants to have a family of his own that would actually be loving. He doesn’t want his potential future children to grow up without love. And, most importantly, he doesn’t think Daphne is capable of that. 

What Harry knows about Daphne’s background is that she’s part of an old, wealthy pureblood family a la the Malfoys or the Parkinsons. (He wouldn’t know the term Sacred Twenty-Eight.) That’s pretty much it and would be about the amount of knowledge all the students from the other houses would know (except for Astoria, the Ravenclaw little sister, who is just as uncomfortable as Daphne when asked to talk about their parents). Harry is also generally dismissive of Slytherin house as a whole thanks to Draco and his gang; he thought they looked like a “pale and unpleasant lot'' at the Welcome Feast in first year. 

Here’s how Daphne comes across to the kids outside of Slytherin: standoffish; doesn’t seem to talk much outside of class participation, and is often sarcastic when she does; doesn’t seem to have friends outside of Slytherin and the only non-Slytherin she is consistently genuinely affection towards is her little sister, and not everyone sees that; while not a member of Pansy’s gang is still known to be a good friend of Pansy’s, and is also close to Blaise who is seen as equally snobby. 

(Speaking of Blaise, Daphne still wants to know why she’s the only one to get an insulting nickname like Ice Queen when Blaise and Theo are often just as anti-social towards the other houses as she is. In Theo’s case, more so. XD) 

Of course, it’s easy to sympathize with Daphne when you know what her background is really like. Her parents, despite being soulmates, have an absolutely toxic relationship that their daughters had to witness: “Daphne Greengrass hadn’t been a fan of the soulmate concept for years now. She could even pinpoint the exact moment her disillusionment started: the night before her sixth birthday when her father finally told her mother that, soulmates or not, he had never loved her and had only married her out of both obligation to the bond and to the alliance with her family. This had then turned into a screaming match in her father’s study accompanied by the sound of glass being thrown at a wall.” This is just one incident. 

Daphne was so used to her parents arguing (and to be really clear, I’m not talking about normal arguments couples have; I’m talking about full-blown trying to verbally/emotionally hurt the other as possible or just arguing to try and win against the other person) that she was already making it her job to comfort Astoria, who “was still a baby, and upset by it”. Daphne has grown up with a very dim view of romance and romantic love. 

Now, Daphne does know that people can be genuinely in love. For all their many, many faults, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy are devoted to each other. Pansy’s parents aren’t on the same level, but are loving/affectionate enough with each other. However, she doesn’t think love and happiness are guaranteed so it’s better to have something more solid like respect or trust. However, that is hard to get across to Harry because she’s grown up to think being emotional is bad/a weakness and it’s hard for her to open up to people she doesn’t know well. (Pansy was her first friend at five years old and is still her best friend up until this point; it’s also the reason her other friends are the Slytherins she’s known for years at this point. People she’s used to.)

She could have approached Harry differently, flirted, or suggested dating, or tried to be romantic but she would have thought of that as dishonest/manipulative. Because Daphne knows love isn’t guaranteed for soulmates. Because Daphne knows she’s not the most likeable person. Because Daphne isn’t sure she could love Harry and doesn’t want to lie about it. Yes, Slytherins are all about cunning and clever ways to get what they want, but this is one of the areas Daphne would not even consider something like that. For all her issues, Daphne does have some standards. 

Self-control and (just control in general) is something Daphne clings to because her parents were often unpredictable and she had to create a sense of being in control of her life. Her father is not a warm or empathetic person and he looks down on people being too emotional. (Yes, this is supposed to be hypocritical considering he’d get into screaming matches with his wife.) He would be out of the house a lot for both work and to get away from his wife. Her mother was emotionally and mentally in a bad place for a long time and withdrew from her children a bit. She improved by the time Daphne was at school, but her favorite is clearly Astoria for reasons that will be expanded on later. Daphne tells herself she gets it because Astoria is her favorite family member too. (Also I just want to make this clear, Daphne and Astoria are close siblings who genuinely love and care about each other. Daphne is also Astoria’s favorite family member. Their relationship, as I like to see/write it could be another post though so moving on.) 

This need for self-control also was because of the stutter she had growing up. She was already self-conscious about it and she was very aware that her parents (her father in particular) saw it as a problem, which stressed her out more and made her stutter worse. The more emotional she’d get, the more likely she’d stutter. Whereas the more comfortable she was, the less often it happened. Pansy already mentioned in one of her POV’s that she barely heard Daphne stutter around her after a while; not a huge spoiler or surprise, but it was the same with Astoria. One of Daphne’s pre-Hogwarts tutors was essentially a wizard speech therapist, so she had it under control by first year but it was still recent enough at the time that she was pretty afraid of slipping up at school. Also consider the fact that some students (not just Slytherins either, but from all houses) made fun of Quirrell's stutter, and he was a teacher. (Yes he was evil, and only pretending to have one, but they didn’t know that then.) How much worse would the teasing be for a first year student? So as her father told her, sometimes it’s better not to talk at all. 

Harry doesn’t know any of this. 

Before things really started in the fanfic, Harry’s one interaction with Daphne that really stood out to him was that time she was sarcastic to him in first year after his first Quidditch game: “You know my family made the snitches used at Hogwarts. Please try not to choke on another of them next time.” When fourth year started, she ignored him completely in the Great Hall, and didn’t help her friend in a way he didn’t recognize/understand. 

The next day, Daphne sends him a note ordering him to meet her during lunch, after not acknowledging him in public. (As Harry says, she didn’t even write please. It also didn’t ask him for a date and time to talk, just told him to meet her in a specific location.) When he asked if she was proposing to date him, she “made a truly exasperated sounding noise” which definitely hurt his pride a little. She also tried to approach a relationship (not necessarily even a romantic relationship, just in general) with him, someone she has barely spoken to,  like a business deal, which he thinks is a cold way to look at it and he loses his temper. However, it should be noted that she asked him why when he rejected her out of hand and well, don’t ask a question you wouldn’t want an answer to. 

Later on he sees her picking on a second year for seemingly no reason. In reality, this is a girl who did something to her sister and Daphne doesn’t let things like that slide when it comes to people she cares about. 

Now afterwards things get murkier because Daphne is wanting to freeze him out/ignore him, but he is the one to poke at her. The soulmate bond is like an outside force that pushes down on two people to try and force them together, which can be downright unbearable if you really don’t like the other person. Harry finds the pressure it puts on them very hard and is stunned when she acts like she’s not affected at all. (He’d feel better if he knew she was feeling it just as much as him. Sort of like how Hermione and Ron both take comfort in the fact that Draco and Pansy are having as bad a time with the bond as they are.) He’s already under stress from the situation with his scar hurting and Sirius leaving his hideout to come back to England because of it, now add on to that the stress of an outside magical force trying to bond him to a girl he doesn't like and who doesn’t like him. No, he’s not handling it in a great way, but he’s young. 

And Daphne could always try and talk to him about things good (sending him a song through the bond to help him sleep when worry for Sirius was keeping him up) and bad (the incident with the second year), but she doesn’t try. Partly it’s out of pride, but largely it’s because she’s developed unhealthy coping skills that she doesn’t realize are unhealthy.

[the-ship-maker-2]

Tabby Anderson’s Backstory

It’s finally done. After a whole month of working on this. It’s done.

TW: Death, child abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, bullying, offensive language, mentions of suicide, homicide.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING.

      So….I probably should tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Tabithia Roxanne Anderson but please call me Tabby. I am seventeen years old and I have a slew of disorders. Starting with narcolepsy, insomnia, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, and paranoia. We’re probably missing a few others because therapists and doctors can’t do their jobs in diagnostics correctly…but anyways… I digress, I’ll get to that part later on in the story….

      Anyways from the time I was born I was already at a disadvantage. My mother Shanna Wolfe had me with my biological dad Michael Anderson. My mother… how do I describe her… she’s a good person all around for the most part… She has a big heart and is very compassionate… very moraled and loyal too. But she’s not very bright and she lacks the ability to stand up for herself to which she couldn’t stand up for me. My biological dad was the complete opposite. He was intelligent and able to stand up to anyone….if that included getting over on other people and standing up to anyone who was weaker than him. He was a coward and a bully. I came to despise him later on in life as I got older. He’s dead now thank thy lord. He died when I was twelve due to pneumonia and drug overdose. He was always into drugs as far as I knew growing up but he didn’t get into the hardcore drugs like heroin and meth later on. But I’m getting ahead of myself. As a child I remember only getting three to four hours of sleep at night (My insomnia wasn’t diagnosed at the time yet) and seeing the bruises on my mother’s face on her eyes and cheekbones. My mother was abused mentally, verbally, emotionally, and physically. Always listening to them arguing. I myself got lucky somehow. I was just neglected by my dad. 

      I remember my mom telling me this story once or so. I was left by myself. My dad was upstairs with the neighbors getting high on weed and other things. My mom was at work at the time. She used to work at a nursing and rehabilitation center called The Hills as a CNA before she got fired. Sometimes she would bring me to work if she really couldn’t find a babysitter and I would sit in the lounge watching the two movies I brought with me. Which was always Bartok the Magnificent and Shark Tale. But anyways I was left by myself and I saw something on the coffee table. Turns out they were pain pills on a high dosage. It was brightly colored and I thought it was candy so I was about to take them. My mom walked through the front door just in the nick of time. She screamed at me and snatched me away from the coffee table. I was confused but later on in life I was thankful for what she did. Later on that night I heard them getting into a fight about what happened. My mother lost of course but she still tried to do what was right as a mother for once. I was four years old.

      One of the stories that I really remember is when my grandmother came to visit. My dad’s mother. It was my first traumatic event. He was too lazy to get his own drugs which were just weed at the time from a couple of blocks down where his drug dealer was. He threatened my grandmother at knife point saying how if she doesn’t get his drugs then he’ll slit her throat. My dumbass at the time came out of my room and down the stairs so I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He saw me and with lightning speed came over to me and held the same knife at me thoat. I began to cry. My dad said that If I didn’t stop crying and if I didn’t get his drugs then He would kill me, my mom and grandmother. So I was reduced to sniffles and agreed. He gave me the address which was literally down the street just five houses down. I’ve seen the house before all the time due to mom taking me to go to the park to play. So I knew where to go. I did what I was told and no one was killed thankfully. That was the last straw for my mother when she found out. She packed up our stuff that actually belonged to us and took me with her out of that house that we were living in. That’s really the only time I can remember when my mother actually stood up for me and did her actual job as a mother. I was also four at the time.

      We got our own apartment pretty quickly. It was on the other side of town. It wasn’t the good part of town, lots of drug users and dealers and drunks in my neighborhood. But we were poor and it was the cheapest that we could get for rent. But my mom got it all on her own and well beggars can’t be choosers. However, even with this new found freedom she still lacked the ability to stand up for herself. Like I said before she’s very compassionate and is just too good for her own good. She would bring home random strangers she met on the streets to “help them back up on their feet” in exchange for helping around the house and babysitting me. But in reality they were just there for the pussy and free ride. They used my mom in every way possible. And that’s what started my severe distrust and dislike of males in general. I assumed that just about every male was like that since that seemed to be the same pattern with every person she brought in.  I was still neglected so I learned to do the basics of taking care of myself. I learned how to get myself up on time, I learned to bathe myself and I learned to make canned soup, cereal, and sandwiches, and I learned to keep myself occupied. I’m honestly still asking myself how the fuck am I still alive? Because It’s already dangerous enough bringing home strangers from the streets especially if there’s a kid involved. I mean who knows what could happen if i was left alone with strangers who clearly didn’t give two fucks about me. Miraculously I’m still alive and I was just neglected like usual. 

       I…have this gift that is the core of my intuition.I can just see through a person easily and figure out what their true intentions are vaguely. I’ve always been highly intuitive on top of being able to see the paranormal. I could always vaguely tell if a person is good or bad with just a minute of looking at them. And with every person she brought home I always felt uncomfortable and I can just tell that they had bad intentions. I always tried to tell my mom about each person that she brought home but like with every adult that I ever encountered she brushed me off and told me that I was wrong. But I knew better. I knew I wasn’t wrong. God, looking back on it now, one of the few good things that I miss about my younger self is the amount of self confidence that I had that I lost over the years. Eventually I stopped trying to tell my mother about the various people that she brought home and just kept everything to myself. I mean why keep trying the same thing that I know doesn’t work? Anyways I just focused more on myself for my own survival since my mom wouldn’t listen to me. My mom actively made the choices to bring home these people so she knew what she was doing and I didn’t worry about her. Let her have the consequences of her own actions. I had and still don’t have sympathy for her. 

      Then on that fateful day, he came along.

       I came home from preschool one day. I opened up the door to see my mom standing there and this strange man sitting on our couch. We locked eyes. His piercing icy blue eyes met my unnaturally wide hazel eyes that still take up 50% of my face. As I said before I can read people easily and normally have a very good intuition about them after a few minutes. But…strangely enough…I couldn’t read him for the life of me. He gave nothing away which piqued my curiosity. After all, who was this strange man? What was he doing here? What were his intentions with my mother? And why can’t I read him like I can with everyone else? After what seemed like an awkward forever of sizing each other up my mom Introduced us. We exchanged names. He said that his name was Michael Timothy Mulleney jr. My mom said she was going to the store real quick and she left me alone with him to babysit me. I approached him with cautious optimism. He just felt different from the others that mom brought home. We made small talk to get to know each other and we used to have a lot in common. We both liked video games and disney and other things. I took an instant liking to him and that happened with no adult family or not especially males in particular. He was different. He was unlike anyone I ever met. I was naive and didn’t know any better back then. My mom finally came home and she found me curled up on his lap, napping to Peter Pan. Which is why I will forever love Peter Pan because it was the first thing he introduced me to and overall it just reminds me of a better time in my childhood when I was happy and I had my dad/best friend back then. I think she was honestly surprised to find out that I hadn’t chased him out of the house. So she took that as a sign to bring him around more often and to keep him.

     He came around more often after that. We were a handful to each other. I was used to adults neglecting me. So I was used to having to do everything myself and I never really asked for help. I wasn’t used to having to be taken care of and asking for permission to have stuff. So there were fights over that. Which was really frustrating to me because he requested a two hour nap every time he came over first. He had a weird sleep schedule. He’s a night owl. So I had to keep myself occupied and wait for him to wake up. If I was hungry then I was hungry and I wasn’t going to wait for him. Ain’t no one has the time for that. Eventually we established a boundary and compromised. If I waited for him to wake up then I could still have my freedom of doing things myself as long as I was supervised. He’d let me do whatever since I’ve shown him that I could take care of myself as long as he stood in whatever doorway to the room of whatever activity I was doing to make sure I didn’t hurt myself or break anything and to periodically check up on me. 

       I was also not used to rules and consequences and routine. Since I was loosely taken care of, meaning that I was fed, showered, went to school, and not dead. Adults wanted nothing to do with me and my mother was always too busy to establish any rules or consequences. If she did it wasn’t consistent so I just did whatever I wanted for the most part. My life was nothing but chaos with the amount of people coming and going. My step dad was the first to establish rules and consequences which resulted in a lot of time outs and early bedtimes. He never used to hit me or abuse me verbally, emotionally or mentally. Eventually I learned to follow the rules and we established a routine. It was nap time for him when he first walked through the door and I had a few hours to keep myself occupied while I waited for him to wake up. When he did wake up we would do whatever together, I got as many snacks that I wanted, we played with my stuffed animals, play-wrestled with each other, we would color, watch tv, sometimes he would take me to the park and play with me since other kids wouldn’t. Around 6pm it was dinner time I had whatever my mom left for me in the fridge. Or I had spaghettios. After that it was shower time, then I picked up my toys, then I would watch family guy with him (My mom didn’t really care what I watched back then as long as it wasn’t pornography). Then it was bedtime. 

      You see before he met my mom. He recently came out of a 12 year relationship with his ex girlfriend. And he has two other kids. His oldest came to us by accident later on in my life and I became the middle child. Anyways, She cut off all contact with him in his kids so he couldn’t see them and take care of them anymore. Since he was free now he became more reckless since he really wasn’t tied down anywhere anymore and he had nothing to lose. In a sense I was his redemption as a parent and as he spent more time with my mom and I the less reckless he became. He settled down because it was like ‘oh shit there’s a kid involved here I can’t do that anymore’. 

      During those times where he would come over he’d teach me a lot of life skills. He taught me how to pick up after myself. He taught me self defense and how to fight a little, just in case I ever found myself in trouble and there was no other option. Heh… who knew that would pay off during my years at Rosewood and in my life now. The moves and stances are the foundation of my fighting style which is more on the defensive side. He taught me how to cook basic meals, hard boiled eggs, ramen, mac and cheese, and spaghetti. Which he helped me discover my passion for cooking. I had a job in a restaurant working in the kitchen before I quit because of my left hand. He taught me how to read and write. Which he helped me discover my passion for reading and writing. I was always writing stories with my limited vocabulary and I would pull all nighters discreetly finishing my masterpieces. I am the picasso of literature. More importantly he was someone that I could talk to. I never had anyone to do that with save for Autumn later on. I told him everything and anything and he told me everything and anything. Well what was appropriate for a four year old to know. He told me stories about his life from when he was a kid. He was the first person to step up and be the father figure and raise me when my own mother and family wouldn’t. I owe him indefinitely and despite all the abuse and shit he put me through I can never hate him fully. That year and a half of my life was one of the happiest years of my childhood. I thought it would last forever. 

      I mentioned before that I could see the paranormal. At first it was just tall lanky shadowy figures of various sizes. I never figured out what they were really called so I just called them what I saw them as. Tall, lanky shadowy figures I didn’t think too much of them since all they did was just watch and they weren’t causing me harm. I just went with the flow. Sometimes they would come to me other times they would not. It was a hit or miss. On the times that the shadowy figures would show up I would talk about my day, what was bothering me, or just what was on my mind at the time with my limited four year old vocabulary. I was young and lonely and I did not understand the concept of filtering and giving out too much information.  As I got older the shadowy figures’s visit became less and less frequent. Occasionally they would show up and I would give them a nod in acknowledgement and have a conversation with them. I used to believe that that would be the extent of my abilities.

     But one night it became so much more than that.

     It started out as any average day in my life.It was cloudy. I woke up, ate, showered, and kept myself occupied by watching some movies or playing with my toys. But the entire day just felt off… Like you know how cats and dogs can tell if there’s a thunderstorm coming and the act all weird? It was like that for me. There was an ominous feel in the air like something bad was going to happen. I just didn’t know what at the time. At first I thought something bad was going to happen to my mom. So I begged her not to go into work that day but she brushed me off and told me not to worry about her and that she would be fine. She didn’t listen to me like usual. 

      Now despite my mom still having strangers in the house she realized that none of them were going to babysit me finally. Even my step dad wasn’t around the whole time. And it was one of those days where he couldn’t babysit me. So I was bounced around from babysitter to babysitter. Sometimes it was other family members other times it was just whatever my mom could find to hire. I never lasted a week with any of them. With other family members it was because I interrupted their lives and they saw me as extra baggage and didn’t want anything to do with me. They always found some sort of excuse to return me back early to my mom. So it was nice to know that I wasn’t wanted by my own biological family. As for the strangers that my mom hired I just simply didn’t like them. I gave them as much as a hard time that I could. They lacked common human decency and respect. They knew nothing of the routines in my household when I did. They told me that no that’s not it. Like? Bitch I live here you don’t. What do you know about my life in my household? My thing was don’t tell me what to do when you don’t know dick about shit about my household. This is what started my severe hatred for adults. 

      Anyways, this time my babysitter was a stranger that my mom managed to hire. A fifteen year old blonde petite girl by the name of Maggie Hemmington. At the time I thought she was an adult but then again anyone older than 10 is an adult to you when you’re four years old. She wore stuff that expressed she was into the occult stuff. When she came over that day the feeling of something bad was going to happen jumped to 1000. I became more insistent and screaming, crying and begging my mom to not leave me alone with her. But again my mom brushed me off and tried to reassure me the best she could. In the end she left for work and me alone with that bitch. The day was awful with lots of fights and screaming at each other. She was just an awful person; she didn’t even do her job. I still had to go and take care of myself. Eventually she made me go to bed early saying that she was going to have friends over and she didn’t want a brat like me to get in the way. Which she wasn’t supposed to have friends over to begin with but after the day I had I was more than happy to oblige. The quicker I went to sleep, the quicker I could wake up and have it be the next day. So like the good kid I once was I went up to my room and surprisingly I actually fell asleep naturally.

    It was around midnight or so I would like to believe. I honestly don’t remember much of what happened that night. I only remember what I remember due to months of pushing through the painful headaches and flashbacks that have accompanied me ever since. I don’t remember the full story so I’m probably missing a few parts but I remember enough to piece together a semi complete story. 

    Anyways I believe it was midnight or so. I remember waking up to Maggie and her friends screaming. I was scared and confused as to what was happening. Hindsight is 20/20 I probably should have just stayed in bed. Although to be honest I don’t think that this night wouldn’t have ended differently even if I did just stay in bed. And in all actuality I didn’t hate her or any of her friends for that matter. At least, not enough to leave them to their deaths. What if they were in trouble? I was the only there that could do anything. If i didn’t that would make me a coward and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. What if they were dead? Then what? If I did go down there and saw what I saw if they were dead how would I explain what I saw to the police? To my mom? All these questions and choices ran through my head. However, my pride and what little compassion that I had got in the way. I didn’t raise myself to be a coward and i wasn’t going to start then and they sounded like they were in trouble. They needed me. So I made the choice to sneak downstairs to see what was up and figure it out from there. The apartment itself was quite old so the staircase was creaky. However, there were spots that weren’t creaky, I knew where they were. Going down the stairs was like doing an intricate dance to avoid the creaky spots. I crouched down halfway down the staircase. The apartment had dim lighting as it was so there were lots of shadows all over the place. I was wearing a black nightshirt and I was tan  and small enough to hide in the shadows. I looked through the bars of the stairs and I saw Maggie and her friends huddled together with the look of absolute fear in their eyes staring straight ahead and a ouija board in front of them. I couldn’t see what they were seeing at the time. But I could feel a dark and powerful aura that was around. It was uncomfortable and overwhelming. It was almost suffocating. The…entity…as I called it because I didn’t know what it was since I couldn’t see it but I could feel it and hear it. All that I knew was that it was a malicious entity. It kept coming closer to where I was hiding. I crouched down more to make myself appear smaller. But the entity snatched me up and as far as I knew I was levitating in thin air. The entity had a suffocating grip on me. I don’t remember much because Maggie, her friends and I were too busy screaming, crying, and I was trying to fight my way out. I even tried to bite the entity but that only resulted in it tightening its grip on me even more. Maggie was trying to negotiate a different price for summoning the entity, Since it said that it required a sacrifice as a price for summoning it. And well…I was it. After hours of screaming, crying and negotiating they came to a compromise. What that compromise was I have no idea to this day. But all I remember is a pressure on my forehead and just a flood of painful life truths and knowledge on more paranormal creatures and how to deal with them. I was screaming and crying in pain and agony. It was too much all at once and I felt like my head was going to explode. The night seemed to go on for forever to me…I thought that it would never end. Until it did. After the entity was done I blacked out I can’t tell you what happened after even if I tried. This is why to this day I don’t fuck with horror movies, witchcraft, and ouija boards. I don’t go actively looking for stuff that I don’t understand what I’m dealing with.

      The next morning I woke up back in my room in my own bed. I had a painful headache in the center of my forehead, like the equivalent of a really bad hangover. I was really confused as to what happened last night. I knew something happened, I just didn’t know what. That is until the painful knowledge that I received last night came flowing back like a flood. I was crying and screaming in agony until the flashbacks subsided. My mom came running in to see what was wrong. She asked me what was wrong. But I couldn’t tell her the truth of what really happened last night. She wouldn’t have believed me anyways. Instead I just cuddled up to her and held onto her tight and just cried until I ran out of tears and was reduced to a sniffling, hiccupping mess. I just suffered in silence while my mom rubbed my back and petted my hair. 

     The next three months was a bitch to deal with. I was a mess. I still did what I needed to do. I went to preschool although I was more antisocial than usual and I was more jumpy. I was just more of a broken quiet, my wide hazel eyes had a haunted look to them on top of them being slightly sunken back and I had dark circles under them, I wasn’t sleeping much during those three months. I was an awful sight. I was almost sickly skinny, I wasn’t eating much for those three months as well. It was evident that I was a shell of my former self. After preschool, I ate the bare minimum to stay alive and to shower when I had the energy to do so. I didn’t want to be out of my room longer than I had to. I was afraid the entity would come back for me. The rest of the time I laid in bed with my covers pulled up, staring at the wall or ceiling for hours on end just empty headed and crying when the flashbacks and nightmares occurred. The worst part was that I was alone. Mom was either working or sleeping and she knew that my trauma had to do with Maggie so my mom stopped with the babysitters and just left me alone. She wasn’t supposed to but she didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t tell my step dad about what happened. And I used to tell this man everything and anything. Back then we didn’t have secrets with each other. But I couldn’t tell him…this. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. The only ones that I told were my friends when they gained enough trust. So I kept it to myself. My step dad didn’t push me back then. He knew when to back off and respect my boundaries. He dropped it when I didn’t want to talk about it. He knew something happened to me but didn’t know what. He checked up on me when he was there to make sure I was okay and got a little bit of something to eat. 

     A month has passed and my step dad had enough of me being bed ridden. He gave me this piece of advice that I live by to this day. He sat on my bed and rubbed my back. It was a particularly bad day. The flashbacks and headaches were non stop and sleep was non existent. He was saying how he could tell that I was scared and he hated seeing me like this everyday. He also said that he knew that I wasn’t a coward and he knew a way to help me face any fear that I would have. That caught my attention so I sat up a little to pay better attention. He told me this: The more you know the less you have anything to be afraid of. After all you can’t be afraid of something if you know what that thing is. He left me alone after that and it was something to think about. 

      I gave myself a week to think about it. By Friday I decided that I had enough. I didn’t want to be stuck in bed. I was tired of the constant flashbacks and headaches. I was tired of living in fear. It’s not a fun way to live as I would discover that realization again later on in my life, and guess what? That night when I made my decision to start not being afraid anymore was the first night that sleep overcame me with no flashbacks and headaches the following day. I guess as I started to make peace with what I was about to do had something to do with that too.

      The next day before my mom left for work and my step dad came over to babysit me I told them my decision and asked if I could go to the library. I figured that the first step to not being afraid is getting everything on that subject. My mom agreed and left her library card for us to use (I didn’t get my own until I was six). I think my mom was just relieved that I wasn’t going to be bedridden anymore and that I was actually going out to get some fresh air. After my mom left, I grabbed  my black backpack that he gave me and we went to the library. I got every book I could on the supernatural and how to deal with them. I definitely got some confused and concerned looks from the librarians and my step dad. I ignored the librarians and my step dad didn’t push it. I assumed that he picked up on the type of books that I was getting and figured out what I was scared of but he was more than willing to help me conquer my fears. We checked them out and we had a month with them before we had to return them. My backpack was so filled that it made me look like an oversized turtle. I wasn’t a good reader back then mainly due to reading comprehension. It wasn’t my strong suit back then. But I was one hell of a writer. So even though he was confused on the subjects that I picked, he helped out with reading the books and helped me take down notes. The more I understood the less I was becoming less and less afraid.

      The next step to me for not being afraid was getting the full story on what happened that night. To tell you the truth I honestly didn’t really remember what happened exactly. I remember bits and pieces of what happened due to flashbacks and memories but not in order. and I don’t remember what happened after I blacked out.My thought process was that I can finally understand and not be afraid anymore if I learned the truth of what really happened. Despite me staying out of my room more and more I still spent an equal amount of time there. I would deliberately sit myself down and go through that day’s events, walking myself through step by step. It wasn’t until I got to the part where I was snatched and then the flashbacks would come back intensely. But nevertheless I pushed through. I would always have a violent headache after each and every session. Literally my diet consisted of whatever I ate and children’s tylenol. It wasn’t easy and there were days where I stepped back from the progress that I made but little by little I got to piece together as much of a complete story that I could. 

      Over time the flashbacks and headaches became less and less frequent as I got older. Occasionally nowadays I would get the nightmare of that event which would always be followed by a headache in the center of my forehead the next morning. But I would just take some ibuprofen and be on my way. They don’t happen as much anymore like they used to. Over time I became less and less afraid and I became well more normal after that. Well as normal as I could get after an event like that. I was happy more often. I had my dad/best friend. I pushed boundaries, I got time outs and early bedtimes. I played with my toys and with him and I went to preschool and I ate a lot and regularly more often. I was doing fine. I was getting better.

    Then my step dad left us. I was five at the time.

    He left us for two years. Turns out he went to prison for breaking and entering an abandoned building while he was drunk looking for a place to sleep for the night. The day I found out I was hurt, confused, lonely, and pissed. I was confused because why did he leave us all of a sudden? Where was he? Was he okay? Would we be able to see him again? I was hurt because I had all of these questions running through my head. Did he not love us anymore? Did he even love us at all? Was I a bad kid and that’s why he left us? Was I too much to handle and so he said fuck it and left? Was my mom not good enough? Were we not good enough for him? Then I was pissed because how dare he leave us? Us of all people? We didn’t do anything wrong to deserve this and he had the audacity to leave us! I was also pissed at myself more than anything. My intuition was wrong about him. My intuition was rarely wrong about anything in my life. Although I couldn’t read him at first he proved himself to be different than the rest of the people my mom brought home. He stayed for a year. That’s the longest anyone has ever stayed in my life at the time. He actually stayed and didn’t run away from his responsibilities. He was the first person to take me in and raise me when my own mother and biological family wouldn’t. I thought that he was different….I was wrong obviously but I didn’t realize just how wrong I was until later on in life.

     I never felt more alone since that day. There were only two other times but nothing would compare to that day when he left. 

    This is the reason why I have severe trust issues.

    It was downhill after that. Mom lost her job and the apartment so we bounced from motel to motel. Mom was either busy sleeping or looking for jobs. I don’t blame her, it was tiring for her to be looking for jobs for 8 hours a day. So she needed the sleep. Although the rare times she was up she did spend time with me and we would watch tv together. Other times I had to take care of myself and my mom. So I kept myself entertained and my mom barely had enough money for the week to stay let alone for food more times than not. In every motel that we’ve been to there was also a convenience store. Some were nice and were understanding of my home situation so they would let me pick out two things to eat for free. One for me and one for my mom once a day. They were nice. Other store employees weren’t so nice and understanding. But my mom and I had to eat so I learned to lie and steal from them. We had to survive and eat and I was willing to do that by any means necessary. The worst part is that instead of stopping and only doing it when I needed to. I got better at it and I became more clever. I absolutely hated stealing from the store that was nice to me but desperate times called for desperate measures and I wasn’t even sorry for it.

     School wasn’t any easier for me. The only things I was good at was everything else but math and gym. I was also good at being a teacher’s pet. It was the only way I could survive at school and I really was a good kid once upon a time and that’s how I got away with mostly everything at school from kindergarten through 11th grade. 

    That’s when the bullying started for the first time. They made fun of me for being homeless and not being good at math and not being strong enough for gym class. I didn’t know exactly how to deal with it at first since I wasn’t good at social situations. At first I ignored them or shot back an even worse insult to them for k-4. 

    Eventually my mom got a job at a restaurant making sandwiches and we eventually got our own apartment again.I was seven at the time. It was decent about the size of a single wide trailer, three bedrooms and all for $725 a month. It was on the poor side of Maplehood Creek. So there was a lot of crime and drug deals but beggars can’t be choosers. We settled into a routine very quickly. Mom went to work and I went to school and business as usual. We never really saw each other often. However, it was a nice change to have some form of stability instead of stealing and lying to survive and the uncertainty of it working. 

    The best part? My step dad came back to us. However, when he did come back he….changed…..He was always the stoic, tough love type but…this was different. I get the people change over the years, especially after a few years of being away from people. But not like this. Looking back on it he came back more distant….and more cold and calculating…. But I didn’t care at the time. I was just happy and excited to have my dad/ best friend back. No more lonely days, no more fear, no more sadness, like all of the hurt, anger, confusion, loneliness, and sadness for the last two years just melted away…. I was just so desperate that I overlooked the warning signs. But anyways, I ran up to hug him as soon as he came back through the door for the first time in two years. I hugged him like my life depended on it, as if I let go he would walk out again. But he didn’t hug me back like he normally would. I just chalked it up to the fact that he probably needed time to adjust. Which was fine. That’s understandable. I figured that after he got used to us again we could go back to being a family once again. Like the good old days but perhaps this time with something better.

    BUT BOY WAS I WRONG….LIKE 180 DEGREES WRONG……I WAS SO VERY, VERY WRONG!!!

    The abuse started light…at first it was just cutting words and biting remarks….He didn’t start hitting me until I was nine. I really didn’t think anything of it. I often do things to get those comments. I fucked up a lot of things that I was supposed to do that I really shouldn’t have fucked up to begin with. It hurt what he said to me but I just thought it was his new form of discipline. I always thought the point of discipline was that it was supposed to hurt so that you don’t do the bad thing again. It wasn’t anything bad at first. Just normal stuff, he would always call me “stupid”, “worthless”, “Useless” “I’m a burden and that no one wants me” The works. I put up with it because I was desperate to get my best friend back. I thought that if I showed that I was strong enough to take whatever he threw my way then it would show how loyal and worthy I was of being back into his good graces again.

    School was beginning to become more and more difficult. Academics was fine. I was too smart for what they were teaching. I was often ahead of my classes. I wouldn’t call myself a genius, otherwise it would have been proven earlier on in my life. I was just above average in intelligence. I would always be ahead for that week in whatever lesson they would be teaching. But the bullies….the bullies got worse….It was just superficial shit. Saying how bad I am at math even though I was good at other subjects, no one wanted to be my friend because I was mean and awkward, I was too weird…. I was only mean because I could see right through them they weren’t good people. I wanted nothing to do with them. And they started with me first. I didn’t start fights, I finished them. I remember something my step dad said to me in passing later on in life. It was an off-color remark and I don’t think he intended for me to use it in the way I did but it proved useful in every fight I’ve been in verbal and physical. He said this to me “Be more afraid of someone who can ruin your life with a press of a button than of someone who can pack a punch. Physical wounds heal mental wounds don’t. Be vicious with your attacks and go for the throat. Hit where it would hurt the most”. And I still live by that. I’ve made people run away crying from my words. Don’t start with me and I won’t start with you. Plain and simple. As for my weirdness. Well, I was more reserved and quiet. I was antisocial and due to my step dad I had increased hostility and ‘behavioral issues’. But I guess I’ve also had my personal darkness following me around. Always just barely below the surface. I guess it created an unsettling aura around me that always made others uncomfortable. Oh well.

     Nine is when things turned up a notch for the first time. Lot’s of things happened. I was in 4th grade. Adam was born, I got into my first fist fight, the abuse became worse at home, and I made my first important choice that would change my life forever. 

    But one thing at a time. Let’s start with the birth of my little brother Adam.

    I was nine years old. It was October 3. 2011. Adam was born. His full name is Adam Mitchell Mulleney. I always wanted a sibling, someone I could protect and take care of and teach. Preferably a sister, but beggars can’t be choosers.  The moment I held him was the moment I knew I had to protect him. From what? I don’t know. But anyways my step dad doesn;t do babies. So he didn’t even help take care of him. Mom wasn’t the strongest mentally speaking so she wasn’t fit to take care of him. So I did, mostly. I was more of his mother than his big sister at the time. We went to a daycare so that helped me out a lot. But mainly I took care of him for the first three years of his life on top of school, and the increasing abuse from my step dad. He was saying recently back then how I was a bad influence to everyone I met and how much of a monster I was. How I was incapable of making good decisions, always. But back then I didn’t believe him. God, I miss the self confidence I used to have. Before life and reality kept giving me brutal beatings and I just gave up. But I didn’t believe him at the time because Adam proved otherwise. I mean how could I be a bad person when I was keeping Adam alive, healthy and happy? It didn’t make sense to me. I was there for the formative years. I taught him almost everything I know. At least enough for a toddler to understand. It was enough hopefully for him to have the basics of survival for when I couldn’t be with him anymore when I left for my new life. I did the best I could as a 9-12 year old pseudo mother. 

     As Adam got to be older he quickly became the family favorite. My step dad treated him like the golden child like he could do no wrong. He gave Adam the love and affection that I used to get. But yet he treated me like shit. So you can imagine the growing animosity I had towards my family and life. And unfortunately, after I was done taking care of him and my parents finally took over and did their actual jobs for once I grew to hate Adam more and more for a while until I got older and I realized a few things. But that’s later on in the story.

    Like I said before, the abuse from my step dad got worse. I remember the very first time he hit me. When I was nine I got my first chore other than cleaning my room. It was dishes. At first I was excited about it because it was like “finally I’m a big kid now!” But I wasn’t good at it for the first three days. I have sensory and vision issues so I can’t feel or see the dead food on the plates sometimes but I really did try my best. My step dad got fed up with me after the third day of me doing dishes. He got so angry at me that he broke one of the dirty dishes on the floor and then moved with the speed of a viper. He smacked me across the face so hard that you could hear the crack that came with it. My face turned so fast I swear that I almost broke my neck. The force behind was so strong that I fell into the pile of broken ceramic and I could hear ringing in my ears. He yelled at me saying I’m a useless child and that I can’t do anything right and that I’m stupid because I can’t do a simple dish right. He then stormed off and hid in his bedroom for a while. I just sat there in shock. It was a good couple of minutes before the stinging, and ringing died down and before I could turn my head. I’m pretty sure he left a red mark and I just cried silently. I was just so confused as to why he would hurt me. He’s never done so before…But I quickly justified it as I deserved it. He doesn’t do shit for no reason he always has a reason for the shit he does even if he never told me. If I hadn’t fuck up something so easy like dishes I wouldn’t have gotten smacked that day. I cleaned up the broken pieces of the plate and cleaned up myself from the cuts I got and I just went on with my day.

    There were always incidents like that. I’d fuck something up whether it’s completely wrong or not up to his god like standards, I’d get smacked. Whether it was across my face or upside the head. Or sometimes he would pin me to the ground or to the wall by my neck if I even tried to defend myself with words of course. I never once tried to fight him that would ensure my death. I was always all about survival. I only fought fights that I knew I would most likely win or if I felt strongly for that cause. 

    My mom was always at work for the most part. She would come home later in the night when Adam and I were asleep. On her days off she either slept, or she took Adam and I on errands. It was her form of quality time with us. Sometimes if the incidents took place while she was home she would ignore it, only focusing on Adam to keep him sheltering him from the fucked upness of the situation and just let my step dad and I figure it out. But yet failing to protect me. Although I understood why she would protect him more than me. Because I would do the same too. He’s younger, he has more of his entire life ahead of him. I don’t need him to be fucked up and ruin his chances of living a happy, normal life. I’ll be damned if someone were to take that away from him. Although sometimes my mom would actually do her job as a parent and step in to protect me by arguing with him. But that always fails because she gets meek and worn down from his relentless arguing. Gradually she stopped doing that as well. He never hit my mom or Adam or Michael when he came into my life later on. It was just me. I used to believe that if I left then he would take out his anger on my mom and Adams and use them as scapegoats. I thought I was protecting them so I still stayed. But I was quickly proven wrong about my belief as I realized that he just had it out for me.

   School was getting increasingly worse. On top of the abuse I recieved at home which made me more vicious and hostile and according to my teachers I had “increasing behavioral problems” the bullying was getting worse too. The kids kept telling me how useless and worthless I was. How weird I was, how nobody liked me. I didn’t mind it coming from my step dad because I was getting used to it and a scrawny nine year old can’t fight a grown man who’s twice to three times her size. I’m normally able to separate business from personal. Home was personal, school was business for me. That’s how I survived for so long, especially when I went to Rosewood Preparatory school later on in the story. I was always able to fight two battles on two different fronts. One at school and the other at home. If I was at school I shut off the war at home and focused my energy on surviving the day. If I was at home I shut off the war at school and focus my energy on surviving another night at home just to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Keep on fighting in the meantime. 

    Anyways, school was supposed to be a break from my stepdad to me. Just enough of a reprieve to help me survive. And I wasn’t getting that with the kids repeating the things my step dad told me. I had enough.

    One day while I was in math class in the fourth grade. I had Mr. Williamson at Maplehood Creek Elementary School. I sat in front of Alan Washburn. He was one of my many bullies but he and Nikola Whilems were my main ones at Maplehood. Mr. Williamson wasn’t paying attention, he had his back turned to the smartboard teaching the rest of the class long division at the time. I was minding my own business and was actually trying to learn the lesson. Math wasn’t my strong suit and he and Nikola always picked on me because of it amongst the other things they picked on me about. Alan got the brilliant idea to pull me by the back of my ponytail so my head was bent over backwards and his face was upside down in my perspective. He told me “How does it feel to be the retard in the class?” with that cocky, annoying, arrogant smirk, and then pushed my head with enough force to make the front of my head hit my desk. I let out an audible “ow” and everyone turned to look at me including Mr. Williamson. I sat up and pretended like nothing happened. Everyone went back to what they were doing. I heard Alan and Nikola snicker and that;s when I lost it and that’s how I got into my first fist fight. I turned around in my desk to face Alan, balled my hand into a fist and I just decked him square in the face as hard as I could and I broke his nose. It hurt like hell for the both of us but seeing the look of fear on his face after I punched him was so satisfying to me. Then I leaped over my desk and tackled him to the ground. Back then I didn’t know how to fight as well as I do now. I only knew the basics from my step dad and it was the first fight I ever got into. I just sat on his chest and bitch slapped him until his face was red and started crying like the little bitch that he was. I screamed at him to “say that you’re sorry and say it like you mean it!”. The other kids surrounded us. Some looked at us in awe, some looked at us in shock and some looked at us in fear. Mr. Williamson had to pull me off of him. I was breathing heavily, ears burning and rash like from anger and Alan scurried into a corner of the classroom whimpering and in a protective position. I made direct eye contact with Nikola and he looked so pale and afraid of me. In all honesty I felt relieved and accomplished. It was nice to distribute retribution and to finally have power over them. On that day I asked myself why didn’t I do that sooner?

    Unfortunately Maplehood Creek Elementary School has a zero tolerance for violence, so I was sent to the principal’s office for the day. The punishment for a violent physical fight was expulsion. Yeah, they were really strict about that. My mom didn’t come to get me until school was out for the day at 3:30pm since that’s when she got out of work that day. My mom  and my principal Mrs. McCaulen had a conversation about what would be the most efficient course of action for me. I was getting expelled, there was no getting out of that. But expulsion was for a year at Maplehood  and then I could try again. Neither one of them wanted me to be behind in my school work and since I was too smart of the school work anyways for the most part they felt bad and didn’t want to waste any of my potential intelligence. So, They gave me two choices. One, I could do homeschooling for the rest of the school year and then come back next school year. Or, Mrs. McCaulen said that she knew some higher ups at a place called Rosewood Preparatory School and could pull some strings to get me in after Christmas break since it was December at the time. I would switch schools after Christmas break and I would finish schooling there. She explained to me that Rosewood was a prestigious private school in the downtown area where the rich people lived. It was a k-12 school. It was a place where the rich, problematic and intelligent people got better and got a good education. You have to wear a uniform and meet certain qualifications to get in. But since I was highly intelligent and definitely had enough issues to spare. Mrs. McCaulen was certain that I could get in. She also added that after I graduated I could get into just about any esteemed college since Rosewood was a prestigious school itself. That sounded promising to me since I already knew that I didn’t want to be in Maplehood all my life and be stuck with my family forever. Once upon a time I actually had high hope and a bright outlook on my future. I didn’t want to do homeschooling because the only one that was home all the time was my step dad since he was a stay at home dad. Mom worked almost all the time to provide everything for the house and us. My step dad is a good teacher when he’s not being an abusive, manipulative, arrogant prick. However, If I chose homeschooling I knew that my step dad wouldn’t let me go back the next school year and keep me locked up in the apartment forever or until he dies. Not only that but once again school was the only break I ever got from him. It’s how I survived for so long. I was not going to have that be taken away from me. So in the end I chose Rosewood, not knowing what I’d get myself into. They discussed the option of a dormitory since Rosewood also had a boarding section. Mom decided that it would be easy if I just came home at the end of the day. Which I was thankful for later on.

   Of course my mom told my step dad about what happened. I was expecting him to beat the shit out of me and to yell at me. But instead he asked me for my side of the story. Which was out of character for him but nevertheless I was happy to give my side of the story in hopes that maybe I would get punished less. I told him how Alan (and he knew about my bullies) how he grabbed my hair and called me a retard and smacked my head on my desk. So I retaliated and I punched him the face and then I jumped over my desk and I sat on top of him and I bitch slapped him and screamed at him to apologize. I used the excuse that it was self defense and also used the philosophy that he taught me. If you do something bad then expect the worst possible outcome. Which I delivered. He then asked me if I won the fight. To which I said that I thought so since I gave him a bloody nose and made him cry like the little bitch he was. My step dad nodded thoughtfully and stayed silent for a few minutes. I braced myself for whatever backlash I was about to receive. He then patted my head and told me he was proud of me. Now THAT was something I hadn’t heard in a long time. It felt good. I then told him that they expelled me and I had a choice between homeschooling and a place called Rosewood Preparatory School. I chose Rosewood. And that’s when he went back to his asshole self. He told me that Rosewood was a place to stuff severely mentally disturbed children that their parents wanted nothing to do with anymore. I’m talking about mentally disturbed kids that need to to be in an insane asylum and actually get professional help.that they so desperately needed. He told me that I wouldn’t survive there. I didn’t believe him at the time because I thought that he was fear mongering me like he normally does when he tries to get control over me. I thought he was trying to scare me into homeschooling so he could gain more control over me. So, using the other philosophy he taught me. I made my choice and I will stick by it through the bitter fucking consequences. I will go down with the ship. I still stuck to my guns and I was adamant about going to Rosewood. Anything to get away from him. 

       It was January 7th. It was after Christmas break and time to go back to school. For me it was my very first day at this Rosewood Prep. I wore my new school uniform which was a white long sleeve shirt and tan khakis with a black belt. I had a choice between the standard red and black plaid skirt and tan and black khakis for the girl’s uniforms. I didn’t and still don’t like girly things, there’s just so many prying prepubescent lemur boys out there you know? So I chose pants all the way. The one good thing about Rosewood is that they are more lenient about their school uniforms than most private preparatory schools. We could wear whatever hoodie/ sweatshirt we wanted over our uniform as long as we could prove that we had the standard white tee/ long sleeve shirt, red and black plaid skirt, tan or black khakis on. We could wear whatever socks and shoes that we wanted. It was nice to have some sort of independence and individualism in that place. I ended up walking to school since we lived closer to the downtown area than to Maplehood Creek Elementary School. So I didn’t meet the requirements for the school bus system. Nevertheless I was so ready for what little independence that I would get.Rosewood Prep is a big school. It was right across from The real estate office building called Camelson’s Realtors. Rosewood had a black wrought iron gate with an archway that stated the School’s name in cursive. Rosewood had a lot of property and it was covered in snow. Not even half of it was trampled on yet. The kids were spread out in various places. We had the younger kids k-3 playing in the snow together closer to the entrance, 4th and 5th graders were huddling together for warmth near the school doorways, 6-8 were all gossiping with each other on the left lawn and 9-12 graders were behind the school doing god knows what. The school itself was made out of bricks and was part of it was covered in ivy. It looked like one of those uppity schools that you read in books and see on tv where those schools are mysterious and hold deep, dark, sinister secrets.The main building was 7 stories high. One floor for the lobby, principal’s office, tech support, cafeteria, kitchen and gym was. That was the first floor when you got into the school. Basement level is underneath the entire school but you could only get to it through secret passageways throughout the school and on school property. Second floor was for the kindergartners with their own art and music rooms. Third floor was for the first grade, fourth floor was for second grade, fifth floor was for third grade, sixth floor was for fourth grade, and the seventh floor was for the fifth grade. The second building attached to the main one on the right had three stories. First floor was for sixth grade, the second floor was for seventh grade and the third floor was for eighth grade. There was a third building attached to the main one on the left that had four floors. First floor was for ninth grade, second floor was for tenth grade, third floor was for eleventh grade, and the fourth floor was for the twelfth grade. There was a building in the back that was like fifty feet from the school that I assumed was the boarding section. They also had three playgrounds in the back. They also had a sports shed with a neon orange roof over on the far right of the school. There were also a lot of spirits roaming about the school property, some staff members others were children as young as five- eighteen. 

   The school also had a brick interior and red and white tiles on the floor. My school day started like any other day. I had  breakfast, and I went to my main teacher’s room for the majority of my classes. Her name was Mrs. Lameire. Out of all my time at Rosewood She was the nicest teacher I ever had. The majority of teachers there were cruel and ruthless. Rich kids were always the favorites. Anyone with grades lower than a C, people that were too mentally disturbed to the point of causing disruptions in the class, people that were late to class for even a minute, and just because were met with cruel and unusual punishments. Kids were locked in the rundown gym bathrooms during their hallucinations. I remember hearing about this one girl in the boarding section getting locked in the sports shed in the damp cold being starved and forced to lick up the water that was given to her on the ground. All because the staff wasn’t feeding one of her friends so she stole some food before it was made in the kitchen to give to her. Thankfully her friend got to eat before she got caught. Turns out Mrs. Lameire was a rare one. Towards the end of fourth grade she actually got out of Rosewood and got a new teaching job at Greengrove High for the seniors in English. That’s not something a lot of teachers and unfortunately a lot of students could say. A decent handful of teachers were former students at Rosewood, K-12 and lived in the boarding section all their school life only to finally leave for college and get out of that wretched place only to come back and be stuck at Rosewood once more. Unfortunately a lot of the students would share the same fate. I feel bad for the younger kids who live at the school too. It’s all they’re going to know. We have this saying in Maplehood for the people of Rosewood with a darker meaning. “You may leave Rosewood but Rosewood will never leave you. After all, all paths will eventually lead back to Rosewood”…..

      It didn’t get interesting until after lunch. Just on my first day I witnessed seven fist fights, this was all at Lunch. At my old school a lot of kids would have gotten expelled that day. What I found strange was that these weren’t just school fights….these were…almost fights to the death. These were brutal. I saw one kid almost die because he got beaten into a bloody pulp. Luckily he turned tail and fled to the nurses office. I also found it weird that there were no teachers to pull the fighting kids apart. They either turned the other cheek, cheered them on or made bets on who would win under the table. It really was survival of the fittest here. The last fight of the day was heading towards me. I felt my arm being pulled out of the way and I was out of the direction of the fight. I looked next to me. There was a strange boy with short black hair and a darker tan complexion than me and brown eyes.

    “Thank you”, I said.

    “No problem”, said the strange boy who pulled me away.

    We stayed silent for what seemed like forever before the strange boy spoke again.

    “My name is Horacio Galloway”, said the strange boy finally introducing himself

    “Tabby Anderson”, I said slowly, suspicious of this kid.

    “I’ve never seen you before, you’re new here?”

   “This kid is trying to size me up. To see what he could get away with”, I said in thought before I actually spoke. “Yeah I am”

    He nodded thoughtfully for a minute before speaking, “You know you could use someone to show you the ropes here of how things work around here. You could use a friend”.

    I just looked at him and stared into his eyes for a long time. Although I was thankful for what he did and he was right I could use a friend. Two is always better than one. But….not him. He just made me uncomfortable. He just didn’t feel like a good person. He had this dark, cold, evil aura around him. I saw major red flags with this kid. I didn’t want any part of that. If I wanted a friend I would want one to be a real and loyal friend. Someone who is trustworthy and a good person in the bigger picture. He wasn’t it.

    This time my intuition was right.

    “No”, I said.

    He looked at me like he couldn’t believe what I said. He wasn’t used to someone telling him no. “I’m sorry…did you just say no?…”  he got menacing closer to me trying to corner me.

   “So he’s controlling and manipulative. Just as I suspected”, I said in thought as I was being backed up into the corner of a wall in the cafeteria.

   “Yeah that’s right. I said no”, I still stood my ground.

   “Are you sure you want to go down this road?”, he asked threateningly as he cornered me.

   I do one of two things when I’m scared I either lie my ass off or I attack and I’m hitting. I chose the second option. Obviously this kid isn’t capable of listening to reason. So maybe he’ll get it through a punch in the face to get him to back off. I dealt with this from my step dad, there’s absolutely no way I was going to put up with that bullshit from anyone else.

    “Yeah I’m sure” I  said and I decked him square in the face.

    He staggered back a little and he looked genuinely shocked that someone would dare to hit him. Apparently he wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him and not falling for his bullshit. He was angry and he charged at me full force to attack me back. I moved out of the way so her ran smack into the wall knocking himself backwards.Other kids laughed and ooohhhed at us. He didn’t like to be humiliated. Other kids ignored us and minded their own business. Some of the teachers smirked at us and looked on with amusement, waiting to see what would happen next. Other teachers just ignored us. Either way no one stepped in. He got back up and was really in a blind rage now. He tried to attack me once more. I remember what my step dad told me when getting into a fight. Use my opponent’s momentum to my advantage since i’m so small. Use every body part you can in a fight. Never let up. If you get knocked down, get back up as fast as you can. Use all of your body weight to pin someone down in a fight. Horatio charged at me and I turned to move out of the way and I grabbed his arm. I put my right leg behind his and pivoted so I could push him into the wall face first. I made him hit his head hard. I twisted his arm behind his back, kept my leg behind his and I used my entire body weight to keep him pinned against the wall.

    “Look, get this and get this now. I am not afraid of you. You can not manipulate me or control me. I’m not the one who can be broken or controlled. Understand?”

    After a few moments I let him go. He dropped to the floor and I backed away breathing heavily. It took all of my strength to do that. He got back up and he glared at me as he walked away. That was the first time I actually stood up for myself against someone who is just like my step dad. I may not have made him bleed and cry but at least I got him to turn tail and run away like the little bitch he is. For the first time in forever I actually felt surprisingly good about myself. I spent the rest of my day in a good mood.

    Until it became the end of the school day.

    I survived my first day at Rosewood.  I was getting my stuff and preparing to walk home. Until I caught sight of a ghost out of the corner of my eyes. It was a milky white mist. It was a little boy who looked deathly scared. He couldn’t have been no more than six. He had short blonde hair and glasses and was wearing the standard Rosewood uniform. A white long sleeved shirt, a black belt and tan khakis. He also looked like he was lost and confused….like he knew he was dead but he didn’t know what to do next. He made eye contact with me but you could tell that he wasn’t….all there…even before he died. The little ghost boy made eye contact with me. He then walked through the janitor’s closet that was like 10ft down the hall and disappeared. I tried to walk away but something inside of me told me to follow him. I’m not the one to ignore intuition but I knew that I wouldn’t like what I would see. I looked to make sure no one was looking and I followed.

   I went into the janitor’s closet and tried to quietly make my way through the cluttered mess of cleaning supplies. It was a quiet hallway so any unnecessary noise would have drawn attention to myself. I made my way to the back of the closet and there was a little doorway in the wall. It was slightly ajar, suggesting that it’s been used recently. I cautiously opened it up not really sure what to expect. The doorway led to a secret passageway that seemed to spiral down towards the basement level area. I head down the passageway with my bag in tote.

   I reached one of the entrances of the basement and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I stood frozen as my freeze response took over. I saw Horatio just standing there with a kid slumped over. The kid couldn’t be no more than six and strangely enough the kid looked like the little ghost boy that I saw not that long ago. Horatio made eye contact with me and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t fight him because I didn’t think there was anything worth fighting about since the damage has been done and fighting wouldn’t bring him back and I saw no reason to go along with the situation since there was nothing to go along with, so I did the only sensible thing I could do. I ran for it. I ran straight out of there.

   I kept running and I stopped and sat down outside Rosewood’s gates and I broke down. This is what Rosewood was. I just had my first taste of Rosewood. There was violence and torture everywhere. So many mentally unhinged kids that don’t belong in that setting. Adults who enabled or ignored everything that went on instead of doing their jobs as responsible adults to protect us. This sinister place really was the top of the top survival of the fittest. If I were to stay that means that I would have to fight two wars on two different fronts. I mean, I’ve been doing that anyways but Maplehood Creek Elementary school is VERY different from Rosewood Prep. Compared to Rosewood, Maplehood Creek Elementary was a fucking daycare center. My step dad was right…there was no way that I would survive Rosewood for long….there was no way that I could survive both Rosewood AND home….so I made my decision.

   I kept running and I stopped and sat down outside Rosewood’s gates and I broke down. This is what Rosewood was. I just had my first taste of Rosewood. There was violence and torture everywhere. So many mentally unhinged kids that don’t belong in that setting. Adults who enabled or ignored everything that went on instead of doing their jobs as responsible adults to protect us. This sinister place really was the top of the top survival of the fittest. If I were to stay that means that I would have to fight two wars on two different fronts. I mean, I’ve been doing that anyways but Maplehood Creek Elementary school is VERY different from Rosewood Prep. Compared to Rosewood, Maplehood Creek Elementary was a fucking daycare center. My step dad was right…there was no way that I would survive Rosewood for long….there was no way that I could survive both Rosewood AND home….so I made my decision.

   “Hey, are you okay?”, I heard a strange voice say that sounded like whomever it was was getting closer to me.

   I looked up with my red, tear stained face to see a strange, tall, lanky, ginger girl that would become my best friend, walking towards me. She was the prettiest person that I have ever seen. She had long beautiful auburn red, pale skin that had freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and she had stormy gray eyes which I later discovered that they fluctuate between stormy gray and emerald green. I coward in my spot in a defensive, protective position because I didn’t know what she would do to me. She was also in her Rosewood uniform. She was wearing a the white tee shirt and red and black plaid skirt with her red and white converse. What was she doing here after school? She sat down next to me.

   “ Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Autumn Lemmory.  I promise I’m not like the other students here at Rosewood. I saw you sitting here and crying so I wanted to see if you were okay”, she tilted her head to the right and she had a kind and concerned voice.

  Warily I uncurled myself and was sitting like a normal person. She was so nice, like she genuinely cared. That was something I haven’t seen or had in a long time.

  “ T-Tabby Anderson and n-no I’m not o-okay”, I said between sniffles and hiccups as that’s what happens when I cry for a long time.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”, the ginger girl asked softly.

   I just looked at her and I turned into a blubbering crying mess again. I wasn’t used to this level of concern and kindness. I told her about how I was new here and that it was my first day at Rosewood. I told her about what I saw what happened to the mentally ill kids who acted out in class, the fights I saw, how I met this boy Horatio Galloway and how he threaten me when I stood up to him, I beat him in a fight, and how I just saw Horatio tourture some poor six year old boy.

   She stayed silent and listened. She held me and petted my hair for comfort. She just nodded her head and she didn’t judge me like I thought she would. In fact she didn’t even look surprised as if it was an everyday occurrence. To which I cried even more because I haven’t had this much kindness, level of concern, comfort, and affection in a long time.

   “I’m sorry you had to see that on your first day, It can be a lot for someone who isn’t used to it. But you get desensitized quick the longer you stay here. That type of stuff happens extremely often here unfortunately. There’s always someone dying here at Rosewood whether its a teacher or student”, said Autumn sadly.

   As much as I was enjoying the affection I had to pull away before I made it more awkward for the both of us.

  “You said all of that like you’ve been here for a long time. How long have you been here?”, I asked

  “A year now. I came here in the third grade”, she sighed exasperated.

  “You know and hate Horatio too?”, I asked.

  “Everyone who goes to Rosewood knows who he is. He is the richest, problematic, evil, and popular kid in school. He’s scarily smart too. Everyone hates him but they’re too scared to say or do anything about it since he can easily ruin their lives outside of Rosewood or make their lives a living hell. I’m honestly surprised that you met him on your first day. He must have taken an interest in you and you had the guts to stand up to him, fight him, and actually won”, Autumn said amazed.

  “Yeah I did. In case you haven’t noticed I’m not like other people”, I said

   Autumn laughed and it was a beautiful sound like all of my pain and troubles melted away immediately for a short time.

     “I can see that”

     She then took a good look at me, and stood up.

    “I can tell that you’re a good person and you look like you can use a friend. In fact your chances of survival would greatly increase if you had one or two people in your corner at all times. Especially if you’re dealing with Horatio and since you actually won against Horatio for now he’s especially going to have it out for you all the time. But don’t worry, he really is a coward and won’t bother you too often if you’re with a group of people. So I want you to promise me something”.

    “Hm?”

   “Promise me that you’ll come back here tomorrow and find me. I have a few people that I’d like you to meet. I’d think you’d like them and they would like you. Now come on it’s not good to be here for longer than necessary. I’ll walk you home”, she said as she gave me the exact same sweetest, kindest smile that she gave me earlier and she held out her hand as an offer to help me up.

   I gave her a good long look. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t plan on even being alive come tomorrow. However, she showed me kindness, compassion, and understanding. That’s something I haven’t had in a long time. She was the only one at first to stand by me and not against me. She actually wanted to be my friend willingly. She wanted to help and that damn smile though. It was that smile that gave me hope and suddenly I didn’t want to die as much anymore.

   “I will. I promise”, I said as I gave a small smile and I took her hand and we walked home together and for the first time in forever I had hope and something to look forward to tomorrow.

  And I always keep my promises.

  The next day I met the first people that would become the only form of a family that I have. There were four other people. Heath Yazheimer, Mitchel Brooks, Donnie SanMaria, and Rebecca Bea. Mitchel and Rebecca were the rich kids and Heath, Donnie, Autumn and I were the poor kids. I was the youngest in the group at first but I quickly became the ring leader. I mean someone had to keep their dumbasses in line. Then I became the second youngest as my family grew and by seventh grade I had my entire family. They really were the best of me.

    After a year of Rosewood my parents got tired of my telling them about the awful shit that kept happening. They didn’t believe me and they said that I was lying and being paranoid. Of course I got punished by my step dad for telling the truth. My mom however was concerned about how often they deemed that I was making this shit up. So my mom scrambled to get enough money and pay for my first psychiatrist that I had. I was ten.

  His name was Dr. Kutz. He worked at a place downtown that was red and beige called Where the Wind Blows. There were two psychiatrists that worked there. Him and a woman called Dr. Gina. Dr. Kutz worked upstairs and Dr. Gina worked downstairs.

  But anyways back to Dr. Kutz. I can honestly say that he was one of the few therapists that I actually liked. I hate therapists and Doctors in general because they can’t do their damn jobs right and do diagnoses correctly. It took seven years to get the diagnoses I have now. But anyways. He was kind, taught me how to play chess and he got the diagnoses right the first time. I was diagnosed with anxiety and paranoia which was understandable considering the shit that went on at home and Rosewood. He put me on medication for my anxiety and paranoia but I gradually stopped taking them because they made me too mellow and my mind was always fuzzy. That’s not good for surviving Rosewood where you have to be constantly alert and ready to fight at any time. I told him everything that happened at Rosewood and I can tell that he didn’t believe me and he was just listening to humor me. Still it was nice to have someone who actually listens to you for once. I told him what went on at home but I told him not to do anything about the abuse because that would affect Adam in the long run and he’s already a bright and good boy. Even at one. Everyone needs a dad. Mom wouldn’t be able to take care of him with how much she works so that would leave me to take care of him. I could barely take care of myself as it was and I was so unfit to be a mother. Although Dr. Kutz didn’t like my decision, he respected it.

   The reason why I stopped seeing him was because my mom and step dad deemed that I wasn’t getting anywhere on my so-called “issues” that my mom and step dad deemed that I had. So we moved on to therapist number two, Dr. Gina. I was eleven.

  We still went to the same place where Dr. Kutz was only staying downstairs. I didn’t like her at all. She just seemed too fake to me. She didn’t care about what I had to say and she just wanted a paycheck. She also did countless misdiagnoses. ADD, ADHD, ODD, which I didn’t have either. I have been on and off so many medications for these misdiagnoses that I didn’t need. I even developed a twitch in my left eye because of the medications that I didn’t need. It only flares up when my anxiety is sky high.

  The only “good” thing she did was call the CPS when she found out that I was getting abused by my step dad after she grilled me on it and I fucking cracked under preassure and after I begged her not to. She said that she was a mandatory reporter and that she had to.

   That didn’t go over too well for me. Unfortunately they found no substantial evidence. My step dad used the fact that I did get into a lot of fights at school which was true. I always came home with more bruises and scars and I went in with more. Eventually they dropped the case and left. He was still there. I felt bad because it was Adam’s first birthday too. So I caught hell for that and for the fact that I tried to rat him out. So not only did I get a whole lot of beatings but also sleep deprivation and corporal punishment. Those two got added on as extra punishment that year and that became a standard punishment. Lack of sleep and a brutal exercise regime with very little to no water breaks and I wasn’t even fed for that week. So yeah.

   Another incident like that happened while I was changing for gym class at Rosewood. Where the gym teacher saw a big ass bruise on the side of my rib cage and she called CPS again. And I got the SAME punishment.

  However, everything evened out eventually. I got a handle on life at Rosewood. I got good at switching on and off battles. I was established as a straight A student and I was gradually becoming a good fighter. I had my friends to help me through and we protected each other and took on shit for each other. Autumn and I had this spot at Rosewood. It was in the beginning of the woods. It was a small clearing that was well hidden so no one else at Rosewood bothered us and it wasn’t too deep in the woods where we could get lost either. It was perfect and if anything were to happen the boarding section was fifty feet from us since our spot was behind the boarding section. So we could have easily run there. We would stay after school for like 20 minutes or a couple of hours. Whatever I could swing for the day. She would patch up my scars and bruises after school when I got into a fight or after I got a beating from my step dad the next day. After that we would just talk and hang out. It was our way of taking a breather. I could really be myself around her. She basically became my human diary. We were close.

  We also had 4 others join our family too in those 3 years. Emmy Leonard, Emma Quelle, Ghavin Ramirez, and Laura Plummon. My friends made my life more bearable. They and Adam were my main motivation for living. I thought everything would become more manageable.

  Little did I know how fucked up everything would become.

   I just turned twelve. It was two months after I turned twelve. It was August 22 to be exact. I was getting ready to head into seventh grade. It was one of the hottest days of summer yet. I-I don’t remember exactly what I did to piss off my step dad so bad. I do remember however, going three days of no sleep when my insomnia wore off after two weeks and the brutal corporeal regiment that he had me on. I guess on the third day he finally took some form of pity on me and he had me do jumping jacks. That doesn’t sound bad right?

  Well since they were the easiest things out there to do he commanded me to do more and go faster. We had this downstairs neighbor. She wasn’t a good person. She was loud, obnoxious, and sold drugs. We lived in that type of neighborhood and refused to take care of the two kids she had. A boy and a girl no more than 6 and 9. We lived in an old apartment so the floors and walls were pretty thin. The woman yelled at us through the floor. “Hey could you keep it down? You’re being too loud!”.

  That was my step dad’s breaking point. He was already pissed with me as it is and the neighbor made it worse. He snapped his head up and I saw something snap inside of him. I was used to his anger but this was….different. it was this cold, unrestrained, unrelenting, calculating, suffocating, darker anger. And suddenly on that hot summer day the room was freezing cold. I never felt more scared in my life.

   My step dad ran into the kitchen. I followed him frantically repeating the question of what are you doing? He grabbed a regular kitchen knife from the knife holder we had. He told me to wait here and to stay put.

   I was afraid at this stage when I was 12. Not knowing what he’d do to me in that state if i dared disobeyed and I wasn’t going to test that. I did as I was told. It was deathly quiet. 5 minutes has passed, 10, 20, 30, 45, an hour, two hours has passed at this point and I began to feel nervous because if he did kill her it shouldn’t take 2 full hours to do so. Where was he? What if something happened to him? What if he’s the one who got killed? How would I explain that to the police? My mother? My little brother? I couldn’t. So against what I was told and my Intuition I went downstairs to where the first apartment was. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Honestly I should have just stayed where I was.

  I stood in the doorway as the freeze instinct took over. I wasn’t exactly sure whether or not I should have ran, fought him or gone along with the situation. I remember feeling too much in shock to feel anything at the time. I saw the dead corpse all bloodied and mutilated and beginning to rot with how hot it was. I knew death happened to everybody and I was quite familiar with it at Rosewood. There was always someone dying there every week. But it’s a whole other thing when you see death first hand for the first time.

  My step dad was just standing there staring at the body as if he can’t believe what he had done. He and his knife were covered in blood. He eventually noticed me standing at the doorway and ordered me to help clean up the evidence. I couldn’t run otherwise I would have died that day too. I couldn’t fight him in that state, I wasn’t strong or smart enough to. So I went along with the situation and helped clean up the best I could.

  Later on that night when my mom and little brother got home and went to sleep. My step dad and I went back downstairs and put the dead body in my mother’s trunk and my step dad drove us off to Fairfield Park. All the way back by the willow tree where the dirt was fresh and no one would see us. He ordered me to dig the grave for the woman while he supervised. I dug and dug. I came out of shock slightly but that’s because my anxiety and paranoia were sky high about being caught and I could’ve sworn that I felt something watching me from the woods surrounding Fairfield. But my step dad just told me to ignore it, say it was just my paranoia, and reassuring me that we wouldn’t get caught. I believed him at the time.

  The reason why I went with the situation and everything that he’s put me through over the years was because I thought that if I showed that I was loyal and still stuck by him then it would show that I was worthy of being his friend again and he would stop. That year I just wanted everything to stop. Horatio, Rosewood, the abuse I recieved from my step dad, everything. But nothing ever stopped. I knew that there was no going back to any form of normal after what we did but I thought that this would prove my loyalty to him once and for all and he would just stop. I was wrong.

   The next two days after the incident I finally came to with the full realization of what I did. I took the two kid’s mother away from them. Sure they were spoiled brats and just rotten kids in general but that was still their mother. They had every right to a mother and me and my step dad took that away from them in the most brutal way possible. That wasn’t fair to the kids. I began to cry and my step dad called me a pathetic bitch and that I shouldn’t feel sorry because I made the Choice to help him. Which makes me just as much of a murderer as he is. I’m just as guilty. He also threatened to kill me, my mom, my little brother Adam, and all of my friends if I ever dared told anyone about what we did. And he would find out. After witnessing what he did that night I wasn’t going to take that bluff. So I suffered in silence and haven’t told a soul about what I did to this day.

  Twelve was the worst year ever for me. I’m not saying that to be cliche and over dramatic. Seventh grade was a real dark time for me and I have legitimate reasons for that. I still had that murder event fresh in my head so I was a little more broken after that. I became more of a broken quiet after that. I was so happy to see my friends again. At least I had them and they were still alive. At least I had a home, love, kindness, acceptance, and understanding with them. My therapist, Michelle didn’t even know about that event and she wasn’t going to. If I told her she would tell and send Adam and I into foster care and be separated. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if that meant that I had to suffer.

   But, I couldn’t tell them what happened to me that summer. I wasn’t going to put them in harm’s way because I desperately needed someone to talk to about what happened. They didn’t deserve the wrath of my step dad. No one else should have to suffer what I suffered. I didn’t want to get them killed because of my selfishness. That wouldn’t be fair to them after all they’ve done for me. Not only that but what if I did tell them? Then what? Would they deem me as a monster and a bad person like my step dad did? Would they still want anything to do with me? What if they left me and abandoned me? What would their reactions be? Would they be afraid of me? What if they no longer loved and accepted me for who I was? I couldn’t risk the one good thing I had going for me. I couldn’t have my family taken away for me. I could not be alone again. Everyone knew something was wrong with me and tried talking to me about it. There was no way I could tell them. I never even told Autumn about it and she was my best friend/ older sister. She was my other half. My human diary. We told each other just about everything and anything. That’s saying a lot. Nevertheless I still stayed silent about it.

  I guess I pushed them away for a while because we grew a little distant from each other after that. We all had something that we weren’t telling each other. One by one they all left. I had no idea what happened to them at first. I later found out that they went to various mental hospitals around Maplehood and in a couple of towns over. I didn’t know at the time. I thought they all left me for no reason, or worse Horatio got to them and killed them or they died by other means! So I was left to battle Rosewood and Horatio myself.

  Home wasn’t any better either. My mom and step dad were arguing and yelling constantly. Yet despite that he never once raised a finger to her. It was just me that he hit. The arguments were always all about me about what to do with me. You can imagine the amount of added stress I was under. What if they argued so much that they broke up and he would leave? Then that means I would be responsible for taking care of Adam. I’m not a good influence and I’m an awful person. I’m not fit to be a mother and I don’t want to be the one responsible for his downfall if he goes down that way. Adam was beginning to act out too and he was getting into trouble at daycare and at home. It seemed as though I was losing control of every aspect of my life.

  So with constant battles at school and at home and no friends/family. I became vindictive, hateful, and reckless. I let my grades slip because I didn’t care at the time. Life was meaningless to be and I honestly thought that I would not survive that year with how reckless I was. Which resulted in some cruel and unusual punishments from the teachers. Mainly I was just locked up in isolation. Not so bad. I knew other kids who had it worse than I did. I also got into a lot of fights that year too. But that was because I went against my own rules about fights. I never start fights, I only finish them. Except that year I went out of my way to start and get into fights and I won most of them. I was brutal and violent. Instead of following Rosewood’s weird fight code about only fighting until one or both opponents are knocked out I would fight until they were knocked out and then just continue to pound into them until they were almost a bloody pulp. I could never bring myself to kill them. I just didn’t have it in me to do so. Even Horatio, who would go out of his way to start shit with me, only started shit twice and then he knew better and stayed the fuck away from me that year. I even learned how to knife fight that year.

  I remember my most reckless night. It was the one that finally made me snap out of it. It was April. My mom was out of town, she was with my uncle Max in Indiana to try to help him get custody of his kid because his ex wife is a money hungry and power hungry hoe. He wanted me to go over to his house every night and check up on his cats. That was my job, he gave me the keys and everything. So it was just my step dad, Adam and I. It was one of those nights where he forced me to stay up late. After a long and violent argument I told him exactly how I felt.

  “YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE AMOUNT OF PAIN AND FEAR THAT I LIVE UNDER ON TOP OF ROSEWOOD. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO FIGHT TO SURVIVE AND WAITING EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY HOPING THAT YOU’D DIE!!!”, I yelled not caring who heard or what he’d do next.

  He just looked at me in a mixture of shock and amusement. I just gave him the most pissed off and hateful look up to date, breathing heavily.

 “Is that what you want now is it?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow and had his hands on his hips.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I made direct eye contact with him and stood in a position that said I was standing my ground.

  He nodded and quietly made his way over to where we keep our knives. Mom bought new knives not that long ago so they were still relatively sharp. He took a regular sized kitchen knife and put it into my hand. He went back to where he was standing. I looked at the knife and then back at him.

  “Take your shot”, he stated simply as he held out his arms.

  I just stared at him like he was crazy and in fear. There was no way he was serious. He was testing me. There was no way I could carry out his murder. How would I explain it to the cops? How would I explain it to my mom? How would I explain it to Adam? That I took away his father because I was selfish enough to do so. He would hate me forever. I didn’t want that. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I did carry out his murder.

  Still what if? I mean he was wide open. Fair game. Would I let this opportunity pass me by? It would be sweet revenge for me with all the shit he did to me. A few good stabs in the right vital places and half of my problems would be gone. I could finally start healing a little.

  I turned the knife into the right position as I would with a fight and I took two steps forward. That was the end of that for me. I never saw him move so quick. The next thing I knew the knife was out of my hands and I was on the floor with him on top of me banging my head on the floor and choking me. Along with a few blows to my body.

  “YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH!!! DID YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH KILLING ME?! ME?! IF YOU TRY ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN!!! I WILL KILL YOU AND I’LL MAKE SURE THAT THEY’LL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY!!!”, he screamed at me.

  He then let me go and I coughed as I tried to catch my breath and rolled over to my side and sat up. I was in a bit of a daze from the blows to the head. He then dropped Uncle Max’s keys into my lap.

  “Hurry up and get over to his house to check up on the cats. After that you can go to bed as soon as you get home. You have school in the morning and I don’t want to deal with your ass anymore tonight”.

  I whimpered in response as my whole body hurt and screamed at me to stop moving. I got up and staggered towards the door, closing it behind me.

  Uncle Max lived North of Maplehood Creek where the upper middle class generally resigned. It was an hour walk to his house and as you kept walking the road became more isolated, wide and winding and houses became less and less frequent. There were woods surrounding either side of the road. He lived on Applewood Drive because there was an apple orchard near his house. So picture this, it’s about two in the morning. You see a beaten, bloody, bruised, and scrawny twelve year old girl staggering around by herself with nothing to arm herself with. To me that just screams for trouble. So, potentially I could have been murdered, no one would be able to hear my screams and my body would probably be never found. Sounds fun right?

  I don’t know why, of all nights a piece of information that I’ve long forgotten about came back to me. I once heard long ago back in fifth grade from a couple of seniors. There were short cuts all over in the woods that helped you get from one town to another without walking for so long and what a coincidence one of the shortcuts started where I was and it would lead me close to Uncle Max’s house. All I had to do was head into the woods on my left side and pay attention to the beaten path I would be on since it was dark out. I really thought about it. It would almost be suicide going into the woods, by myself, at night, close to two in the morning, un armed and I wasn’t in the best physical condition to fight in case something were to happen. That’s how you die in the horror movies, it was common sense. However, all I really wanted was some form of sleep and at that point in my life my sense of nihilism was so great I honestly did not care if I died or not. So, I did the most reckless thing I could do. I abandoned all fuking common sense and I ran into the woods.

  I don’t know what came over me…I guess it was just a mixture of everything. Hiding my first body, losing my friends, Horatio being relentless and ruthless, my parents arguing, the abuse getting worse, seeing my entire life that I knew falling apart right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it. My hatred, anger, lack of coping, confusion, lost, sadness, fear, and hurt were all too much to bear. I just broke down and started sobbing grossly and uncontrollably and I started running. I guess I was making an attempt to run away from my problems. I was just so pissed off and overwhelmed I just started punching every tree I could that was in my path.

  “I LOST EVERYTHING!!! I HAVE NOTHING LEFT!!!”

  “THE ONLY FORM OF A FAMILY I HAD!!! THEY ALL LEFT”

  “MY HOME LIFE FUCKING SUCKS IM TIRED OF LIVING WITH THE FEAR AND ABUSE AND THE CHAOS!!! I JUST WANT EVERYTHING TO STOP!!!”

  “I. HATE. ROSEWOOD. I’M TIRED OF FIGHTING TO SURVIVE I JUST WANT OUT”

  “I JUST WANT TO FUCKING DIE OR HAVE A RESET, REDUE, SECOND CHANCE PLEASE!”

  “SOMEONE TAKE ME AWAY! OR GIVE ME A SIGN…ANYTHING?! COME OUT AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN COWARDS!”

  “….help”

  I said finally as I slid down a tree with my bloody knuckles and I pulled up my knees to my chest and I just finished crying. Eventually I ran out of tears and I continued on with my journey and I finally did what I was supposed to, got back home and I got at least one hour of sleep before I had to get up for school. Thankfully nothing bad happened and I honestly didn’t know what I would have done if something did happen.

  The beginning of my twelve year old year was really fucking rough and brutal. I’ve tried so many suicide attempts that I’ve lost count. In fact most of my scars are from self harm. The reason why I’m still alive is because if you actively try to commit suicide statistically speaking there’s an 85% chance that you won’t succeed so there’s that. Towards the end of my twelve year old year got so much better. I eventually came to the realization that I could control my grades again. I thought that if I could just distract myself long enough and get my grades back up to my usual straight A student status then everything else would fall back into place eventually. And it did. I buried myself in my school work to bring up my grades and to even get back ahead, my step dad bothered me a little less since I was focusing on school, my parents stopped arguing for the most part, Adam was back on the right path again and my friends came back to me one by one.  We even had five new additions to our family. Morgan Tatiano, Julie Bostons, Jewel Ingles, CJ Vargos, and last but not least Shawn Bishop. After that my family was pretty set in stone.

  Hell I even met my step dad’s oldest son from a previous relationship before he met my mom. His name was Michael Timothy Mulleney III. He was three years older than I was. So he was fifteen at the time. I was really happy because it was on my bucket list to meet at least one of his other kids and it was so cool to meet him. Over time however, he proved to be just like his dad. He would join in when my step dad picked on me. He was a delinquent to say the least. He was already in so much debt and over the last five years he’s had so many petty charges against him, continues to do stupid shit, miss too many court dates, violating probation rules twice, and had a warrant in a different county. He eventually got himself into prison for three years when I was seventeen.

  Adam knew about it right away because I told him since no one else was going to. My parents were furious with what I did. I’m sorry but I don’t believe in withholding information. I think it is unnecessarily cruel to deny someone knowledge when they ask for it. Besides he was going to find out sooner or later. They couldn’t keep it from him forever. I’d much rather have him know sooner than later. Despite Michael being just like his dad there were times where all of us were like actual siblings and I really do miss him overall.

  Thirteen was a really great year for me. Probably one of the few years that I would actively choose to go back to. I had a really great therapist named Heidi and on thursdays we did horse therapy since she owned a ranch too, which was always fun. I was also diagnosed with OCD with my cleaning because I discovered that as long as I was being productive he ignored me when he was angry for the most part. Which resulted in less beatings. As soon as he got angry or came out of his room I began cleaning and I did it quickly, quietly and efficiently. My method worked half of the time. It just became obsessive and compulsive. Now it’s just routine. I was also diagnosed with Insomnia when I told her about my sleep schedule or lack thereof and she finally made the doctors do something about it and prescribe me medication. I stopped taking the medication since it wasn’t working anyways and my step dad kept fucking around with what sleep schedule I was trying to establish by keeping me up for days on end when I didn’t have to and my insomnia wasn’t used to my advantage. I figured if I went this long managing it without medication I could do it some more and it would be easier to do so.

  I came up with a lot of good realizations at thirteen. One being who cares what other people say and think about me. As long as I know the truth about myself that’s all that matters. Another one being is that life is not guaranteed especially in my case with life at Rosewood and at home. It’s so tiring to be hateful all the time and I was already tired as it was from lack of sleep, insomnia, and narcolepsy. I had to save my energy for fights at Rosewood and at home to ensure my own survival and the survival of others. Besides was that the way I really wanted to go out when my time comes? No. The only thing I ask for when my death comes is for it to be quick and painless. That’s it. My favorite thing that I learned was to say fuck it. Life is too short and if I was going to get punished for no reason I might as well go all out, go big or go home and have fun while I can. If I’m going to get punished then at least I got something out of it. I learned to live a little and sneak out.

  It was so fun. Slightly dangerous because there’s at least two kids wandering around on the back roads at night at ungodly hours but it was still fun. At least Autumn and I would plan at lunch to sneak out later on at night. Other members of our gang were welcome to join but oftentimes none of them would remember to sneak out of their houses at the established times. So it was almost always just Autumn and I. That’s how I became more stealthy because of sneaking out constantly. Autumn showed me how to use the back roads so I’m now able to get all over town without being seen for the most part. We would just walk and talk about anything and everything, we would joke around and have fun. I felt so free when we snuck out at night and when I was with her. We could just be ourselves and be teenagers for once. We could be happy, and just forget everything for a while. We didn’t have to worry about surviving the next day, home, Rosewood, Horatio. ect…It was nice to be free for a couple of hours. The best part was that it pissed off my step dad so much because he knew I snuck out but he has absolutely no proof that I have been. It’s fun watching him struggle to justify my punishments.

  The best part about sneaking out was always on New Years Eve. That was the only time the entire gang made it a point to sneak out all together. We had this spot in the woods that was abandoned but it was safe since I trusted them and Autumn. Either Autumn or I would bring some form of booze since both of our families had at least one bottle of liquor around. We would pass the booze to each other and sing along to songs we knew and we would just celebrate another year of surviving Rosewood, we were all alive and in one piece and we all still had each other. That was good enough for us. This was our tradition from 13-16.

  Fourteen, fifteen and sixteen were pretty much smooth sailing more or less. Everything plateaued out. At fourteen I had Dr. Rachel and she had the doctors diagnosed me with narcolepsy once Dr. Rachel discovered that my sleeping habits were more than just insomnia. I was prescribed medication for that too but I stopped taking that as well because it wasn’t working. Fifteen I was diagnosed with non verbal learning disorder. Which means I can’t pick up on social cues very well. This was by Dr. Collins, she was okay I guess. Sixteen I had Dr. Baxter but he wasn’t much use because I felt as though I didn’t have any major issues to talk about aside from the ones I grew up with but I learned better coping mechanisms and my issues and my issues were more manageable. There was nothing else to talk about and he seemed very annoyed by that.

  I Even got a job at a restaurant called This or That. It was a typical family style restaurant and I worked in the back of the kitchen from fourteen through a quarter of the way through seventeen. I started to put aside money for Adam in a bank account so that way when he is old enough he has a lump sum of money that’s all his. Hopefully he uses to get the fuck out of Maplehood. I even started to put aside money for myself so I can buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out of Maplehood myself and start a whole new life when I was old enough.

  Of course the abuse continued and so did my fighting, survivalist life at Rosewood but I had my friends or more like my family to help me through it. We all helped each other. They were my main motivation for living besides Adam. Honestly if I never had met them I’d probably be dead or a more vicious and violent person than what I am if my step dad had his way. They taught me what family, kindness, compassion, love, home, and acceptance was. I wouldn’t have known what that was if I never met them. I can never repay them for what they did I owe them everything. Including my life and I knew they would do the same for me.

   I just never knew that that would be put to actual use one day.

  It was September 28.It…was homecoming day. The days following homecoming was spirit week. One of the only times where Rosewood was actually a normal school. Friday was Rosewood pride. Where we celebrate Rosewood and the sports teams. Hell it was one of the rare times I actually wore the skirt part of the uniform. At the end of the day we would have the pep rally with all these competitions. It was actually quite fun. Later on that night Rosewood would have it’s own homecoming show and a dance with a theme to match. At Rosewood homecoming is a different theme every year. This year was carnival themed. Which I didn’t like as it is because I have a severe distrust of clowns. Too many horror movies growing up you know? On top of the fact I wasn’t exactly big on school functions, especially at that school. The only reason why I went was because my friends were going with the thought process of “fuck it, it’s our last year here or at least some of us only had a year to go and the least we can do is go to this one and only homecoming and celebrate one last hurrah together” I had the same thought process too. Not only that but since it was basically our last year there it was more important to me than ever to keep them alive since I knew damn well that Horatio would be there being up to god knows what. I was not going to lose them.

  The only thing was that I would have to convince my mom and step dad to let me go. That was the hard part. I got up the courage to call my mom knowing that she would be home since it was her day off and my step dad would be home as well like he always is. I asked her if I could go to homecoming. That resulted in a huge ass argument between my mom and step dad.

  “She’s a bad influence especially if she’s with those heathens she calls her friends!”, he yelled

  I physically cringed.

  “She’s seventeen now. She’s gone through her entire life having very little to no social interactions. She’s never been to at least one school function before and she’s a senior now, this is her last year there I’m sure that we can spare her this one event”, my mom argued back.

  “You know she’s incapable of making good decisions! How can we be so sure that she won’t get into one of those fights that she always gets into or worse she may end up accidentally killing someone!”

  “She’s a human! She’s troubled but she’s not a monster or demon child that you make her out to be! And besides, her therapist says that she needs more social interaction. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to get some socialization in a controlled environment and if it makes you feel any better my mother is supposed to come by today and visit. You could stay here with Adam and my mother and I will go with her to supervise. Does that sound fair to you?”, she asked.

  Wonderful, they were treating me like a freak experiment. I could hear my step dad huff and storm away on the other side of the phone.

  “Tabby”, my mother said in a sing song voice that really pissed me off, “does that sound fair to you?”

  “Yeah mom”

  “Good we’ll see you when?”

  “At six”

  The show was from six to eight and the dance was from eight to ten.

  “Okay good we’ll see then. I love you”

  “Love you too mom, bye”

  I hung up the phone and let out a sigh of relief and that’s when all of my friends came up to me.

  “So, what did they say?”, prodded Emmy.

  “Well after a long argument about letting me go and how much of a bad person that I am and that I’m incapable of making good decisions. My mom decided to let me go with the condition that she and my grandmother would come to supervise”, I said as I rolled my eyes.

  “At least you’re able to go”, pointed out Heath.

  “Yeah that’s true I really can’t complain. I’m just afraid that since Horatio will be there, I have no idea what he could be planning to do. I mean who knows how he acts at school functions”, I stated.

  “Relax Tabby cat. We’ll be right there beside you if anything happens. We won’t let each other out of our sight. We got your back just like you got ours”, grinned Autumn.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. They really were the best.

  “Thanks guys”

  “No problem”, said Autumn, “look we’re going home to get changed into something that’s not Rosewood. We’ll be back”, said Autumn.

  “Okay I’ll see you later”

  “You don’t want to at least go home and change out of that uniform? I know how much you hate skirts and all”, said Autumn confused.

  “Autumn, I never want to go home, you know this. I’d rather put up with slight discomfort, beats going home any day. Besides someone has to stay here and keep an eye on Horatio to make sure that he doesn’t try anything”.

 "Okay well do you at least want me to bring you some clothes to change into so you can get out of that skirt at least?“, she asked.

 "Nah I’m good besides I don’t want to throw my mom and grandmother into a conniption fit if they see me dressed in clothes that’s not mine or my Rosewood uniform”, I laughed.

  Autumn laughed too.

 "Fair enough. I’ll see you later"

 "See ya"

  Autumn left to go catch up with the rest of the gang while I went outside and sat on the curb to wait for my mom and grandma and my friends to show up.

  I saw Horacio showing back up and was standing at the entrance dressed as the ringleader handing out pink candies that were laced with LSD (we didn’t know it was laced at the time) to the staff. He claimed that they were homemade and he offered me a piece since I was just sitting there a few feet from him. Everyone who goes to Rosewood should know that it is common knowledge that you do not take anything that Horacio gives you. Whatever it maybe. I didn’t take the candy because I knew better. I was too smart for his bullshit but not smart enough.

  By five o clock everyone started showing back up and they all took one or two pieces of candy that he was giving out. I tried to warn everyone but they wouldn’t listen to me. It made my blood boil knowing that he was giving me an arrogant smirk and there was nothing I could do about it. It was getting late and there were still no signs of my friends. Maybe they were running late. Or, maybe I was too busy fighting with Horatio that I didn’t see them come in. Still I couldn’t shake off the growing anxiety and dread that was creeping over me.

  At 5:45 my mother and grandmother showed up. I tried to keep them away from Horatio but he was too slick and sickly sweet it made your stomach hurt at how he talked to them. They both seemed pleased and then they looked at me like I was the crazy one that had a problem with him. They took a piece of candy after I warned them not to but they didn’t listen to me either. It seemed as if I was the only one who didn’t take the candy. It was me against them.

  We were led to the left side of the building where the high school section was. There was a makeshift stage and chairs all lined up neatly. I still couldn’t find my friend group anywhere. But I knew that they were here so I didn’t worry about it too much and I’ll find them later. They had to be here. They promised that they would and that they would have my back. More importantly I promised that I would have their backs and we don’t break promises. So I got to the seats and watched the show which was quite boring since I wasn’t hallucinating from the candy. But the last act though. It was outside. I saw all my friends lined up on the rooftop of the school and it’s a fucking tall building. While everyone was thinking that they were doing some acrobatic tricks I watched them jump to their deaths one by one….I was screaming and crying begging someone to help but all ignored me and I couldn’t shout because they were too far up to hear me and I couldn’t break into the school either. i couldn’t do anything. later on the LSD wore off and they were mortified to find the 14 dead bodies. all confused on how it happened. So they deemed it the Rosewood Massacre.

  After the show was over I confronted Horacio about what he did. I attacked him to strangle him. My goal was to kill him. but the problem was that we’re too evenly matched with each other. in strength and intelligence so it turned out to be a fist fight. we did a good amount of damage to each other. until he caught one of my punches and shoved my fist through a closed window shattering the window and every bone in my hand. i had to get the glass surgically removed as it was deep in the tissue so I can’t feel a thing in my hand anymore and they had to set my hand for the broken bones to heal. But since doctors refused to do their jobs correctly they set it wrong so it healed wrong and now my hand is paralyzed.

  My mom let me stay home for the month to let my hand heal and to work through the trauma of what happened at Rosewood. She would bring my school work home to me. Even my step dad was slightly nicer to me. I guess he even took some form of pity on me.

  My therapist at the Dr. Consworth wanted me to talk about what happened. She only knew the story that the news put out there. But she doesn’t know the real story of what happened and there’s no way she was going to. She wouldn’t have believed me to begin with and she could never understand the pain I was going through. She did manage however to diagnose me with PTSD so there’s that I guess.

  What really made me lose my shit was when my step dad told me to get over it and that I shouldn’t be hurting because it was my fault that they died in the first place. His logic was that if I never showed up then they wouldn’t have died. After all bad shit seems to always happen around me is his belief. I had enough at this point and I stood up and yelled.

  “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! YOU THINK THAT WAS ALL MY FAULT?! MINE?! I DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG BUT TRIED TO WARN EVERYONE! I HAD NO IDEA THAT HE WOULD DO THAT?! THIS WAS ALL HORATIO’S FAULT! IT’S BEEN HIS FAULT FOR THE LAST EIGHT YEARS! I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT PROTECTED, SAVED, LOVE AND CARE FOR MY FRIENDS AND THEY DID THE SAME FOR ME! THEY WERE MORE OF A FAMILY THAN YOU AND MOM WILL EVER BE! AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT I SHOULD JUST GET OVER IT?!”, I finished as I was breathing heavily.

  He just stared at me in shock. I was so pissed I knew that I would get hurt if I stayed any longer. I knew an outburst like that would result in a beating but I just didn’t care. I lost everything, my sense of home, happiness and the ones I considered family what’s losing my life too?

  “YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU!”, I screamed and I stormed out and slammed the door behind me.

  I was really in for it now but to tell you guys the truth I honestly didn’t care and I would deal with it when I get back home. Right now I just had to get away and I had some business to take care of. I knew exactly where to go.

  I stopped at Maplehood Creek Cemetery and looked for the Rosewood Massacre section since I heard they created a section for the victims in an attempt to honor them. Rumor turned out to be true as I saw twenty five graves with fourteen all lined in a row which were unmistakingly my friends.

  I sat down to have a talk with them.

 "Hey guys it’s me Tabby. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you guys sooner I could only do it now", I said tiredly.

  I was upset and pissed that they lied to me and broke their promise. But at the same time they never did not once. So maybe they had a good reason to. Maybe Horatio tricked them or something. I don’t know and I guess I never will. They were my family, they did what no one else wanted to do. I owe them everything so I forgave them.

  “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to save you guys. I’m sorry that I failed to protect you. I’m sorry that I failed you not only as a leader but as a friend and as a sister as well. I’m sorry that I didn’t even say goodbye to you and that I love each and everyone of you”.

  I paused for a moment.

 "However, your deaths won’t go in vain. I will avenge all of you and take down Horatio once and for all. At least I can make Rosewood somewhat safe and make sure no one else has to suffer like we did. That’s a promise".

 I stayed silent for a few minutes enjoying the peace and quiet, giving one last look at them before standing up.

 "I love all of you goodbye. See you on the other side of the war and I hope to see you later when I get older…", I said softly before walking away and into the shit storm that was waiting for me back at home.

  Of course my step dad beat me as soon as I walked in the door. It was payback for what I did earlier. I expected it and I embraced it. I took what was coming to me and I even hoped that this would be the beating that kills me.

  It wasn’t and unfortunately I’m still alive.

  I laid awake staring blankly up at the ceiling. Thankfully I was able to go to bed early since my step dad decided that he didn’t want to deal with me for the rest of the night. Unfortunately sleep was non existent that night as I was replaying last month’s events. Seeing the ones that I held close jumped to their deaths one by one. Everyone cheering, my own screams of terror. I could still hear the breaking of the glass window as Horacio put my fist through it. My bandaged left hand clenched up as I felt the phantom pain. I tried turning onto my side to look at my alarm clock. I let out a silent yelp as I was in pain from my bruises. My alarm clock read 1:30am. I turned again onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Mom was going to make me go back to school tomorrow and I am just not ready to survive another day of Rosewood torture and dealing with Horatio myself. I just wasn’t prepared to fight alone again.

  Then suddenly it dawned on me like I just got hit with a big pile of bricks. I came up with the realization that If I stayed in Maplehood any longer I would be killed for sure. Either by Horatio, my step dad or myself. One of the three and I can’t die not yet. Not until I avenged my friends and killed Horacio once and for all.

  So I did the most sensible thing that I could do. I got up and winced in pain at my bruises. I got dressed and packed up a small bag. With a couple of pictures. One of mom, step dad, older brother and younger brother and I  and one class photo in 8th grade that was just me with my now deceased friends and some clothes. I took what money I had saved up in my sock drawer. I was going over a couple of towns to the nearest bus stop and buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out of Maplehood and start my life over somewhere else.

  Obviously that didn’t happen or I wouldn’t be where I am now.

  Anyways. I snuck out and headed for the woods that were surrounding my backyard. I never felt so free and full of hope before in my life. This time it was me who saved me. I saved myself. I gave myself a second chance at life and I never looked back.

  Ever.