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antihero-writings · 3 years

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The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch6)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom's memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom's past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Chapter Summary: The interrogation scene

(I'll put the links to chapters 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5 in a reblog!! I also have a version of this fic with all the chapters in one place!!)

Notes: My apologies for the delay!! I was working super hard on a couple projects with deadlines, and I didn't really have the chance for a break. I tried to get back to it as fast as I could once those projects were done!! I hope you're still interested in reading, even so <3

In addition to other things occupying my time, this chapter itself wasn't easy; for some reason, for a good while I had no clue what I'd do for the interrogation scene, add to that to the fact that I picked a very difficult perspective to write for here and it wasn't the easiest XD I hope I ultimately did a good job, and that you guys enjoy it!!

Comments are always extremely appreciated!! And do let me know if you'd like me to add you to a tag list for this fic!!

Chapter 6:

Snape didn’t think his day would go like this.

One must keep a sense of preparedness about them, still, he didn’t think it remiss for not expecting a day that started with Neville handing him a bottle of goop that would be poison in a better context, would middle with the message that the Chamber of Secrets had opened and a student would be killed, and end with Potter standing in his office with Veritaserum conducting his tongue, telling him said student was dead, and the Dark Lord was back, but without memory, and in the body of his sixteen-year-old self.

And said day wasn’t even over yet.

They still had an interrogation to enact—(which would be a lot harder with the aformentioned truth-serumed Potter…and a lot easier with a mute Potter)—to make sure the missing-memory-claim was unequivocal fact.

He was about to walk into McGonagall’s office to see a sixteen-year-old Dark Lord. And he was expected and required to act like the boy was an ordinary student—(though the boy himself probably already knew he wasn’t).

The person most feared in the wizarding world, who’d killed so many he lost count.

Not the least of which was—

It wouldn’t be a problem.

There was a spiteful look in Potter’s green eyes as they ventured through the halls.

The silencing charm was proving enjoyable in addition to practical...But the small pleasure he gained from Potter’s plight had a fly’s life span.

As they approached the door to the office, his grip tightened around the truth serum in his hand. From a glance out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter had a similar tenseness about him.

He hated this boy, no question…but he’d be a monster if that story didn’t incite some form of empathy in him.

—(In another time there was another redhead lying dead on the floor Halloween, killed by the same person. Empathy wasn’t a choice.)—

They opened the door, and the sound was like a conversation being snapped in half.

“We’re not interrupting, I presume?” Snape’s voice carried across the room—(sure they very much were)—calm as if Dumbledore really was speaking to an ordinary student.

He let his eyes flick from Dumbledore to the boy in the chair in front of him, who had turned to them.

Annoyance may have flared in Potter’s eyes, but this boy bought his annoyance from an entirely different factory, one where they manufactured all sorts of other, far more gruesome emotions.

The eyes were brown, and human, but they were an echo—(What’s an echo before the real thing sings off the cliff edge?)—of the red ones he’d later possess. Red sitting behind the brown, like adult teeth in the skull behind the baby’s, ready to force the childhood out bloody, for something worthless as a couple coins.

“Thank you for coming, Severus.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he sneered as he stepped to Dumbledore’s side to face the boy once more.

He knew he’d be young, but a hex wasn’t entirely out of the question. Seeing this, this thing that once murdered thousands without blinking, this thing that shrieked the words of death with a high, cold voice over countless muggles and muggle sympathizers, and whose eyes held no form of remorse, or sympathy …sitting before him, young and handsome and perhaps even human—

His left arm itched.

“Well, unless anyone can offer a viable reason to continue dilly dallying, I suggest we begin.” Dumbledore spoke pleasantly.

Snape glided over to the boy—whose voice was level as he asked;

“What are you doing?”

Snape held up the truth serum.

“Do you have any idea what this is?”

The boy’s eyes flicked from the bottle to Snape wordlessly. Odds are it physically pained him to admit he didn’t know something.

A smirk tugged at Snape’s lip.

“Wonderful.

“And I don’t suppose you’ll drink it willingly, if we were to ask you to?”

The boy’s eyes lidded; You must be joking.

“Even better.”

He flicked his wand and ropes bound the boy to the chair.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Well if you won’t drink it willingly, then we’ll just have to make sure you do so unwillingly.

“Open wide.” A said like a dentist, that smirk marking his features as he grabbed his chin and forced his mouth open, like offering King Claudius the poison.

“Try not to enjoy this too much, Severus.” Dumbledore cautioned.

The boy started to protest, but the sound was drowned out by the potion pouring into his mouth—which Snape quickly cast a spell to keep him from spitting it out.

When he swallowed Snape cast the counters to each of the curses binding him and glided back around the desk.

The boy wiped his mouth, gaze throwing daggers at him. “Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Only our favorites.”

“What happened in the Chamber of Secrets?” Dumbledore asked, his voice commanding, but never losing its calm.

“What happened in the where?” Tom demanded, not altogether politely.

“The Chamber that you woke up in earlier.” Dumbledore continued, still pleasant. “Would you mind filling us in the details of what happened there?”

“I don’t have to—” He was probably about to say ‘tell you anything’ but quickly found himself rather inexplicably compelled to do just that.

He detailed his waking up in the Chamber without memory to see Potter crying over the dead Ginny, about how they exchanged words, how they got out…nothing that would betray the idea that he had lost his memory.

“Thank you for telling us that.” Dumbledore replied simply—though something flickered behind his eyes when he spoke of the girl. Potter fidgeted in the back of the room, and likely would have asked why he had to stay if he could. “Are you certain you remember nothing prior to that?”

“I told you I don’t remember anything! What did you do to me?!”

“You mean you don’t usually feel overly compelled to tell the truth?” Snape examined his nails.

“No.” His eyes were lidded.

“Oh? If you don’t remember who you are, how would you know?”

“Does anyone feel overly compelled to tell the truth? Seriously, who are you people?!”

“We already told you,” Dumbledore intonated. “I am the headmaster of this school, a school for witchcraft and wizardry. The oddly silent Harry,”—He gestured to the boy standing mutely at the back of the room—“is a student at this school, and Severus Snape here is a professor.”

“I have a hard time believing teachers would strap a student to a chair and force a truth potion down their throat!”

“We are wizard teachers. That means, at times, our methods can be a little…unorthodox. Tom”—The name made him flinch—“we merely want to discern if you truly are without memory. You may remember more than even you yourself are aware of—and more than simple questioning would illuminate. There are few other ways to discern this efficiently. Personally I would have attempted a bit more explanation and persuasion before resorting to tying you down.”—He shot a glance at Snape—“But…though it may not seem that way, we are trying to help you.”

“I don’t think Severus”—Snape flinched at his name even more visibly than Tom had—“is particularly inclined to help me.”

Snape was seconds from doing something either very stupid, or very smart, but Dumbledore stood, his voice with a bite to it.

“Professor Snape is not particularly fond of you, that’s true.”

"Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at Snape.

“Hmm…I would like to phrase this delicately…” Dumbledore continued. “In your time here, you could be a bit of a…a bully. This is of course why Harry here isn’t particularly fond of you either. He has been subject to your bullying on more occasions than one. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

Potter froze, as if surprised they asked him a question, then nodded.

“So what you really mean is that you are trying to help me, and these two are here to watch me suffer your ‘help’?”

“I did not intend my ‘help’ to cause you suffering. I apologize that it has. And just because you were not a particularly kind individual in the past doesn’t mean others are unwilling or undesirous to help you. That is what it means to be kind.”

Snape’s eyes met Harry’s, and he was particularly glad the boy’s overly truthful lips were sealed shut at that moment.

“Let’s get back to the questions shall we? Do you have any memory at all attached to your own name?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name. Names are very powerful. You mentioned you did not know it until Harry mentioned it to you. Does hearing it arouse any particular memories or feelings in you?”

“Memories, no. Feelings…”

“Yes?”

“Hatred.” Tom froze, eyes wide, and his hand flew to his mouth—the first real reaction they’d seen from him.

Despite his particular distaste for divulging the truth, he hadn’t said anything too incriminating yet. This was clearly one of those things he thought would grant him power if it stayed inside.

“You feel hatred at the sound of your name? I see. Do you feel this hatred hearing anyone else’s names?”

“Yours.” He said into his hand. “His.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder, gripping his mouth.

“Wonderful.”

His hand came back down into his lap. “Wonderful?”

“Well, not wonderful that you hate the sound of all our names, I don’t imagine that’s very pleasant. But this is helpful information. And this hatred does not come with any concrete memories?”

“No. Why do I hate—?”

“I imagine it’s because you were not overly fond of us either.”

“Why didn’t I like you?”

“Because we were two particularly large roadblocks in your path of bullying.”

He paused. “…Why did I bully you?”

“Troubled home life, perhaps? You may find it difficult to believe, but you did not divulge the contents of your personal life to us. But I imagine you were dealing with quite a bit of internal strife to take it out on your fellow students. I do hope you will choose a different path in this new life you have been given, so to speak.”

The boy tapped his fingers on the armrest. “…What are you going to tell my family?”

“Your family?” His eyebrows raised. “About what?”

“About the fact that I don’t remember them.” He said like Dumbledore was stupid for not knowing.

“Oh, well, in that sense you are both particularly lucky, and particularly unlucky, in that your family is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Dead.”

The boy paused, his gaze falling to the ground as he thought. “So where is my home?"

"Of that I am not aware. I think, perhaps, Hogwarts was more home to you than anywhere else."

"...Where will I go, then?”

“Go?”

“When I’m not at this school. You yourself said you might not let me back. Where else can I go?”

“That’s what we will have to discuss over the next few days.”

A look of surprise crossed Potter’s face, as if he hadn’t realized the sixteen-year-old dark lord would be any sort of permanent fixture.

To tell the truth the thought was rather jarring, but Snape hadn’t ruled out disposing of him just yet.

"What about my friends?" the boy asked.

There was a small indication of surprise in Dumbledore's eyes at the question, but it faded quickly as he answered. "It pains me to inform you that—to my knowledge at least—you did not have any."

His eyebrow raised. "None?"

"None of whom I'm aware."

The boy looked down at his hands in his lap, as if pondering.

"Does that sadden you?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"No." The answer was cold and immediate...but apparently not truthful, as a moment later he barked the word "Yes," followed by an annoyed groan. Another pause. "...I don't know that 'sad' is the right word."

Dumbledore nodded. "Such a potion cannot always help one discern the truth of their emotions, that is, if they do not know them themselves.

“Severus, do you have any more questions?” Dumbledore’s gaze ticked to Snape, a meaningful glint in his eyes. Snape gave a small nod in return.

“You are completely certain you don’t remember anything prior to a few hours ago?”

Imperceptibly, Snape flicked his wand at his side.

“Why do I keep having to repeating myself?! I—”

Scenes flashed before Snape’s eyes. A darkened chamber, a tattered diary, a sword, a phoenix, a boy crying, a dead girl, red hair like flames on the stones—

“What the hell was that?!” Tom demanded immediately, shooting up. “What did you do to me?!”

“To what are you referring?” Dumbledore asked.

“That—That—Those visions! What was that?!” His eyes darted venomously between Dumbledore and Snape. “You’re looking through my memories, aren’t you?!”

“Merely a side effect of the potion.” Dumbledore answered as if they were having a conversation over afternoon tea. “Nothing to worry about. Please, proceed.”

“I said I don’t remember anything!” He spat.

Snape tried again, and again the same scenes that they had already described flashed by.

After exiting the memory, the boy’s eyes were wild and fiery, continually darting between the two of them, and Snape swore he saw something red there.

“Is that all the information you need?! Can I go now?!” He spun to storm out of the room before they gave an answer.

Another flick of Snape’s wrist, and the boy was lifted into the air by his ankle.

“Class has not been dismissed, Tom.”

Emotion rushed across the boy’s face; horror, rage, humiliation, and Snape reveled in it.

“You said yourself;” Snape stepped closer, and his voice softened into a taunting whisper, “where would you go? Would you wander the halls like a lost, little boy without his mommy?”

Tom’s eyes flashed once more, and he squirmed against the spell, and it almost seemed, for a second, like he’d hit Snape.

Another flick, behind his back this time, and this time he concentrated very hard at breaking past the scene only an hour earlier.

It was as if he hit a wall in the boy’s mind. Snape never thought of people’s minds as books to be perused by any passerby, but the harder he tried to break through, the more the boy’s mind looked like the ripped pages of a book too old to hold itself together. Like walking into a dream where the dreamer stopped imagining the world, so reality just…tapered off. The world in his mind, ripped, hazy, rotted and congealed.

“Would you stop that?!”

“That concludes my questions.” Snape pocketed his wand and turned to Dumbledore.

“What about you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked gently. “Anything to ask?”

Potter glanced between the two of them, surprised his opinion was of any worth in this situation—(and, if he was frank, Snape wasn’t altogether sure it was).

“I think you’ll find Potter is disinclined to speak for the next few moments.” He tried not to smirk.

Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles at him.

“Will you Let. Me. Down?!”

Another flick, and the boy fell to the ground on his head and in a mess of limbs.

“You could’ve been gentler!” He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.

So could you.

Notes Cont.:

As I said, Snape is a rather difficult perspective to write for, and I’m still not entirely sure I did a great job with him... I would have used Tom’s perspective and reveled in his horror, but I felt I should probably use Snape because of the legilimacy thing. I wanted you guys to know what he saw there. It's possible I might try rewriting this chapter from Tom's perspective to check if I missed any reactions or questions he would have/ask too, or even if it's overall better from his perspective...so keep in mind stuff might get edited in the future!! And do let me know if you liked in in Snape's perspective!!

FYI, these should be the three perspectives I use/alternate between (Tom, Harry, Snape). At the moment I don’t intend to add more. Maybe if I really need to for an off chapter down the road I will, but I can't imagine what that would be at the moment.

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captains-log-reviews · 4 years

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Disney’s Peter Pan (1953)

Summary/Overview:

I’ve been considering a Hook-themed review blog for some time now, and what better way to start off than with the classic 1953 Disney film? Originally slated to be Disney’s second animated film after Snow White, the idea for a production of Peter Pan was in Walt’s mind long before it hit the big screen. Walt himself had played Peter in a school play as a boy and had retained a fondness for the story ever since. The first major film version to feature a boy (Bobby Driscoll) in the titular role, Disney’s Peter Pan has since become perhaps even more widely known than Barrie’s original. That being said, I think it’s probably unnecessary to give much in the way of a summary, but for the sake of developing a consistent format for my reviews, here’s the super quick version:

Wendy Darling, a young girl with an active imagination and a love for storytelling, is distraught when her practical father decides that it is time for her to grow up and move out of the nursery with her brothers. Later that night, after her parents have gone out, Peter Pan—the flying boy hero of Wendy’s stories—shows up at her window and offers to take her and her brothers to Neverland, a magical island with mermaids, “Indians,” and pirates where they will never grow up. Unfortunately the kids get caught up in the plans of Captain Hook, who wants revenge on Peter for cutting off his hand and feeding it to a crocodile. Ultimately, Hook captures the children and nearly kills Peter with a bomb in the guise of a present from Wendy, but Tinkerbell, Peter’s loyal fairy friend, saves him just in the nick of time, allowing Peter to free the children from Hook’s crew and fight the captain in a final duel that results in Hook being chased off into the sunset by the crocodile. Wendy and her brothers return home safely, and Wendy realizes that she isn’t so afraid of growing up anymore...only to have her father admit that maybe holding onto her childhood a little bit longer wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

What I Liked:

Those of you who followed me over here from my other Hook blog, not-wholly-unheroic, already know that I am more than slightly biased when it comes to Disney’s Hook. I distinctly remember the first time I saw him on screen when I was twelve. The sequel had just come out on video, and ABC was doing its usual Sunday Disney movie (and advertising) by showing the original Peter Pan one weekend, followed by the sequel the next. I was bored and had never watched the film before, so I decided to give it a shot...and I was instantly struck by how different Hook was from any Disney villain I’d previously encountered. While most of the classic villains are motivated by greed, vanity, or the desire for power, Hook’s feud with Pan is at least somewhat justified considering he not only lost a hand but also faces the constant threat of the crocodile as a result of our supposed hero’s actions. Additionally, prior to Peter Pan, Disney’s major villains (Queen Grimhilde/The Evil Queen, Lady Tremaine, the Queen of Hearts) were typically rather flat and lacking in personality. We see only their wicked side (or in the case of “Man” in Bambi, we don’t see them at all!). Hook is a major departure from this trend in that while he is clearly made out to be the bad guy, we also see him in moments of fear, weakness, and self-doubt. We see him sick and in pain and ready to give up at times. Suddenly, he isn’t just a villain anymore... He’s a person we can empathize with. Walt himself recognized that the audience would “get to liking Hook” would not want him to die as he does in Barrie’s canon, opting instead to have him “going like hell” to get away from the crocodile but ultimately still very much alive at the end of the film.

Aside from Hook himself, I love the dynamic he has with Mr. Smee. While Hook admittedly doesn’t treat Smee well, there is clearly a bond of trust between them. Early on in the film, for instance, Smee prepares to shave Hook with a straight razor. It’s a moment that is ultimately used for comedic effect, but when one considers that Hook has a crew full of literal cutthroats, it says a lot about Smee that Hook feels totally at ease with this man putting a blade to his neck. Smee repeatedly attempts to intervene to save Hook when he doesn’t have to, and Hook unfailingly looks to Smee when he’s afraid for his life or when he needs to send someone out to complete an important mission for him. It’s a villain/sidekick dynamic that borders on friendship, and I think it adds a lot to the film and to Hook’s complexity as a character.

As far as artistic choices go, it is a rather minor thing, but I love that they kept the stage tradition of using the same actor for both Mr. Darling and Captain Hook, giving the film a rather dreamlike feel and subtly reinforcing the enmity Wendy feels toward her father in real life as she faces off against Hook in the Neverland. Speaking of the actor, Hans Conried isn’t just voice for Hook, as many would assume... He IS Hook as much as any live-action actor could be. I love the old hand-drawn animation style and how they used to use the actors as live-action reference models. (You can see some shots of Hans as the reference model vs the final images of Hook in the film here.) If you’ve ever seen a recording of Hans in one of his other roles, you’ll notice he doesn’t just SOUND like Hook...he makes the same facial expressions (particularly in how he speaks with his eyebrows) and hand/arm motions. It’s small details like this that make Hook (and all the characters) more human and show just how much time, effort, and love the animators put into their work.

What I Didn’t Like:

RACISM. With a capital “R.” There’s no sugar-coating it. Unfortunately, Disney’s film falls victim one of the many problematic tropes of the time when it was made and portrays the island’s native characters as highly caricatured, ignorant, and—in the case of Tiger Lily—romantically exotic people. Their signature song, “What Made the Red Man Red” is lyrically painful to modern listeners with any sense of decency, and the villagers’ character design—from their bright red skin to their large noses and often extreme body shapes (very fat or pencil thin)—along with their badly broken English is highly uncomfortable, to say the least. On the other hand, Tiger Lily, the most realistically drawn native character, is shown dancing flirtatiously for Peter and subsequently rubbing noses with him in what is meant to be a sort of native kiss (based on the concept of the “Eskimo kiss” which in and of itself is not a politically correct term).

Aside from the glaringly obvious issue of racism, my only real complaint with the Disney film is the music. While the songs are pretty standard for films of the day, I personally don’t find most of the music particularly memorable or catchy. “You Can Fly” is alright, I suppose, but the next few songs have their issues. “Following the Leader” and “What Made the Red Man Red” both have racist undertones, and Wendy’s lullaby, “Your Mother and Mine” puts the kids to sleep for a reason... It’s sweet but rather boring and drags on for far too long to keep the audience’s attention. Less time on the lullaby and more pirate sea shanties, please!

On the flip side, Hook is arguably the first Disney villain to get his own theme song, which is pretty cool. The original pirate song (which you can find here) is a bit more sedate than “The Elegant Captain Hook” we end up with and focuses more on the joys of pirating in general than why Hook, specifically, is someone the kids should want to work for. Personally, I’m glad they chose the song that they did, though I do wish they’d given Hook more lines as originally planned. (You can find the lyrics to the full version here.)

Would I recommend it?

Despite its flaws, Disney’s Peter Pan has had a major impact on the legacy of Peter Pan and how we view the characters as well as Neverland itself. It has long been a personal favorite of mine and acted as a gateway into the fandom for me. It introduced me to Hook as a likable, sympathetic, and complex villain and I’ll always be grateful for that. I definitely recommend it to anyone entering the fandom, those with a fondness for the nostalgia of classic Disney films, and kids at heart of all ages.

Overall Rating:

As much as I love the film and want to give it a perfect score, I’d be remiss if I didn’t deduct at least a few points for the depiction of the “Indians.” Otherwise a lovely version of the story so... 4/5 stars

#captain's log reviews #disney peter pan #peter pan disney #peter pan 1953 #disney captain hook #captain hook disney #reviews #disney reviews #movie reviews #film reviews #captains-log-reviews

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fucking-zawa-sensei · 5 years

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Hey any chance for some of your favourite erasermic fic recs? Feeling the need to just binge out on my fav comfort ship ♥

I’m so glad you asked! I had been meaning to do one of these at some point. I admittedly don’t read much fic anymore due to being too busy, so I’m not up to date with all the new writers out there, but here are a few of my favorites from the past year or so I’ve been in the fandom.

Erasermic Fic/Writer Recs:

1. First and foremost, anything by LAJustice (@aizawashovta). I can’t possibly name a single fic of hers to be the best because they’re all so phenomenal and more often than not, feel like a personal attack against me and my emotions, hahaha. I love every single word she writes and am so happy to be able to create stories with her and call her my friend.

I would definitely recommend her Perception series as a starting point (sex, insecurity, angst so good I can feel the knife twisting in my gut), but you should really just read her entire collection of works because why on earth would you deprive yourself of that?

2. Shout & Mute is a fic by @ill-go-with-that-then that I actually JUST read recently and I can’t praise enough. It’s a body swap fic, but instead of the usual humor that might come along with that situation, it’s full of angst and emotions that made my heart weep. There are so many amazing little details in the way their bodies and quirks are different, and it has some painful pining that is right up my alley. It’s such a fun read. While you’re over there, check out the rest of her works, you can’t go wrong reading one of her fics!

3. Soft Black Leather - By Anonymous. No one knows who wrote this fic, but I would be remiss not to include the story that hit me so hard it made me want to give fanfic a try myself. This story did things to my heart that will never be undone. On the surface, this might look something like an ABO fic, but at its core, it’s a heart wrenching pining fic that anyone who has been here more than a few months will tell you is top tier erasermic. Read this and be a wreck with the rest of us.

4. Gonna get Mine/Jump the Gun by cursedwurm An AU where Hizashi is in a band and Nemuri drags Shouta to one of their shows. One things leads to another and they end up hooking up. Feelings get involved, of course, and things get messy, and my heart breaks the whole way. (Are you noticing a theme here? I love to suffer).

5. I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead (or Close to it) by Wolfram003 This one is still ongoing, 14 chapters in, and hasn’t updated in a little while, but I’m hoping will keep going. Even if it doesn’t, it’s still worth the read. There’s a lot of mystery unfolding in this story. Shouta tries to stop a group of villains he’s been tailing for a while and things go spectacularly wrong. I can’t say much without spoiling it, but there’s a lot of action and intrigue mixed with pining and confessions. It’s a thriller and a romance!

6. Buttless writes a lot of fantastic fics. For Hire is one I have been desperately awaiting updates on since I got into this fandom, haha. If you don’t mind incomplete fics, I still think this is a great one to read. It’s another AU where Hizashi is a performer and Shouta is a sex worker. Loneliness leads Hizashi to looking for a unconventional hookup he can’t get out of his head and Shouta surprises him in more ways than one. It’s nearly 10k and it will have you grasping your chest from all the feelings. You won’t get the resolution you might be looking for, but it doesn’t end on a sad note and I think can be considered a fairly finished fic even if it is missing the second chapter. (I will race back to read the second chapter if it ever goes up.)

7. Behind Closed Doors by birbisthewirb ( @birbpotate) Birb is such a good friend and such an amazing writer! I would recommend ALL OF HER FICS, but this one is one I’ve had saved in my bookmarks for a while now. Scandal! Stripper au! Fresh new feelings going terribly wrong! UGh! It has sex and angst and everything in between and I can’t wait for her to finish writing it. Birb is away at training, making all of us so proud, so it might be a while until some of her fics update, but they’re definitely worth the wait. If you don’t plan on reading them yet, bookmark them and wait for her to come back and finish them. You will NOT be disappointed.

I’m sure there are so many other fabulous writers out there who I am forgetting! There are certainly many more amazing fics I have read, but sadly I neglect the bookmark feature and primarily use it to save fics I want to wait for updates on, not so much to actually save ones I’ve already read (can you tell by the fact that 90% of this list are incomplete fics?). So I end up not remembering the names of the fics I loved reading…I’m so sorry! I can guarantee any of the writers on this list will provide you with hours and hours of amazing stories. You should read their entire Works, not just the fics I’ve recommended here.

Special shout out to my girlfriend, @kittymiczawa (Meowmix101 on ao3) who also occupies my bookmarks with her unfinished fics. She refuses to give me special treatment so I have to suffer like everyone else to find out how the hell Strange Voices ends.

#erasermic #maizawa #erasermic fic rec #maizawa fic rec #fic rec #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #yamada hizashi #present mic #bnha #mha

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fikfreak · 6 years

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New Amsterdam One Shot...

Alright, so I couldn’t let this go...i couldn’t! I had to write this tiny little one shot for my new fave show New Amsterdam. I might write more as the mood hits, but this is what i was able to eek out while still working on my Richonne FF No Ordinary Love.

so i hope y'all like this little tiny peek into Max and Helen, and if you guys do like it, i might do a few more.

@akarensilla @100kindsofblake @commacommacommachameleon @rwtl2016

Max...

I don’t know why I can’t look away. Stop myself from gazing at her lips instead of her eyes. Watching the way they pucker and pout to form those sophisticated medical words that we all initially stumbled over in medical school, but finally mastered by residency. The bronze gloss slicked across them stealing my focus more often than not.

She’s my doctor. I’m her boss. I’m a married man. Kind of. With Georgia leaving me, absconding away to Connecticut with our baby, I have no way of knowing where our relationship stands. And now my heart wanders, wonders, rapidly bruising an anxious rhythm against my chest…for another. A woman who is not my wife.

Her dark eyebrows raise high on her forehead, signaling that she’s waiting for some verbal response from me. “Did you hear what I said, Max?”

“Huh? Yeah. Yes, I did.”

“Remission. For now. That’s good news.”

“Yes, Helen, I know that.”

“Then why aren’t you smiling?”

Inching my arms from the sleeves, I toss my white coat across my desk, and I wearily drop on to the couch behind me and lean back, my arms crossing my chest. The stress of the day is still heavy in the strain of my muscles, my bones. But her question, posed in that sardonic, British lilt of hers, instantly lightens the weight of everything. Catching the gaze of her dark amber eyes dancing over my face, a slight frown dipping her full lips, I tilt my head a little. “Am I not smiling enough for you, doctor?” I ask, grinning now, wide, wanting to please her for some irrational reason, to obey her obvious desire for a smile. From me.

Pulling her head back a little, fighting a grin of her own, she points her index finger my way, zeroing in on the tilt of my lips. “Well now you are positively grinning. Cheshire Cat has nothing on you, eh?”

Dropping my head bashfully, then raising my eyes back to hers, I can feel a blush coming on as her eyes travel the planes of my face again, studying me. Looking for something that I hope she finds pleasing. Lasering in on my lips. “Just giving you what you want. Er- asked me for.” I stutter, keeping my head angled slightly away as I rub my hand nervously across my neck. Could I be any more transparent? I assume it’s obvious that my affection for her lives and breathes in my every moment with her. Why should I even attempt to conceal it any longer?

“Max, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile. Genuinely smile. A smile just for you. The chemo, the radiation, your personal trials-”

“You can say it, Helen. My wife leaving me.”

“It’s just good to see you happy, like you were when your baby was born. You deserve that kind of joy, simply for what you mean to everyone you’ve impacted. You change so many lives for the good. I’m- I’m just glad I could help put that smile there.” She advances on me. Two short strides bringing her to standing in between my wide stretched legs. Helen gestures to my lips again, one red tipped, manicured finger, just a hair’s breadth away from me being able to kiss it. Suck it gently into my mouth. The thought ambles in the forefront of my brain before I get a chance to tuck it away with the rest of my secretly held desires for her.

This time is different though. Something unnamable between Helen and I has changed. After the many early mornings and late nights of chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Of her bringing me back to my empty apartment, to feed me, care for me, make sure I am resting before I charge back to the hospital to change the world. Unable to even change the trajectory of my hopelessly broken marriage. There were so many late nights spent with me witnessing her triumphant return of Helen’s emotional investment, and relentless drive back to the profession we both love, that bolsters the brilliance of her mind, and the earnestness of her will to make a difference. Countless days have passed with me listening to the sadness lacing her soft voice as she ruminates about the lack of love in her life, and her dwindling prospects for parenthood. Together we have unwittingly knitted from the remnants of our past lives, a new one together, interwoven with pieces of heartbreak and latent desire for more. For a connection.

I cannot discount that I owe my recovery and my health to this woman, who has asked for nothing in return, no promises I cannot fulfill, no broken vows of forever. No dissatisfied grimaces followed by a retreat to the wealthiest of Connecticut’s gated enclaves. With Helen, there has only been the simplicity of an ear to listen, and a broken body that I allow her to heal. Perhaps in this moment, when the air is charged, positively crackling with this unacknowledged energy arching between us, we can both finally admit that this unspoken thing simmering between us, is simply everything.

It’s been there for over a year now. Since I walked through the door, full of hubris, and armed with an unflinching desire to fix things. Something. Myself even. Over time maybe even her. The slight melancholy that always swims in the veins, dragging down the spirit found underneath the silky covering of her mocha tinged skin, urging me to make right whatever it is that rides her, bars her from joy. I know what it is. What I can do. What I can give her. Would I dare? Would she ever accept that it doesn’t come from the same place my work here at the hospital does? That it’s not conditioned by my oath to do no harm, to treat and care for the sick. This desire that pools in my heart for Helen is more urgent than anything I’ve ever felt. Even my feelings for Georgia.

Leaning up, straightening my back, I’m brushing my thumb across the apple of her cheek, and down, a feathery graze over her lips and chin. “Helen?”

Slowly, almost as though she’s in pain, she drops her eyelids, the lashes delicately resting, sweeping in a gentle blink the tears that leak in tiny pulses down from her eyes. “Max?”

“I can make you happy too. If you let me.”

“Max…”

“If you let me, I would make us both happy. We can make each other that way.”

“You’re not ready. Take this gift of remission first. Use it to fix what’s already broken.”

“I am. I’m ready for this, for you. For remission. To move on. To be happy again. For real this time. If you will let me. You and I are what’s broken.”

Helen doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to. With slender, trembling fingers she reaches for me. It’s not foreign to me. Her touch is welcoming, emitting a warmth that has comforted me as she has helped to treat my cancer over the last year. There is a tentative hesitance in the way her skin grazes mine. Haltingly approaching my cheeks as though to cup them, then dashing away, unsure of herself. But I’m not unsure. I’ve thought of this many days, many nights. Sometimes of nothing else as our friendship has blossomed over the last year. As she watched on as Georgia delivered my child, then summarily snatched her away from me, relegating me to an every other weekend parent.

Helen was there when the dean of the hospital finally, grudgingly, but with a modicum of pride, admitted that the changes I have made here at New Amsterdam have worked. Have positively altered the trajectory of the lives we touch, our own getting better, more fulfilled in correlation. So here we are in my office now, prepared to jump into the abyss of what this could mean for us. How this choice as well, might simply change everything.

Something in me wants to push her to choose me. To move aside the cloud of doubt that hides her feelings from me, to forge ahead and claim her. To pull her smaller form down onto mine, and shield her from her uncertainty. Cloak her in the absolute rightness of us. But I don’t.

She’s like a deer, a bit skittish. Unsteady even. A colt on new legs, but somewhat eager to rush ahead into the unknown. Instead I turn my head into her restless palm that hovers against my feverish skin, and allow my lips to settle there, placing delicate, encouraging pecks along the life lines that traverse her skin.

“Max, I do want…that.”

“Me too, Helen. Me too.”

#new amsterdam #helen and max #i hope y'all like this #i love them so much #trying not to become obsessed #sharpwin

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dismalzelenka · 6 years

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@4vrafangirl (Talesfromthefade) Shrouded in thick and black smoke for the DWC? Welcome! <3

Super late prompt fill for @dadrunkwriting, life happened but I’m slowly catching up, wheeee! Platonic Solamell is my new favorite thing.

The dream was always the same. That's how she knew it was a dream this time; she'd been here before, heard the screams before. The way the acrid scent of burning flesh choked her lungs, sent her to her knees gasping for air. The seaside fortress that housed the Circle, shrouded in thick, black smoke as centuries of accumulated knowledge crumbled to ash before her eyes. Dairsmuid burned, as it did every night while she stood powerless to change a thing.

"This was an unforgivable atrocity."

Solona jumped. "Solas."

"My apologies for the intrusion." He inclined his head gently. "I felt your presence in the Fade more keenly tonight than usual and thought to offer my companionship, if you would have it."

"I..." Solona bit her lip and fought back the tears. Was she ready to share this pain with someone? She dusted the dirt from her knees and sat back, hands in the dry, wiry grass that covered the plains. "It was," she said finally. "Unforgivable, I mean."

"It strikes me as curious how few people know of what happened here," Solas mused as he sank to the ground beside her.

"The Chantry wants it kept quiet." She sighed. "It's a year tomorrow, did you know that? One year since an entire Circle burned to the ground, and not a soul here knows except for me, and perhaps Leliana. And now you, I suppose. Three of us to mourn a city."

"It seems unlike you to bow to the Chantry's wishes," Solas observed.

"These people have seen enough bloodshed."

"I cannot say I agree." Solas twisted the scrub brush between his fingers. "You should not bear this memory alone. If it is too painful, I can speak to the Ambassador on your behalf, but I have seen enough loss in my life to understand the importance of marking the impact it leaves on a person."

Solona chewed on her lip and stared at the smoke clouding the air in front of her. Somehow, with Solas beside her, it felt lighter, easier to breathe. Tears clouded her vision as she watched shadowy figures running from the ruins, falling to swords and arrows, spectral bodies piling up around them as those who had survived the fighting tried to flee to the hills.

"They prepared a siege for a fortress of war," she said softly. "We were a village. A handful of senior enchanters, apostate refugees from other parts of Thedas. We had mages old enough to require assistance walking, and children barely weaned from their mothers. Templars who grew tired of chasing escapees and just wanted a quiet life serving the Maker by protecting. You could have fit twice our number in Skyhold and still had room to spare. We never stood a chance."

"And yet you lived," Solas observed. "Despite the atrocity committed here, it would be remiss of me to not express my gratitude for your life."

"I didn't deserve it." Solona picked at the dirt beneath her fingernails. “I can think of so many people, good people, better people than me, who should have survived in my place.”

Solas took her hands into his. “And yet it was you who led us to where we are. This is not insignificant.” His gaze was searching when he met her eyes. “Whatever may have happened otherwise, you are the one who has been given this mantle to bear. And there are many of us who would gladly bear it with you, especially on a day like this one.”

Solona sniffled, the tears finally breaking through her resolve. “You would mourn this with me, then?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“It is no trouble, Inquisitor.” Solas gathered her into his arms and let her bury her face into his shoulder when the sobs left her gasping for breath. His hands rubbed gentle circles into the small of her back. “I have seen too many cities and fortresses fall unremembered. I am glad to play a part in ensuring your home is not forgotten.”

“Home.” She tasted the word on her tongue as though she were saying it for the first time. “Yes. It was home.”

“Then it is our duty to make them remember.”

#dwc #da drunk writing circle #prompt fill #wow this was so late #solas #solona amell #solas & amell #platonic ships #platonic solamell #hurt/comfort #dairsmuid #friggety fucks the chantry sucks #Fade conversations

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lhupics · 4 years

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Draft 2 Bodyguard fic

~*******~

“These creatures are unlike any I've seen before.”

Anrivan pulled his sword out of the body of the last man he had slain and kicked the corpse, so it rolled off of the stairs to join the pile of dead creatures that already ended up there. His eyes scanned the throne room in this temporary moment of respite.

When a captain of the guard came to his room to tell him the throne room was under attack he believed it a bad joke and didn't heed the captain's plea for him to flee while he still had the chance. He went to the throne room instead and found it was no joke at all. It wasn't even a nightmare; no, it was much worse than that.

His parents lay face down on the floor in puddles of their own blood. Not far from them lay his younger siblings in much the same fashion. The guards were still fighting when he arrived in the room and managed to close and bar the entrance, but died in the process.

The only ones left alive at this moment were his loyal bodyguard Andokai and himself and they had their own battle prowess and experience to thank for that. How much longer they'd remain like that was still the question.

Loud screams came from the other side of the large door, as well as the incessant pounding of an object against it. It would only be a matter of time until they'd break through the door and force their way inside, ready for a new wave of attack. “They are called the Morna'zjar.” Anrivan averted his gaze from the door so he could focus on Andokai, who was going through the bodies at their feet. She was only a few inches smaller than he was, with a body hardened by long years of battle despite her young age. Actually, he did not know her age, but she still looked young, around his age, and so he always thought of her that way.

His eyes narrowed when he heard her speak. A set of curses he picked up while serving in his father's army escaped his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut in anger. “Who are they? Where do they come from?”

Andokai studied the corpses carefully and frowned. “They are not from around here. The Morna'zjar are a race bred for war. Their raptor legs give them inhuman speed and agility. Their skin has been hardened with tiny scales and their tail gives them balance. As for their humanoid torso, that was to make them look pleasing to the eye as well. They are completely loyal to their masters and have no qualms about fighting to the death.”

It surprised Anrivan to learn that Andokai knew whom they were dealing with here. Then again, she'd traveled a lot more than he did, so it made sense. He took a closer look at their opponents. “Who are their masters? And why did they kill my family?”

He knew there would be no answer. The dead would not give that to him.

Anrivan sighed deeply and knelt down near the bodies of his family. His entire body shook with grief and anger; his eyes were fighting to hold back the tears he wanted to cry for his loved ones. This was not how he imagined losing his parents. He always thought that his father would die old in bed and his mother as well. Now they were lying here in puddles of their own blood. It looked like they tried to flee, with his father protecting mother and the youngsters, but were slain in the process.

“I want answers, Andokai.” The young prince got back onto his feet and turned around to face his bodyguard and companion.

She positioned herself back before the thrones, her heart pounding in her chest, and she increased the tightness of her grasp on the swords she always wielded in battle as the sounds on the other side of the door grew louder. Andokai looked straight into Anrivan's eyes as he returned to standing next to her. “We will have to fight and stay alive until our true enemy decides to reveal themselves and that may be a long time.”

“I don't plan to die before I've gotten my answers, Ando. I don't care how long it takes or how many more people I'll need to kill before these 'masters' come out of hiding.” His voice sounded firm and determined. There was a violent and angry streak to it that Anrivan's voice rarely had, yet considering the situation it made sense.

The young prince returned to gaze upon the young woman standing beside him. She'd been at his side for so long already and it seemed fitting that she was with him now at this darkest hour, the end of their world as they knew it. At the same time he struggled with her presence. Anrivan bit his bottom lip and returned to stare at the door, although he didn't see it. “Andokai,” he spoke distantly. “I cannot ask you to stay here.”

She blinked a few times, not believing what she was hearing. “What did you say?”

He continued to refuse to look at her. “I cannot ask you to put your life at stake here. My family is dead and I will be shortly as well, as I don't expect a lot of mercy. If my family was murdered so brutally then my life will not be worth a lot either. They do not seek your death and if you stay here you will surely die. You should flee now you have the chance.”

Andokai lowered her head and knelt down in front of him. “You are relieving me of my duty, your Highness?”

A pained groan escaped Anrivan's throat as he too bowed his head. Her words and the tone of her voice reached his very core. “Don't call me that, Andokai. Have I not told you to stop addressing me with titles such as lord and your highness?”

No answer came to his question. It wasn't necessary, because he knew the answer already anyway. After a long pause he regained some of his composure. “Yes, I am relieving you of your duty. I wish for you to leave my side and seek shelter elsewhere.”

“Have I been remiss in my duties that you send me from your side?” She sounded young, just like she did when she first became his bodyguard. Even her language was as respectful as then. They had not spoken to each other like that for ages.

Anrivan fell down upon his knees and grabbed her hands. “No, by the Seven, no, Andokai. You have never failed me.”

She looked up at him, her lips pursed together and her eyes were already filling with tears. “Then why are you sending me away?”

He buried his hand in the mass of her hair and kept her where she was, so he'd be able to look into her eyes better. “It is for that very reason I am sending you away. I do not want you to die.”

She shook her head. “Is that not my decision to make?”

“Please do this, for me.” He looked at her pleading eyes, squeezing her hands. “You do not need to die here.”

Andokai took a deep breath and smiled. “I am not going. I will stay here, right at your side. Where else should I go? My place is with you and I will not leave my post. If I should die I'd rather die at your side than in some place avenging your death.” She pulled away from his grasp and got back onto her feet, her head tilted slightly in aristocratic fashion, as he'd sometimes seen her do whenever she got into a certain mood. “I am disobeying my orders, lord, and there is nothing you can do about that.”

She returned to her station next to him. “Let them come.”

Anrivan took the same position, leaning on his two handed sword, and smiled. He should have known she wouldn't leave, not even if he ordered her to go. Following orders was never one of her strongest suits. As much as he was concerned for her life he was also glad she was with him. This way he would not need to face the end on his own.

The great door to the throne room cracked and the wood shattered about, leaving a great gap. Once the enemy soldiers broke through the battering ram they used was thrown aside and they flooded the throne room, gathering up in front of the two people that were still alive inside.

~******~

The battle was going badly.

Anrivan breathed heavily as he slew yet another one of his foes. There were so many of them. Blood poured out of a head wound, but he didn't pay much heed to it. There were more pressing matters at hand and by now he was bleeding out of many wounds.

His eyes widened when he found himself up against one male warrior from the Morna'zjar with dark colours and feathers on his tail as well as behind his ears. The warrior's battleprowess astounded him so much that he was caught off guard and for that he cursed himself, for he was thrown onto the ground and the enemy fell down upon him, keeping him from getting back up again.

Next to him Andokai wasn't faring much better. She wasn't the tallest person around and that often worked to her advantage when dealing with enemies, for they underestimated her many times, but there were way too many of them, even for someone as skilled as her. She was driven backwards, where she almost stumbled over the bodies of the royal family.

It was not fair they already had one battle behind them and the people they were fighting now were still fresh.

Anrivan crawled out from underneath his attackers and tried to get over to his friend's side, yet even as he crawled the attackers swarmed towards him like bees to honey, or moths to the flame. He was too busy to keep them off of him to do any real fighting.

“Andokai,” he groaned as he reached her, barely able to keep on standing, even if he was already down on all fours.

She jumped next to him to fend the people off of him and grabbed his arm to help him up. They stood with their backs against the wall of the throne room, behind the thrones and looked at the number of enemies appearing in front of them, ready to take them out.

Anrivan groaned again. The blow that caused his head wound left him dizzy and disorientated. At this rate they would go down in no time. He grabbed hold of Andokai's shoulder pads. “You should have left when you had the chance,” he grunted.

“No,” she answered, although her voice was failing her at this moment. She was getting exhausted as well. “I would rather die than leave your side.”

They braced themselves with their backs against the wall and kept their weapons aimed at the warriors in front of them, still managing to look menacing despite their injuries and weariness. It looked like the death strikes could come any second, as the distance between themselves and their attackers was decreased.

Yet the death strike did not come.

Anrivan growled and lashed out with his sword, striking several men in front of him. “What are you waiting for? You have us here, where there is no escape for us. Why do you not kill us? Go ahead I dare you! End it!”

The Morna'zjar warrior he fought against earlier came into the prince's line of view again. He signaled the rest of the attackers to stand down, yet to keep their weapons aimed at the two people standing with their backs against the wall. They seemed to be waiting for something, or maybe someone.

“What are you waiting for?” Despair filled Anrivan's voice and he lowered his weapon. What was going on here? Why didn't they make a move? They came here to kill him, right? He was the heir to the throne and the last remaining member of the royal family. He was the only one standing in their way of taking over the country. “Don't you want me dead? Kill me! Why will you not strike?”

“Because they were told not to, dear boy.” The deep melodious voice came from behind the group of warriors.

As soon as it was heard the soldiers scattered, creating a path between themselves, so the new arrival could step forward. It was an older woman, or at least she looked older than him, with dark hair pulled up in elegant fashion and wearing a tiara beset with many gems. Her dress was made of the finest silk. She moved gracefully, with an arrogant tinge to it, and she looked down upon the prince and his bodyguard.

A simple hand gesture was enough to tell the Morna'zjar with the feathers to make them prisoners.

Anrivan narrowed his eyes as he was stripped of his weapon and his arms were bound behind his back, while he was forced upon his knees. He looked at the woman carefully; she seemed familiar, yet he couldn't remember where he'd seen her before. “So we're your prisoners now then?”

The woman approached the prince and chuckled as she placed a finger underneath his chin, to keep him where she wanted him. One finger was all that was necessary. “Tsk tsk, Anrivan. Show a little more respect to your elders.”

He growled at her rebelliously. “I'll show respect where respect is due. And you should call me 'your highness'. I am still heir to the throne of Alkumar.”

The smile the woman conjured upon her face was as cold as her eyes. She tapped Anrivan on his shoulders. “Careful, my young prince. You will find that things are not as they used to be anymore with your family dead. Your old station is meaningless now. The Royal House of Alkumar is dead and we, the Illirudari, will take control of the country.”

Anrivan looked at Andokai, who sat upon her knees silently beside him. She had never been one to speak much in front of people who considered her to be of a low station, as she was only a bodyguard. She left the talking to him mostly. It often seemed like he was the voice and she was the weapon he commanded, yet he didn't consider it as such. The young prince returned a fiery gaze at the woman in front of him. “Then what will you do to us if you will not kill us?”

“Oh, I could care less about your female bodyguard, Anrivan. She means nothing to me and she is of no use to me either. For you, however, I have something special in mind. My people insisted that you should be killed, but I managed to convince them to follow my plan.”

Anrivan's eyes narrowed once more and he glared at the woman. “I will make no move without Andokai. Whatever you have planned for me does not matter to me, but you will not exclude my bodyguard. She goes where I go.” That statement seemed to take the woman by surprise, even if it only showed for a moment. She started laughing immediately afterwards. “As you wish.”

The next moment Anrivan and Andokai were both knocked out cold and carried out of the throne room.

~*****~

Anrivan immerged himself in the clear water of the pool. This place was unlike anything he’d seen for and he’d taken some time to properly admire it. He had no idea the great forest of Naclos harbored places like this pool with the waterfall. It was so peaceful with only the sounds of the forest sounding through.

When he first set foot upon the forest's soil he'd felt uneasy, as if his every move was being watched by many pairs of eyes. The forest was a lot darker too and seemed menacing, as if it was trying to keep unwanted visitors out. Why did it allow him to enter then if he was not wanted here in the first place?

Now that was gone.

He couldn't really say when that changed, just that it had, so he was able to cleanse himself underneath the waterfall. It didn’t take long before he discovered he was no longer alone in this tranquil place. He threw a glance across his shoulder to find out who followed him, yet it was difficult to see with his eyes full of water. Deep down he hoped it wasn't the young esquire in their company, who seemed completely out of place here and the boy simply got on his nerves. That boy was in a continuous state of fear here. It was as amusing as it was annoying. Although he figured each and every one in his company would get a heart attack if they found out he was gone and they'd cause an uproar trying to find him.

Anrivan wiped the water out of his eyes and blinked a few times as he stepped out from underneath the waterfall only to lower himself into the water. A flash of sunlight fell upon a piece of armour near one of the trees nearby.

He chuckled. “You can come out now, Andokai. I know you're here.”

His words had the desired effect; she emerged from the shadows into his line of view, her head tilted back slightly and her arms crossed in front of her chest. “You know you shouldn't wander off on your own here.”

“How can I wander off when I have you with me following my every more? It's like you're my own personal peeping Tom.” Anrivan turned around to face his peeping Tom, looking at her while he tilted his head.

She was the one to chuckle now. “You're the heir to throne, I thought you'd be used to it by now that people watch your every move. It shouldn't unsettle you anymore.”

The young prince moved through the water into Andokai’s direction. “I never said it unsettled me. Besides, I'd rather have you following me around than say that nervous little bundle of a boy we have with us today or the old man waiting back at the camp.” There was a short pause. “Since you're out here now anyway why don't you join me? I'm sure you can use a bath after all that travelling and the water is lovely.”

Andokai remained silent for a little while and smiled all of a sudden. “No, thank you.”

He reached the shore, yet remained in the water to keep his nether regions out of sight. She hadn't been assigned to him for very long yet and they were still getting to know each other. Considering they were going to spending a lot of time together and they'd see each other washing many times Anrivan figured this was one way to do that. He was used to having people around while he was washing anyway and he thought she was too, considering she grew up in a military order as one of the few females there. They'd even trained together many times now, so they should be used to each other by now. “Are you afraid of me?”

It was just a taunt and they both knew it. Andokai tapped onto her arm with her fingers. “Please, you know better than that.”

“Come join me then. You deserve some time to relax”

No answer came and that seemed strange to him. This wasn't how that afternoon went. He remembered that afternoon well, in fact he would never forget it. Anrivan turned around and looked about himself. “Andokai” he called out. “Andokai!”

She wasn't there. Somehow she suddenly disappeared when she was there just moments ago. A cold wind picked up and chilled both water and the prince bathing in it. Not only that, the water grew dark and the trees regained that menacing aura that unsettled him earlier. It was as if they were humming to a song he couldn't hear, but he could definitely feel it.

“Andokai? Where are you? What's happening?”

He was alone, standing in the middle of dark vicious water now, up until his chest and the water was still rising. Everything else was gone. There were no more trees,there was no waterfall and there was no sunset. There was only a dark sky with purple hues around him; air so thick it was almost suffocating him.

Another voice was carried to him by the wind and echoed around him. “She is not here, my young prince. She is gone, she has left you behind.”

Anrivan shook his head. “No, I don't believe you! She would not leave me behind. She said she'd stay at my side.”

It was then that she materalized in front of him.

That woman.

She reached out to him with her long slender fingers and wrapped them around his chin as she stood upon the water, lifting him out of it with the greatest ease as if he was a feather and not a young man in the prime of his youth, where he knows there are limits to his strength but where has not found those yet.

“What are you doing here? Stay out of my head.” It was difficult to speak while he was held up by his jaw, but he tried nonetheless.

Her smile was eerie and her voice very much the same way. “So very persistent. You seemed much easier to break in the throne room just now. You should just stop resisting, Anrivan. It is pointless. You're all alone.”

Anrivan lowered his head. “Stop talking. I don't want to hear your voice anymore. Everything you tell me is a lie.”

A shiver ran down his spine as she traced the shell of his ear with a finger nail, then his jawline, only to move to his lips afterwards. He struggled, trying to get away from her, but some kind of force kept him where she wanted him to be.

She looked different he thought all of a sudden. Of course she still wore the clothes that she wore in the throne room, but her nails were longer and dark. Horns protruded from her brow as well wings on her back. Upon her brow something shone as well and he could see upon further inspection that it was a crystal of some kind, purple, like the hues in the sky that now turned to lightning.

What was this place? If it was a place at all.

Anrivan groaned deeply. Something was pulling at his chest, somewhere, yet when he looked down upon himself he couldn't see anything unusual on his body, yet the hurt was there. He couldn't be imagining that. What was going on?

“I spared your life, Anrivan. It now belongs to me, to do with as I will. As such you will also do as I will.”

~*****~

An agonizing cry echoed through the citadel.

Below the ground Anrivan's body was chained to a wooden table. Behind him upon iron footwork stood a purple crystal. A great rune was drawn onto the floor underneath the crystal and energy rose ever higher, encircling the trashing body on the table.

Various Illirudari had taken position upon the rune on the floor and chanted incantations, to keep the magical energies flowing.

Anrivan screamed.

It felt as if his body was being torn to pieces, yet he could not lie still. He wanted to get away from this place, this event, away from whatever was being done to him. Now he was completely conscious he could feel it even more; he could even see what was happening to him as the crystal showed his reflection.

He was changing.

Into what he didn't know: all he could say was that his eyes were different. They were no longer grey, but purple. His hair was no longer black, but white. At the same time his hair was short, with a few tresses still long, but mostly his hair was now unkempt and wild. His skin was a dark gray now,with a rune on the middle of his brow and more runes on his shoulders, chest and arms.

That was not even the worst of his transformation.

Another cry escaped his throat as he saw his chest. Right in the middle of his chest, where his breast bone once had been a crystal now protruded through his skin. Just the look of that unnatural phenomenon was enough to drive him insane. He wanted to tear at it, rip it out of his body, but his hands were tied. It was then he noticed his nails were different and not only that: his feet had changed too. They both looked like claws. He looked like... like those creatures he'd been fighting earlier!

Two Morna'zjar walked towards Anrivan's table with a chalice in their hands. One of them grabbed his head and forced his mouth open, while the other poured the contents of the chalice into it. The prince swallowed it, although his oesophagus protested heavily. He didn't know what it was, but it tasted odd. It felt as if all layers of himself were stripped away to the point where he didn't know himself anymore.

The entire process was exhausting.

At one point he wasn't sure if he could even fight on. The pain was wrecking his body and his mind. He fell back against the wood and just closed his eyes. There was no strength left in him.

“Andokai,” he muttered weakly. Even his voice sounded strange to his ears. “Andokai.”

He moved his head from left to right, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, no matter how small it may be. She had to be around here somewhere, or did she get killed after all? He hoped for the latter, because he did not wish for her to go through this torture.

A slender hand was placed upon his sweating brow, moving the wet strands of hair out of his face. Anrivan blinked a few times to see clearly again. It was her again. She looked quite pleased as she towered above him now, having a strange sparkle in her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, yet no sound emerged from his throat.

If he could he would reach for her, yet he couldn't. After several long moment he managed to find his voice. “Where... is she? Where is Andokai?”

The woman sounded belittling when she answered. “She is gone, little princeling. You don't need to think about her any longer.”

Anrivan closed his eyes, falling into the deep slumber he so desperately tried to resist, but failed at.

~*****~

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weabbynormalblog · 4 years

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The Answer...

Since my last entry I've managed to give up all processed sugars, a very worthwhile and achievable goal. We need a healthy health minister here in Quebec. Its so depressing watching his cholesterol go up with the Covid19 cases. This Pandemic is a night mare. None of us can escape. We have to protect our health, our relatives our neighbors. Watch our nerves and stress levels. With meditation, yoga Im keeping as a level head as possible. I'm so glad I stuck with my goals and made the changes that I did. The benefits are astounding. I'm sleeping better. I feel stronger for all the good things that I do for myself and others, even under these Covid Skies and gruesome revolt against this Pandemic stuff speared headed by #45. I do this all for myself and everyone else. I'm in my constant moment, they should be free of pain and more constructive than they were and that they are. I have come a long way. I successfully replaced the cutting for exercises, good diet and journaling. My moods are not as erratic anymore. The sugar and process foods were a constant trigger tilI I could give those up. So 3 years now process food free and 2 years sugar free. I went from from not being able to eat to being ravenous for healthy food. My brain likes it better too there is no doubt. Im also following a standard sleep hygene model now. After the car accident I was lucky if I could get a few hours a night. There is a pay off for all of it. I swear! I didn't get to this place overnight. Took feeling better about my body, situation and prognosis to get past all the nastiness. You have to keep at it, get at it from all sides, full suport for your health. You must respect and listen to your body and go slowly. Slow and steady wins this race. One day I will be in remission from Chronic Fatigue and pain. My brain Sybil with all the drama, turns out she was crying out for help. I am helping myself as best I can. Good diet, energy management, self massage- do not neglect your tendons especially if you suffer from Chronic Pain and fatigue. Self care should be a top 1 priority. On the opposite end I've had a few bad falls and head injuries since too. I'm no rookie to repetative injuries either as a result of walking with crutches, vertigo and a 75% numb body. It always amazes me how tough I realy am. I get back up, dust myself off and carry on. Like an energizer bunny. Its challenging. Physically, mentaly and even spiritually sometimes. Illness and permanant handicapes are no laughing mater, till I'm finally the one laughing. We think we know everything. One day you realize that its a whole different ball game. Cause and effect. The real game changer for me is knowing that we are always growing, healing, changing and learning; no matter what. Acceptance is key.

Once we've got ourselves sorted. We have to take a stand for what is right. Peacefully Demand Humaitarian Treatment across the Globe. The weak must be protected. That's our at risk people like 1st Nations, the elderly, the young and the infirmed. As a human on this planet. We all should have Basic Personal Rights and Freedoms. Access to clean drinking water, education, nutrients rich foods, equal wages and equal treatment regardless. We all should be engaged in Ecological and Agricultual Preservation. Climate issues are just as important. These are human global issues. I say... We all need to take a proactive roll and work together despite our uniquness and be united by our sameness. Humans of Planet Earth! Let us rise above the bull shit and fix this broken ass world by us and protect nature and humankind from this moment on!!! Follow the golden rule, look to solutions rather than violence. Chances are they are more scared of you. Step into your personal power, it knows no gender, shape or color. Yes 1 person can make a difference

#the answer to our suffering #answer to good health #remission for chronic fatigue and pain #1person can make a difference #Humanitarian rights for all!!!#make a difference #how to help this world

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lifethroughfingertips · 7 years

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Something I thought a lot about as a child was probably how I didn't want to go to school, how I wanted to go outside and Jason Mraz

One thing I need to work on is time management. How to say no. Not eating sugar and bread. Taking my medicine the proper way.

The biggest gift in my life right now are the people who make me want to fight.

I'm most proud that I am true to myself and still here.

In the next year, I really want to get closer to remission from Lyme and follow my treatment as strictly as I can so I know I did everything I could. I also hope to get close to my goal weight.

The skill I've always wanted to have has to do with intelligence. I'm better at things like English and art and music, and sometimes I wish I were good at math.

If I could turn back the clock and give myself advice, it would be... Don't listen when your doctor says you're fine. You were bit by a tick. This isn't about your weight. Don't shut up. Stand up for yourself. Stand your ground always and change your life.

The quality I most admire in others is compassion. I will genuinely care about you if I know you're a good person. I also love honest innocent interactions. The other day I was in the car with a few friends and we had Wendy's and we noticed the car next to us did too. So my friend held up his bag and the dude in the next car smiled so big and held up his bag. And honestly I live for that. I also admire it when others don't get jealous easily. I hate being a self conscious butt.

I would go back in time to when I was younger and demand my pain be recognized.

I get afraid to tell people about what life is really like for me. I am friendly and bubbly so often times people don't see how hard my day to day is and how much that has influenced my mental health. I'm always afraid to tell people how I'm really feeling and what I truly need.

The thing I'm most thankful for is my family and friends who are the best thing about being here.

When people first meet me, I hope they feel like they now know what it's like to shake sunshine's hand.

One thing that makes me sad is knowing there's people all around the world who suffer. It's not even just about me. I often wonder if I can ever achieve true happiness because I am overly empathic. I want to make everyone happy and it's impossible, and I don't like that limitation.

If I was given unlimited time and resources, I would like to learn multiple languages.

The three things that have surprised me so far in life: Life is a lot harder than I ever imagined it would be as a youngin. Only need that one to explain everything that's surprising.

The traits that rub me the wrong way with people are when they support Trump to be honest, close minded, when they need to point out people's flaws all the time, controlling, thinking they know everything, etc

If I had to describe my taste in music I would way it's bomb and always improving.

The thing that annoys me most is pain. Pain pain pain pain. And dishes and traffic.

I'm putting off cleaning and starting my new antibiotics and medications because I'm nervous.

I wish I could feel a little better so I can work more like start at a home bakery, start a band, work out, ride my bike, stick to eating healthy, publish a book, travel. And I wish I had a golden retriever.

A person who left a mark on my life who I'm grateful for is so so many people. Sometimes I am even grateful for guys who broke my heart because even though they didn't feel the same way as me, some moments we shared have made my life richer.

I'm glad I know... You!

One thing I wish someone would tell me is... "You're in remission." But often times I lay in bed wanting to be held and hearing "I'm here. You're gonna be okay. I will take care of you when you need me. You're so brave. I'm so proud of you. Thank you for fighting. I know you're tired."

I'm stronger as a person because my life is a series of unfortunate events and I have walked through the fire. People think you're a badass if you can kick someone's ass. But nothing is more badass than your body trying to kill you and you saying fuck that every day.

The thing I like most about myself is my heart. I actually really like who I am. Even if I mess up, get jealous or have room for improvement, I try my best to be someone who I am proud of. I'm sweet, compassionate, witty and I live my life trying to make other people happy.

I feel at home when I'm in my bed naked.

My place to escape is my bed while I'm high and naked.

If I had to choose another decade to live in, it would be the 50s! Purely based on aesthetics.

When I was younger I thought I was going to be a drummer and in the WNBA...

One good thing that happened to me last week is... My dad went into the store to get a few things and brought me out some olives

Something new I'd like to try is boxing. If my body can ever handle it, I would love to try.

My favorite thing in my town is probably the beautiful gigantic waterfalls. But in a town nearby we have a drive in and it's one of my favorite places in the world.

I relax when I'm intoxicated or having a low pain level day.

The song I know all the lyrics to... So many songs?! The remix to ignition?!

My role model is my mother. She's hands down my favorite person in the world. She deserves so much more than she's ever gotten. I wish I could give it to her.

I admire Bernie Sanders.

The movie I tell my friends to see is Forrest Gump cause it's my favorite.

I want to learn how to play piano, how to send my writing to publishers, how to let go.

I wanna travel to England and Ireland and Greece, Yelm, Washington, and go camping in Canada.

The last thing that made me laugh was picturing a chicken nugget with cowboy boots on.

The thing I always forget to pack is my phone charger.

Something I want to let go of is boys.

Everyone needs to be listened to sometimes. Comfort.

I focus by... I honestly have a really tough time focusing. It's another thing I need to work on. Sometimes the right music helps me.

The goal I'm working towards right now is feeling better.

Five books I want to read are... This Nicholas Sparks book I've been trying to finish, the man and the sea by Ernest Hemingway cause I just got that from the thrift store, the Restaurant at the end of the universe, finish the unabridged journals of Sylvia plath, and many more that I can't think of off hand!

The most important thing in life is love. In all different forms. We are here to have a good time and have some fun. To feel and experience as much as we can before our time is up.

I'm good at singing and cake decorating and makeup and my writing isn't terrible :)

I recently learned how to use a split screen on my phone....

My favorite joke is my life!

#for anon

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fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/yogis-with-cancer-and-chronic-illness-share-their-story/

Yogis with Cancer and Chronic Illness Share Their Story

1. Andrea Clary

“2018 was the most challenging year of my life thus far. I received news that would change my life forever. A diagnosis that hit me like a ton of bricks and would alter my life course. I went from bike riding, teaching yoga, and working full time as mental health professional, to being confined to a hospital room. My body now felt as though it was no longer my own, but a landscape for science and medicine. I endured several rounds of chemo, invasive procedures, and rapid changes in my physical and mental state. I was stripped of my physical strength, my weight, my hair, my practice and many other things I clung to. Suddenly, I had to choose whether to live fully and fight, or give in. I made up in my mind I wasn’t here to give up. I was here to triumph. I held on to this idea through every moment I experienced fear, pain and sorrow. I would say out loud, “This will not be my life.” I was faced with learning how to spiritually grow through stillness in the midst of an experience testing every fiber of my being. In that stillness, I began to discover myself. I discovered grace. A word that was beautifully appointed by my closest friend in my darkest time.

Thanks for watching!Visit Website

Yoga isn’t just helping me heal, it’s helping me live. It aided me in fortifying my mind, body and spirit. It helped me understand a new concept of strength, helping me soar over each medical hurdle I faced. I claimed remission and 8 months later, here I am in remission, cancer FREE. Continued healing in my navigation of this second life is a process I work towards through yoga and an evolving spiritual practice. With each day there may be a new challenge and it may thwart you. Keep going anyway. Personal growth is not linear. There may be loops, triggers, setbacks or repeated patterns, but each is designed to help you learn and propel you further. You are more than a diagnosis. You are a soul having experiences bringing you to and through circumstances contributing to growth. You are a source of light made to shine brighter than your wildest dreams. Believe in this, believe in yourself and believe you are uniquely crafted to inspire!”

2. Adria Moses

“Hi, my name is Adria and I define warrior. I very well could’ve gave up 13 years ago after being diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. I very well could’ve thrown in the towel 6 years ago after my surgery left me on life support. I could’ve stopped when I couldn’t work and couldn’t afford my car payment anymore. I could’ve given up when I filed bankruptcy alone without a lawyer at 21 because I couldn’t afford to pay my medical bills. I could’ve given up when I suffered from depression and suicide ideation. I could’ve given up at the sight of my own body, now scarred by the trauma. I could’ve not shared this with you but for what? I could’ve done a lot of other things besides get up time and time again. And honestly, my story is very undefined. You see the beauty, you see the healed scar, you see the good and I’m glad. Pain should indeed polish you. But just know that this lotus comes from the mud. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Favored. Highly blessed. And motivated to change the way we view one another. Every one is fighting a battle unseen, don’t you ever forget it. I will continue to be uplifted and shine the light that was so graciously given to me. This is warriorism, undefined. Don’t run from the pain, run towards it.”

3. Yulady Saluti

Today is my Cancerversary. 7 years ago I opened my eyes from surgery and saw my husband [husband’s] face. Instead of the smile I was expecting I noticed a tear rolling down his cheek. Instinctively I asked him “how did the surgery go?” As soon as he spoke I understood where his beautiful smile had gone. “Honey, you have cancer” were his words. When he spoke the words they seemed to hang in the air for a while. Then the words started to settle. Out of the air the words drifted and took a seat right in the center of my chest. We had been through so many problems with my health already. We held each other and cried. It was one of those cry’s that leaves you heaving for breath. Why me?! Why now?! My mind raced. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we started to take slow deep breaths together. Syncing our breath made it feel like we were one. Cancer had no chance at that point. Together we can do anything. Whatever Cancer wanted it could have. It couldn’t take “us” away from each other no matter what it took from me.”

4. Jessica DiLorenzo

“A lot can happen in 3 years if you put your heart to it. 3 years of intense emotional and physical healing. 3 years of loving wholeheartedly. 3 years of making peace with new pieces of me. 3 years of receiving guidance and support in so many forms. 3 years of developing skills for deep listening. 3 years of trusting my intuition, of forgetting and remembering. I’m just far away from it now that sometimes I forget it ever happened. Those are the best days. This week I did a lot of reflecting on the struggles and the growth, knowledge, and appreciation for EVERYTHING that came after. Thank you to the teachers (especially the little tiny ones) who guided me straight back to my heart when I started to stray. Presence is everything, and working with children and their teachers/mamas demands it of me. What an honour to serve in aprofession that gives students and teachers voice and freedom to express knowledge, feelings, and creativity in so many forms. This is a great life. I’m thankful to be here with all of you. #3yearsfreeofcancer”

5. Ash “Breast Cancer Yogi”

“When I found out I had breast cancer, I was afraid I’d never achieve my goal of doing a handstand. But I realized it was my LIMITING BELIEFS that were keeping me from even trying:

➣ “I’ll never have the range of motion I did before my mastectomy”

➣ “I’ll never have the strength I did before my mastectomy”

➣ “I will be too sick to train as hard as I want to”

➣ “I am diseased”

➣ “My athletic life is over”

➣ “I might as well give up”

Then I saw people like @paige_previvor hitting the gym after her mastectomy. @katiemarvinney running the Boston Marathon after chemo. These inspiring women were living their lives and crushing their goals–and I wanted to be one of them.

So I replaced my limiting beliefs with positive ones, and just like that… my life overflowed with potential.

➣ “I’ll work within my new limits, but I’ll keep pushing to expand them”

➣ “I can get stronger than I ever was before”

➣ “I will accept off days for what they are, and bounce back with a vengeance”

➣ “I have been given a new chance at life”

➣ “My new athletic life is just beginning”

➣ “I will never give up

Follow @yogajournal on Instagram to see a weekly spotlight of inspiring yogis in our community.

Featured photo image credit: Jazella McKeel, courtesy of Andrea Clary

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#men #yoga classes #yoga exercises #Yoga Exercises

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zephyrthejester · 7 years

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Reflecting on Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Please click “Keep Reading” to view my concluding thoughts on the Madoka Magica franchise as a whole. Unfiltered spoilers abound.

I am only now realizing it: At one point, I stopped perceiving Puella Magi Madoka Magica as being a standard fare story. Right now, I hold this franchise in the highest regard. This tiny, twelve-episodes-and-a-movie story feels to me a grandiose epic, sweeping in scope and masterful in presentation.

I once said I would have dropped this show were I not liveblogging it. That it wasn't for me. I've never been so glad to be wrong.

At the start, my feelings about this show were neutral at best. The content that is surely far more enjoyable upon a rewatch didn't do much for me on my first time through. But as mysteries unraveled and characters became more nuanced, I was sucked in completely to what ended up being a story I'll never forget.

This is, perhaps, the concept of time loops taken to its full potential. The show's initial, slow pokes and prods into the dark and terrible horrors that Magical Girls face became all the more heartbreaking as we saw timelines where even worse outcomes came to pass, where the characters we came to know were broken in body and mind, where one legendary young woman stood tall against it all.

Akemi Homura has cemented herself as being one of the most fascinating fictional characters I've ever encountered. We saw her transform from suspicious neutral party to the main character. From weak and shy, to deathly cold, to the self proclaimed embodiment of evil. Her love for Madoka was so powerful that she walked through time for years and years, letting herself deaden all emotion, letting herself become a focused machine with only one goal. To save Madoka from all the pain Homura personally shouldered upon herself.

And then, one day, Homura won. Madoka was elevated far beyond the reach of that pain and became the salvation of every Magical Girl. But that wasn't enough for Homura. She thought that Madoka wasn't as happy as she could be, so she plucked God from the heavens and made her a mortal. So Madoka could have a shot at a truly normal life. Even if it meant destroying everything Madoka wanted and everything Madoka accomplished...

Homura‘s determination is a pathos that also invokes awe. A willpower that is unforgettable. She said she would do anything to get what she wanted, and she did everything. I am certain that I'll be remembering Homura and thinking about everything she's done for years down the line.

Kaname Madoka appearing to be the main character? A red herring. She easily had the weakest and lightest personality among the main cast, but I suppose that reinforces what she really was. In the end, she was an idea. A concept. Madoka was not a person, but the goal, the everything, the end-all-be-all answer to all the pain Homura and countless other Magical Girls suffered. Despite this, in the ultimate final moments, she didn't matter at all. Madoka, and everything her Godhood represented, was cast aside in favor of what Homura thought was best. And it was all so heartbreaking.

Incubators, or Kyubey, were less a character and more the representation of everything Homura fought against. They were a force of nature, only there to weather against as the characters dealt with everything thrown at them. But then they went too far, and the wrath of Homura was extreme. According to the wikipedia synopsis, it seems Incubators in Homura's world are the new Soul Gems. They feel the emotions, they absorb curses into themselves. Homura drove the entire hive-mind race mad and doomed them with wracking torment. And this pleases me. The meddling of Incubators is why this tragic story exists and why everything was changed forever in the final moments.

Miki Sayaka was instrumental (HA HA HA) in proving to the cast and we viewers the full extent of the horror that lurked just beyond Kyubey's facade. Sayaka's story arc was the baseline summary of how the universe worked (at the time). By itself, Sayaka's rise to glory and fall to despair was beautifully effective, and it defined what Homura's endless journey meant. And beyond that role, Sayaka herself was charming and fun to watch.

Tomoe Mami, in what little screen time she had, was the experienced veteran of the lot... Despite being largely unaware of what it actually meant to be a Magical Girl. As Rebellion proved, she was capable and strong in many respects. Her sudden and immediate death in Episode 03 was monumentally important because it established the stakes. It was a bold, bright neon message saying "This franchise means business."

Sakura Kyouko was the lovable hotheaded tomboy of the group. Looking back, I'm not entirely sure she accomplished anything meaningful in the full scope of the story, beyond assisting in key fights. Sayaka and Mami left their marks, steered the story down a different path... but Kyouko? I'm not entirely sure what she affected in the long run. Even still, I loved her personality and her commanding presence.

Bebe Nagisa wanted cheese.

Finally, I would be remiss not to talk about what is perhaps my favorite aspect of the franchise: The visuals. This show's aesthetic is unique. It's unique. Take a moment to think about what that means. Nothing else looks like Madoka Magica, and nothing else ever will (without being branded a rip-off.) The complete marrying of standard anime visuals with real-life textures, splayed in chaotic, reason-defying patterns... Never once did the Witch content look aesthetically ugly. At all times this show carried a splendid sense of style. All at once, its chaos was structured.

I’d also like to applaud the music. This area is definitely not my forte (HA HA HA), so all I’ll say is that I thought it really sounded nice all the time. The ED song in particular stands out to me as embodying the general mood of this story.

Indeed, it took me a long while to warm up to this show. But now that I am here, looking back at all there is to see, and knowing all there is to know... Puella Magi Madoka Magica has my greatest respect. I am never going to forget this story.

This concludes my liveblog of Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Thanks for reading, and thank you for recommending it to me.

#Puella Magi Madoka Magica Liveblog #Madoka Magica #Liveblogging #Liveblog

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

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Kurtbastian one-shot - “Second Chances” (Rated PG13)

For the first time in Kurt and Sebastian's relationship, Sebastian gets to have a little one and one time ... with Kurt's mother. (2253 words)

This was another part of the story that came a little further in the future than the immediate end of the story, so I'm uploading it as a one-shot. It's basically just to let everyone know that no matter how angsty things get in the story, everything turns out all right in the end. Warning for angst and mention of cancer.

Part 6 of Outside Edge.

Read on AO3.

“Oh, o-okay … whoa, now … WHOA!”

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, I just … can we make the ice less slippery or something?”

“You’re doing great, Mom,” Kurt says, holding his mother’s hands as he leads a wobbly-kneed Elizabeth Hummel around the ice. Her legs inch slowly out to the sides, her toes pointing in at one another, and she slides to a stop. Kurt pulls. Her body moves forward, but not her skates, her toe picks catching on a perpendicular cut in the ice that keeps her from going any farther.

“Uh, Kurt … I think I’m stuck.”

“I think you are, too.”

Elizabeth throws her head back and laughs as Kurt maneuvers to her right side to help her over.

“Ha-ha! I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

“I always believed you could,” Kurt says, gingerly lifting her up and onto the flat of her blades. It takes him no effort at all, heartbreakingly hard for him to comprehend that a grown woman can feel so light. “You’ll be doing double-axels again in no time. You watch.”

Elizabeth shakes her head, her thin fingers clutching on to her son’s shoulders for dear life. “You have far more faith in me than I deserve, honey.”

“Mom, you’ve been done with chemo for how long and you’re already back in skates?”

“That’s because I’m insane.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, taking hold of her hands again, “but you didn’t think you’d be able to stand for longer than a minute, and you’re already doing so much better than the kids in my pre-alpha class.”

Elizabeth looks at her son, a nostalgic smile lifting her lips at the handsome, talented young man he’s become, with her blue eyes, but otherwise so much like his father. She risks letting go of one hand to press her gloved palm to his cheek. “That’s because I have an excellent teacher.”

He takes her hand and kisses it, eyes shimmering with tears that have been lingering there for months.

“Are you guys talking about me again?” Sebastian asks, sliding to a T-stop at Kurt’s side. “Because it’s just getting embarrassing now.”

“Hey, Bas.” Kurt leans left, accepting a kiss on the cheek. Kurt doesn’t really do PDA, especially not in front of his mother. But the last few months of adjusting to his mom being out of the hospital – the excitement of her being in remission, the anxiety of not knowing whether or not her cancer will come back again, her complicated medication schedule, the list of approved and unapproved foods … He skates to remove himself from the ache in his chest that comes with helping care for his mother, and he screams silently behind his smiles when it gets to be too much. The only person he tells any of this to is his boyfriend. And Sebastian has come through for him, his pillar of strength when things get tough. So Kurt will accept all of the hugs and kisses from his boyfriend he can get, whenever he can get them

“Hey, Sebastian,” Elizabeth says. “No coaching today? Or are you just over here annoying my son?”

“A little bit of both. Stick time isn’t for another half-hour on the South Rink so I thought I’d join you guys.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you.” Elizabeth beams as she slides by him at a snail’s pace. “We need one more set of arms to catch me when I fall.”

“You haven’t fallen yet,” Kurt reminds her.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t,” she sings. “Even at my best, I think I landed my jumps on my butt more than I did my feet.”

“Ouch.” Sebastian chuckles. “And yet, you still won a gold medal.”

“Meh. They were giving them out like Pez back then. I think the guy who drove the Zamboni got one.”

“Mom …” Kurt says, scolding his mother for being unnecessarily self-deprecating. Her doctor told him that one of the most important things he could do for his mother is to keep her upbeat. The road to recovery is hard. She can’t expect to be back at 100% right away – even if that 100% was actually closer to 75% before the chemo. So no insulting herself, and no bringing herself down.

Some days, that’s easier said than done.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she says, sweeping non-existent hair off her shoulders with a cocky shake of her head. “I’m amazing.”

“Hey, Kurt! Can I talk to you a sec?”

Kurt looks over his shoulder at Jane, waving at him from the far side of the rink.

“Can it wait?” he asks. “I’m kinda busy.”

“One of the boys in your alpha class wants to take private lessons. His parents say he asked for you specifically.”

Kurt looks past Jane’s shoulder out the glass and sees two people he recognizes as Barry Severson’s mom and dad, smiling at him and waving like he’s some sort of super star. Well, in this small pond, he kind of is. Admittedly, he’s wanted to be for a while. Some days, he can’t believe he did it. He fought and conquered; got the throne and the guy. Someday he’ll find a way to sell the movie rights to his story.

Maybe they can get Sterling Beaumon to play him.

“Okay,” he says. “Just give me one second.”

Kurt turns back to his mom, grinning at him with a pride that’s almost painful to look at. Kurt thought his mom wouldn’t live to see him win a medal. And now, here he was with a handful in his trophy case, along with students of his own earning medals, and he’s not even in college yet.

But it wouldn’t have mattered to Elizabeth Hummel if her son was a street sweeper, as long as he was a happy street sweeper.

“I can take care of your mom for a little bit,” Sebastian offers, already reaching out to take her hands. “Unless you’d rather sit, Mrs. Hummel.”

Elizabeth looks from her son to his boyfriend with a sly grin on her face. “No, I think I’d like to keep skating, thank you. You go, honey. Sebastian can take care of me.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Kurt gives her a peck on the cheek, then turns to Sebastian and points a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare let her fall!”

“Really, Kurt? I’m surprised at your lack of faith in me.”

Kurt stares at Sebastian, sees genuine hurt in his eyes, and sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, shelving a sarcastic remark because, in reality, the only other person he would trust on the ice with his mother beside himself is Sebastian. Sebastian knows how important Kurt’s mother is to him.

He might play the fool sometimes, but he’s also a responsible, compassionate person when it counts.

He’ll do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Kurt hands his mother off. He glides backward a few feet, watching to ensure that Sebastian has everything under control, then changes face and heads off the ice.

Sebastian watches his boyfriend go, increasingly aware that he is now alone on the ice with Elizabeth Hummel, cancer survivor and one of the most important people in Kurt’s life. Sebastian turns his attention to her, who’s looking up at him still with that sly grin on her face.

“Well,” he says, feeling awkward without Kurt there to act as a buffer between them. “Did you want to keep going around? Or did you want to go across?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m brave enough to go across just yet,” Elizabeth says. “My eyes haven’t adjusted to all the white ice.”

“Okay. We’ll just continue the way you guys were going then.”

“Yes, please.”

Sebastian holds her hands gently in his and starts backwards. Sebastian didn’t know Kurt’s mom before they started dating. Elizabeth Hummel only started accompanying her son to practices when her oncologist transferred her to a hospital nearby for treatment. She seems smaller not wrapped in the heavy blankets and jackets she brought with her to wear when she sat in the penalty box. Her hands, stuffed inside fluffy, red-knitted gloves, feel frail inside his, and he’s afraid that if he squeezes too hard, he might break something. Suddenly, he’s way more anxious being in charge of her than he was before.

He starts wondering if this is how Kurt feels when he’s with her.

“You know, this is the first time that you and I have gotten to spend a moment alone together,” Elizabeth says.

“Yes, it is,” Sebastian replies, with a forced smile because he has no clue what to say.

“I didn’t think you guys were going to make it at first. You had such a rocky start … then a rocky middle ...” Elizabeth teases Sebastian the same way Kurt does, with a tilt of her head and an innocent roll of her eyes. Sebastian would normally laugh, but he has too much pent up regret in his stomach to allow that.

“I know,” he says. “And I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Well, Kurt’s forgiven you, so I guess I can forgive you, too - bygones be bygones and all that jazz. Besides, it’s not me you have to worry about.” Her lips draw tight, but her eyes still laugh.

Sebastian swallows hard. For a second, the ice tilts beneath him, then it pops back into place too quickly. “S-so I’ve been told.”

Elizabeth savors the shade of pale her son’s boyfriend becomes, but she can’t hold on to her stern expression too long. She sputters a laugh. It comes out wicked, even though it isn’t meant to be. “Don’t you worry about Kurt’s dad. He just wants what’s best for his son. There were a few months there where he thought he would end up being a single father, and he was scared. But since I’m still around, I’ll put in a good word for you.” It’s morbidly easy the way she says it, as if she didn’t just mention the possibility of her own death and then dismiss it in the same breath. She must have thought about it a lot, Sebastian figures, if she can be so offhanded about it.

“I’d appreciate that,” Sebastian says with a hard lump in his throat. He feels himself tearing up and fights against it, but Elizabeth notices, especially after Sebastian sniffs and looks away.

“Oh, Sebastian.” She pulls herself closer as Sebastian slows to a stop. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to bring down the heavy or anything.”

“It’s not that. It’s just … sometimes I think about how things were before Kurt and I started going out, how I used to treat him, not knowing about the things going on in his life, and I kind of can’t help hating myself.”

“Honey” – Elizabeth puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, offering comfort, but the lack of strength in her fingers does the opposite. It reminds Sebastian of what an incredible asshole he was while Kurt thought his mother was going to die – “you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t need to to know not to be mean to him. And, to be honest, had I known, I probably would have still been mean to him because the only thing that mattered at the time was getting ahead.”

“Well, is that the only thing that matters now?”

Sebastian shakes his head glumly. “No, it’s not.”

“Then I would say you learned a valuable lesson, wouldn’t you?” Elizabeth attempts to give Sebastian a playful punch on the shoulder. He has to lean in to it when she fails to reach his arm.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Plus, it came with a pretty awesome ending, if I do say so myself.” Elizabeth’s gaze travels past Sebastian to the opposite side of the rink, where Kurt is saying his goodbyes to the Seversons and re-entering the ice. Sebastian watches him, bright smile aimed their way as he speeds over, and he can’t stop smiling back. Kurt’s smile has that effect on him.

Kurt has that effect on him.

“On your right, Smythe!”

Sebastian hears the boys coming before he sees them - two hockey players trying to force one another into the wall. A dodge and spin turns into one boy hitting it head on, and the other sliding to a stop too close for comfort. Sebastian jumps on instinct to avoid a hit, remembering Kurt’s mom at the last second. At their close proximity, he manages to grab her around the middle and move her out of the way, but he underestimates her weight. It throws him off-balance, sending him toppling backward. He lands on his back with Kurt’s mother squarely, and safely, on top of him.

“Mom!” Kurt yells, putting on speed.

Elizabeth giggles, face and eyes glowing as she reaches out for her son. “I told you I was going to fall.”

“Are you alright!?” But even with cheeks burning red, Kurt laughs through his worry. His mother looks positively joyful, struggling to get up off Sebastian’s stomach.

“Yeah, baby. It’s all good. Your boyfriend broke my fall.”

“Yup,” Sebastian groans. “Along with my spine.”

“I guess he couldn’t hold all 130 pounds of me, huh?”

“Mom” – Kurt grabs his mother’s arms at the elbows and helps her up – “there’s no way you’re 130 yet.”

“Believe me,” Sebastian grumbles, waiting for Elizabeth to stand before he tries to move, “I think she might be.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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suchawonderfullife · 7 years

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1. The silver lining..

For those who know me personally, you may be wondering why I’ve called this blog “such a wonderful life”? Well, “Wonderful Life” by Hurts is a song of significance to me. The lyrics start with:

“On a bridge across the Severn on a Saturday night, Susie meets the man of her dreams. He says that he got in trouble and if she doesn’t mind He doesn’t want the company But there’s something in the air They share a look in silence and everything is understood Susie grabs her man and puts a grip on his hand as the rain puts a tear in his eye. She says Don’t let go Never give up, it’s such a wonderful life Don’t let go Never give up, it’s such a wonderful life”

It’s about a man about to commit suicide, when he is stopped by a woman, she grabs his hand and assures him it will all be okay. The lyrics continue with her seeing his pain, they fall in love and he starts to believe her words. She saves him.

I used to listen to this song through my sickest and darkest days. This song still evokes strong emotion when I listen to it, I think because of the memory of how sick I was when I needed to hear these words the most. I remember countless nights in my early 20′s, feeling such immense loneliness and emotional suffering. It would be 2am or some ridiculous time, my insomnia in fine form and I’d just spent another day (like hundreds before that) home alone, too sick to watch tv, talk to anybody or do anything relatively normal. My level of pain and suffering was incomprehensible and honestly, I’m astonished I survived it. I used to meditate lying down, for hours on end just to try and alleviate some of my symptoms, then I’d lie on the couch listening to classical music as that’s all my body could cope with. If I wasn’t on the couch listening to music, I was in bed in complete silence and darkness, just breathing, hoping to fall asleep (but unable to) and waiting for another day to pass. So at 2-3-4am, when the magnitude of my isolation was felt the most, tears streaming down my face and all I could think about was falling asleep and hoping to never wake up, this song spoke to the deepest part of my soul. The part of me that knew life was worth fighting for and that I needed to try and hold on a little longer. You can listen to the song here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TB1x67Do5U

I have to tell you how glad I am that I did hold on. I survived years of suffering that I would not wish on my worst enemy. When you have no hope outside of that fire that burns within you, when doctors tell you you’re too sick to be treated and they don’t know how to help you, that you may never get better, the majority of your friends abandon you from lack of understanding and judgement and there is nothing in your day that brings you joy, distraction or relief. When you’re isolated beyond comprehension and left feeling like a worthless burden to those selfless enough to stick around and love and care for you regardless. I’m glad my multiple suicide attempts through those times were never successful. I’m glad the universe has kept me here. Now I have hope and the possibility of returning to a life where feeling joy, having the ability to participate in society and achieving my goals, will outweigh my level of suffering. I may even feel somewhat “normal”- now that’s a dream i’ve had for almost a decade.

In just over a month’s time, I will be travelling to the Hansa Center in Wichita Kansas for life-saving treatment for Late Stage Nuerological Lyme Disease and many other conditions this illness has graced me with. This trip has been a year in the making. Over 8 years of trialling endless treatments, a multitude of tests, dozens of doctors, anecdotal evidence from friends and fellow sufferers on their own journey and lastly a years research solely on this clinic and why this is my best shot at helping my body fight such a devastating disease. A disease that has robbed 12 years of my life, taken away my dreams and life plans, has control of all my organs (including my brain), nervous system and tissues, causes dozens (even hundreds) of debilitating symptoms and has actually made me grateful to be the person I am today.

I don’t want this blog to simply be about me harping on about how sick I am/was, treatments and other sad or challenging things. To me it’s about finding hope and positivity in whatever your circumstances and learning to be grateful for the lessons through things you cannot change or do not have control over. I want this blog to change the way you see the world, to inspire you to never give up, to fight for what you want and to face whatever it is that��s holding you back.

There is always something positive to come from any experience. A silver lining if you will. So here is mine: In my 2 years of “remission” (ages 18-20), though I didn’t know it was remission at the time, I was a very different person to who I am now. I was still kind-hearted, thoughtful, loving and a decent human being (in my opinion). But I was superficial and possibly too driven. I prided myself on how hard I could work and how much I could achieve. Rest or down-time was not something I cared for. I studied full-time and worked 2-3 jobs. Working less than 20 hours a week was not acceptable to me. I would head out with friends on weekends for big nights out, I was extroverted (still am) and very likeable. I found it easy to get along with anybody and make new friends. My looks were very important, as a personal trainer, exercise was my life and I loved being known as a “gym junkie.”

I valued myself on how I looked, men finding me attractive, my achievements and status of profession and how likeable I was to others. Basically, I sought value within myself through superficial and tangible parts of my life (as most of us do). So when I became ill, I lost everything that gave me a sense of purpose and made me who I was. A year into being diagnosed as chronically ill (age 21) and I became severely depressed, even suicidal, partly due to my ongoing isolation and grieving the loss of everything I once had. It took me a long time to learn how to re-build my self-worth from nothing. But I did it.

I slowly learnt the value of being grounded, the importance of genuine connection and meaningful relationships over going out and being liked by whomever I may meet. Now I’d rather have quality time with one good friend, than head out with 10 friends where the conversation is potentially shallow. I’ve learnt how to value myself despite my looks (I haven’t been able to exercise in 8 years and putting makeup on is only possible on really “well” days), despite being unable to work or whatever profession I may have in the future and despite being unable to contribute or participate in society like people expect. Those are the things society TELLS us are important, but if you take them all away, you’re left with nothing. Imagine losing all that shapes you as “you,” becoming a lifeless shell of your former self, how would you get through that and rebuild who you are?

So what’s important to me now above all else, is my integrity, morals and how I treat others. I’m a good person, I know this and that’s what matters. I also learnt how to say no. How to set boundaries and make sure that I take care of myself first and foremost and others second. I used to bend over backwards for people, but when I put people’s well-being before my own, it was usually for them to like me, to keep the peace, or out of fear they would abandon me if I didn’t help. So my intentions (although from a good place) were actually not genuine. I’ve learnt how to be true to myself and only say yes to things that serve me or things I am capable of doing whilst maintaining my own physical and emotional health. “You can’t pour from an empty cup,” remember that. I also learnt through counselling that you do yourself a disservice every time you step outside yourself and your core values, to simply please someone else. You become inauthentic and are essentially hurting yourself.

I’m still extroverted, but I’ve learnt how to be alone and embrace simply doing nothing. At 18 I couldn’t even sit through a yoga class, I thought it was “stupid” to waste time breathing deeply and relaxing. I used to get anxiety if it was a Saturday night and I wasn’t out doing something. I hated being on my own with nothing to do. However now, I actually enjoy time alone, doing nice things for myself like having a bath, cooking a healthy meal, going for a walk, sitting in a cafe drinking a coffee just watching people, spending a whole day on the couch binge-watching whatever show I am obsessed with at the time and more. It’s OK to do nothing and this took years for me to accept. But don’t get this confused with severe isolation when you are bedridden. That is when I wanted to die and being that sick, for that long with very limited social contact is beyond challenging and heart-breaking. I am very fortunate to not be THAT sick right now and to have the (although limited) freedom of making some choices on my better days.

Moreover, I learnt that my circumstances and life need no explanation. I don’t owe anybody anything. I used to justify and explain myself out of fear of judgement. The looks I get when I park in a disabled spot, or get pushed around the shops in a wheelchair, yet would hop out of it to look at something. Feeling unwell at an event and needing to go lie down or leave and not knowing how to tell someone, cancelling plans or suddenly becoming too unwell to speak, move or tolerate a normal sound or smell. It’s exhausting to feel the need to constantly justify your circumstances to people. So I don’t and I don’t care if people don’t “get it.” They’re not people I need in my life.

I’m also more than happy to put people in their place who feel the need to comment on my circumstances to which they know nothing about. Such as the social injustice warriors fighting for the rights of the disabled and their parking spots. I acknowledge their comment by telling them to go look at the VALID sticker on the dashboard that is registered to me. Ignorance is bliss and good for them, but I certainly won’t be a sitting duck to morons who think their opinion actually matters. I know people sick like myself who would benefit greatly from a disabled sticker, yet are too scared to get one because they may get nasty comments from onlookers as they are not in a wheelchair, of prehistoric age or missing a limb. This may mean the difference between them able to go to the shops or leave their house, something many take for granted. A friend once said (towards people like that) “It must be nice to have such a privileged opinion on disability when you are in full health.”

My point is, my view of the world and what I thought was important was guided by what society was telling me. Working hard, always being busy, looking good, putting others first and caring what people think. Being so sick from Lyme Disease gave me the time and necessity to build myself back up from nothing and to be able to think for myself. I don’t buy into superficial connections, fakeness, striving for things that will help my social status, people liking me, or doing something because “it’s what you do” or “society says,” because life is too short. What an absolute waste of time and energy that is.

I’m am empath and I’ve been fortunate enough to find the ability to listen to what my soul really needs in order to be authentic. I have honestly found my true self through all my heartache and I may not ever have had the chance to do that, if I didn’t get sick. You’ll see that I am unapologetically honest about who I am, my life, my desires, interests and dreams. I own who I am and what I want because I am at my happiest when I am true to myself. I don’t believe in filtering my life to ease others discomfort. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s not my problem and I gravitate only towards those who “get me” and embrace all that I am. I can’t tell you how elating that feels. I’ve lost friends because of who I am and choices I’ve made, as they were judgemental and couldn’t see past their own social conditioning and bubble of reality. Don’t get me wrong, that hurts, but they don’t deserve me in their life if that’s their mindset towards someone simply being who they are. This is an outlook people in their 40′s or 50′s start to tap into, when they get tired of living their life how they think they’re supposed to and they just want to be happy. I found this in my 20′s and what a beautiful gift that is.

If you meet me or have met me, I hope you feel that my energy is genuine, that I have depth, an ability to listen with intent to understand and not simply reply and that I honestly care for people. I have an outlook of positivity, I’m a solutions person and I always find a silver lining.

How did I get there though? Through my chronic illness journey I have studied Buddhism, found the benefits of Reiki, healing crystals, meditation, detoxing, mindfulness techniques, sought counselling for deep-seeded emotional traumas, read many self help books and more. I got to a point where my physical suffering was so severe and I had nothing to alleviate it, that I decided I needn't suffer more with emotional or mental pain. If I could at least control my mind and learn how to be happy or at peace through my suffering, then maybe I would either get through it, or at least die with some peace. Your mind and the way you view things has such immense power. This kind of growth didn’t only help me “find myself”, but I learnt that it is paramount to long-term recovery. My recovery didn’t start until AFTER I tapped into all these things.

So I need to express to sufferers out there, that you will NEVER get better if you do not deal with your “shit”, work on yourself and learn how to find peace through your suffering. We all carry trauma and if you’re sick, then it is a part of your chronic illness story. Don’t try to simply fix the physical. I’ve heard this from multiple practitioners and health experts as well, so it’s not just my anecdotal evidence or personal belief. The Hansa Center focus on emotional healing and (from my understanding) adhere to this same belief.

Thanks for reading. Next I will discuss the journey that led me to choosing Hansa and why I did. Make sure you hit “follow” for future updates.

Love xx

#lyme #lyme disease #chronic lyme #chronic illness #spoonie #hansa center #hansa #lyme treatment

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chendermage · 7 years

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An Open Letter.

This is an open letter to You.

I feel like this is what I need to do to give myself closure. These words aren’t from a place of hate, or at least I hope they don’t sound too hateful. These are things that I need to say (type) and whether they reach you or not I'm okay with that because these are words I need to say to help myself move on and I’m not looking for a response to this. These are my views of everything whether I did or didn’t share with you because part of me was always scared of angering you.

Dear You:

I don't even know where to begin anymore. The way I feel right now is that I feel so used. More used than I've ever felt before in my life. I feel like I spend so much of my time, energy, and resources to keep you happy that I ended up losing myself while you move on. I have probably spent thousands of dollars on you to satisfy your needs, wants, and desire. And now part of me feels like I probably won’t see a dime of the hundreds of dollars that you owe me. Honestly, I thought I was doing it to give you happiness which isn't wrong because you got your happiness from it. You say “I didn’t have to” or “Noo don’t.” But we both know that I’m the type of person who would give the sun, moon, and stars to you if it would mean seeing someone I love smile, even if only for a minute.

I gave you a second chance at life by taking you to the hospital and saving your life and I helped you get over the traumas and triggers you have, but I didn’t realize that I did it to help you find your next “One”. Though I said it jokingly that I “kept you alive and help you get over your issues for the next one,” when I tried to put up the facade that I was happy for you moving on, it was hard. It was harder when you said, “You did” agreeing that I was just a stepping stone to help yourself get better and then find someone better. I just don’t understand how you can use the same words or hear the same words and have it not effect you at all. Part of me feels like those words don’t mean anything to you, that you can just reuse them or hear the same thing again. To me, there are a few words that I don’t think I’m ever going to use again.. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are moving on but right now it’s only a 10% genuinely happiness for you that you are moving on.. I’m sure that i’ll be completely and genuinely happy for you after a while. But it’ll be a long time before I’m there and right now everything just hurts..

Though yes, I was the one to end it, it was still the longest relationship I’ve had with many first and many memories so getting over it, isn’t easy for me. You say you stopped crying over it cause there is no use crying over spilt milk.. I don’t see it like that. All I saw was how hard I tried for us. I tried to help us get back to normal, after you got out of the hospital by trying to find different ways to for us to hang out despite your pain. Hell I even tried once to come down to visit despite waking up at 7 and going to class till 2 then drive the 2 hours to you and in the end I almost passed out on the highway on the 2 hour drive home. But in the end, all I get met with is you saying that none of it was enough. That you need that physical attention more and what I gave you wasn’t enough so you told me you have been thinking about breaking up or taking a break. You worded it so that you say that you only thought about it and you want my help to get over that. But we both know that I have been trying before that, and it was never enough. After you sent that text, I took a good hard look at the relationship and how you interacted with me and I can honestly say, that it felt like you didn’t love me as much anymore. Like I could kinda seeing you try and love me, but it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t like the way it used to be. And though I asked to break up then took it back, it was because I wasn’t sure how to end something that I needed to end but at the sametime didn’t want to. But the thing that did it for me was when you told me that you put the ring in the box of my stuff that you were going to give back to me. That was the final nail in the coffin that made me realize that you aren’t someone I should love but at the same time it’s something that haunts me.

You try to say that I moved on by dating someone else, but that wasn’t me moving on. It was more me trying to adjust to being alone again while craving a body to hold. But that someone wasn’t someone that I see a future with. They were just there at a time where I needed a person the most. I’m sorry. But the way that I love is that I love as hard as I can and I make that love run as deep as I can. I can still look back and see the exact moment in the relationship that someone stopped loving me. And even if it’s been years, when I talk to that person again, it just brings back all the memories. The good, the bad, even the ugly. And part of me questions about how my life would have been if we continued. I will never be able to do something like your ex-fiance, roommate because that position would kill me if I had to watch someone I used to love date other people because it kills me that I failed another relationship.. I mean, I know you were confused when I unadded you on facebook after I told you I needed space, but do you really need me around right now? I mean, why? Do you really want to rub it in my face that you moved on? I just don’t understand why.

But for the first time in my life, I don’t think i'm ready for an actual relationship for a bit. I want to focus a bit more on myself. Unlike you who said they weren’t ready as well and wanted to be alone a week prior to them confessing. But that’s just more me being bitter and lashing out right now..

One of the top reasons that I chose to end it with you was that I felt like you just stopped loving me or hell, maybe you never actually, genuinely “loved” me. And with how fast you moved on, I believe more and more now. It always felt like there was an asterisk attached to it when you told me you loved me. When I came down on Thanksgiving, despite you telling me not to anymore because you feel conflicted about us, then tell me the day before that you still wanted me to come down. Which I obliged, only to be met with you being distant sitting on a couch, caring more about a dog, than your “soulmate” that drove 2 hours to come see you. Hell you even told me when you were in the hospital that you didn’t care if I came down the following week because you had your ex-fiance, roommate with you and because he was able to be there all the time with you, despite knowing that I came down every week you were in the hospital except for 1 of the weeks..

Honestly there I saw a few problems before we became “official” but I thought that because you said you loved me, that it would all work out in the end. You shouldn’t tell someone you love them if you aren’t ready for a relationship yet. And you kept blaming me, saying that I was pushing for it, but if you genuinely love someone, wouldn’t you want nothing more than to be with them? Maybe you will delve into the relationship much faster with Him. There were other small problems I noticed but in the end, I felt like those small problems became worse after you got cancer and while you were in remission.

Then there is the most controversial part. When I say that you were emotionally abusive and manipulative, saying stuff like “this isn’t something my husband would do” or when I messed up or did something you didn’t like before we were “official” you would push the “allowed date” of us getting together, back further away. I know I messed up by lying to you about watching that show with Her but I didn’t lie with malicious intent. I lied because I didn’t want to anger you but that ended up blowing up to one of the biggest argument we had, but at the same time it wasn’t an argument because it was just you yelling. I felt like you made that lie feel bigger than it did. Then there was telling me that I couldn’t talk to my friends about the relationship or you would leave me and you snooping through my phone looking for things and making sure I don't talk about us. And then there was you telling me to stop being friend with Her. But you always claimed that you were justified in your reasoning for doing these things. It always left like you viewed me as monster and sometimes treated me like such. I Know that I still have a lot of problems that I still need to work on. I’m learning to be more relaxed and not as angry when something doesn’t go my way, I’m learning care less about what other people think about me. And most importantly the ability to genuinely loving myself. I know I’m far from perfect so i'm still trying to work on myself, but it feels like this is just who you are and you are satisfied with that.

You are completely different now than the person I fell in love with. You aren’t the kind person I thought you were. The way your life is going and your income choices is just different than your plans were when I met you and I just don’t recognize who you are anymore. Or maybe this is just who you have always been, but was better hidden away. I’m sure you don’t care about my thoughts and it was fairly obvious that you don’t care about my feelings when you flaunted about how you were excited that your guy was visiting, despite me not even asking at all. And I know I told you that I didn’t know what I want in a relationship when I broke up with you, but that was a lie. I knew exactly what I wanted and needed. I need someone who is a genuinely kind person, not to say that you weren’t kind, but compared to other people I know, I know that I want someone who looks at almost everything with positivity and love. I also want and need someone who can love me as much as I am going to love them and for us to be partners, enjoy the little things together, and grow. Which was something I didn’t feel that I got from you.

Even through all of this I want you to know, that I don’t hate you. Far from it, but at the same time not far enough.. But right now I have learned more about myself than I ever thought I would learn. I found myself and I know who I am now. So now I guess the only thing left for me to say is that.

I love you. I loved you.

Good Bye.

From,

#Open Letter #To You #Personal #Me #everything I needed to say #Good Bye #Happy Would Be One Year

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