#i am so sick of people hating 'humanized' depictions of abusers

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

Lmao what’s this? I’m back with more Creepypasta headcanons, this time for Eyeless Jack.

TW for the following: graphic descriptions of cannibalism/murder/gore, depictions of drug abuse, lacing food with sharp objects, body horror, and generally anything you’d expect from horror.

THERE ARE NO CENSORS BEYOND THIS POINT, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY DISTRESS CAUSED BY MY WRITING.

Eyeless Jack Headcanons

He/they

Obviously no longer human

Still has a humanoid-ish body

“Died” around 2011, physically 22

Dark gray skin with a faint blue-ish tint

His blood is black. Like it’s basically oil or tar now. Moves much slower and is thicker than normal blood. He hasn’t checked but he’s pretty sure all his organs share the same color and viscosity now. Like that one breed of chicken with black organs y’know?

Long ears

Lots of sharp teeth. Practically a shark mouth

3+ long black tongues depending on his mood and how well fed they are

Because of the multiple mouth appendages he has a soft lisp and often accidentally bites his tongues since they move involuntarily

Eyes are constantly leaking the black sludge. Clothing/face/belongings are always sticky

Constantly salivating the same substance, just thinner/more liquidy

Wears a surgical mask under his regular mask to combat it

Very good sense of smell

Seriously he could smell a specific blood type in the middle of a massacre of a shit ton of bodies

Can’t swim

Reddish-brown wavy hair, forgets to cut it sometimes so he sometimes has a fluffy mullet

Claws that can’t retract

Wears a black trench coat and dark gray turtleneck when actually going out and doing shit, the black hoodie is lounge clothes

Has a tail!!!! Closest resemblance to a lion tail, but larger

Lots of catlike/animal like behaviors unconsciously. Will sit on any elevated surface

Purrs like holy fuck the first time someone hears him do it they freak out

Can also growl and hiss

Despite the animalistic behaviors and feral demeanor he isn’t above being civilized

Mostly calm. Gets the zoomies after eating tho

And by zoomies I mean he’s more excitable and extroverted for a little while

Has probably ran around the woods like a maniac at least once tho

Besides Nurse Ann, he’s the most medically competent of the pastas. People usually go to him for more major injuries or sicknesses

Despite his constant orifice leakage he tries to be as clean as possible

His lab is SPOTLESS

somehow figured out a way to dilute his face goop to clean it better. No one knows how he does it tho

Is still very much a nerd. Loves reading any kind of book he can get his hands on

Starts going blind if he doesn’t satiate his hunger for flesh and organs

If he goes blind before getting food, he’s able to use echolocation pretty damn well

Can also see thermal outlines of stuff if his vision starts going

Eyes aren’t reflective so it’s pretty funny when he’s gargoyling somewhere in the manor in pitch black and someone walks in and gets startled by him sitting there staring into the void

HOW are his footsteps so silent

Dude you’re 5”8 and have a stockier build how do you not make floorboards creek

Can eat normal food, but poses no nutritional value to him

Can halfway survive off raw animal meat in emergencies, but doesn’t give him enough energy for long

Only fully kills someone about once a month, the rest of the time he’s able to meticulously and stealthily steal a kidney from unsuspecting victims without incident

Not that he hates killing or anything like that, he’s just as violent as the rest of the freaks

But he HATES the feeling of losing control he often gets when he indulges the violent urges. So he holds himself back most of the time

Besides murder and organ harvesting he often goes out to steal medical supplies from houses and smaller town clinics

Remember him being a nerd? Likes to impress people with gross biology trivia. Most are about the human body but he knows a ton of animal facts too

“Did you know flies and roaches can still live without their heads” type shit

Can’t cook for shit. He’s not allowed in the kitchen period after one of his organ jars exploded in the fridge due to air pressure bs. Ruined all the food in there

Stores his organs in four different mini fridges in his room and lab

Kidneys give him the most energy but he enjoys flesh more than organs when it comes to taste

His favorite is cheek meat and anything involving the neck

Loves to burst the carotid artery and mess around with the blood like a sprinkler toy

Gives the bones of any corpse he fully consumes to Slender. Has no idea what he needs the bones for but never cares to ask

Friends/close with Ben, Helen, Liu, Ann, Masky, and Hoody

Has a tolerable relationship with Jeff, Kagekao, Slenderman, the Puppeteer, Jane, and Clockwork

Doesn’t get along with/hates LJ and Nina

Sally is TERRIFIED of him. Y’know cause little kids are scared of the doctor and whatnot. He tries his best to be as unintimidating as possible when around her but she still prefers Ann over him

HATES being called EJ. It’s a horrible nickname. What if he walked up to you and called you legless Larry after cutting off your legs?

Abrosexual

Loves loves loves LOVES doing dissections/vivisections. Has somehow been able to convince or bribe the other undead and non human mansion inhabitants to let him do a vivisection on them at least once.

Ben enjoyed it the most because he’s a freak like that

“And this is your heart” “gross……. can I poke it” “yeah ok”

Is unfortunately able to understand the corrupt scripts of [REDACTED] thanks to the ritual that took his eyes and life. Tries his best to ignore it.

Nightmare haver! Is too stubborn to go to someone like Ben or Slender to get them less frequently even though both could easily help him

Kind of an insomniac anyways but since his face is almost always covered no one notices the eye bags

Usually takes the top layer mask off around his friends, or if the other masked pastas take theirs off around them as a sign of mutual trust

Surgical mask on their face stays on constantly unless eating or doing anything privately

Has to keep the meds locked up because Ben, Masky, and Jeff have drug problems

“STOP trying to get high off Benadryl it’s not even allergy season anymore you don’t need it”

Not a “dad” character he just doesn’t like wasting resources like that

Doesn’t care about the actual habits JUST STOP STEALING HIS MEDS

LJ for some reason keeps stealing any of his used needles and scalpels. Jack’s best bet is he puts the sharp objects in candy. Gross.

He’s befriended Seedeater the same way a zookeeper befriends a large dangerous animal

Both have a mutual understanding Seed is NOT a pet

It hasn’t even let them pet or touch it

Does follow him closely like a dog whenever he walks through the forest for any reason

Jack has witnessed it take down and decapitate a bear with a single bite before

If he ever has leftovers or parts of corpses about to go bad that they can’t eat himself, they feed it to Seed

Has a small collection of the black fur and feathers that naturally shed from Seed’s body

Also collects other odd things like animal bones or human teeth

His favorite weird thing they’ve collected is a taxidermied axolotl stolen from a victim’s home

Is also super blunt

Not out of malice, he just has a very technical straightforward way of thinking

Always asks anyone for consent when doing anything physical like medical procedures or even just nudging someone out of the way if he’s trying to get somewhere

HATES being touched without their permission or knowledge

Will bite if provoked. Will bite as a warning too

#in my top 3 #blorbo #eyeless jack #eyeless Jack headcanons #eyeless Jack HC #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #horror #headcanons #ej #eyeless jack creepypasta #creepypasta hcs

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that. 

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him. 

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things. 

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation. 

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit. 

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do). 

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster. 

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

#wolfstar #disability in fandom #disabled remus #crip remus #please write me some crip remus #I beg of you #fandom meta

[cherryriotcrash]

Shifting Pieces (Just Like My Stomach).

Rain's on in the city traffic puzzle, shifting pieces just like my stomach; we're both so upset.

Ao3 | Ko-Fi | Join the Taglist

Summary: Years of experience makes Shoto hard to lie to.

Chapter Warnings: gaslighting, manipulation, covert physical abuse, covert domestic violence, implied intent to cheat, abuse of power.

18+ | Minors and ageless blogs DNI

All characters depicted are mid 20s or older.

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Shoto settled into lab work with you and Tsu easily, the three of you forming a smooth team dynamic focused on your research and a mutual understanding that Touya was the human embodiment of an environmental stressor and banned from the lab. You three developed a high-low system; Shoto grabbed things up high, and you and Tsu would reach things lower to the ground for him depending on who was closer or had empty hands.

You were also the only one who could read his chicken scratch handwriting and volunteered to translate his writing into your neater script or type them up into notes for the binder, and he was faster with math than you, so you primarily used him as a calculator to double check your own math.

In fact, you’d just asked him to double check something for your notes, and while he was answering, he slipped his notebook over to you to transcribe.

“Where’s Tsu?”

“Out sick,” you replied without looking up, “got a nasty case of the flu. She’ll be out for at least the rest of the week, so it’s just you and me.” You looked around you for the binder transcribed lab notes,

“Hey, Sho? Can you grab the notes binder for me? I thought I pulled it, but I guess I didn’t.”

“Sure thing!”

You turned back to begin transcribing his notes when you felt a presence behind you, an almost too-warm body pressed against you. You looked up to see Shoto reaching on the shelf above you, pressed against your back as he reached for the binder, inadvertently trapping you between his body and the counter. You made a small noise, and Shoto’s eyes snapped down before jumping back, binder in hand.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t even think—”

“Sho, it’s fine!” You tried smiling reassuringly, “I was standing in your way. I should have moved before I asked.” As you began to duck from under his arm, you heard the keypad beeping and the door flew open with a bang. You and Shoto whipped around, and your heart stopped for a moment when you realized the source of the aggressive entry is Touya. You stand frozen to the spot, watching Touya’s face cycle through a range of emotions before shifting back into his well-practiced, cool demeanor.

“Aww, baby girl. What did I say about having too much fun with my baby brother?”

You tried to respond but found that your jaw seemed to have locked shut.

To anyone else, his tone was light and bouncy. To anyone else, he was clearly joking.

You, unfortunately, were not anyone else, and apparently neither was Shoto.

“That’s my fault.” he stepped to the side, binder in hand to pat his brother's shoulder, “I went to grab this binder from above her head.”

“Most people say excuse me.”

“They do,” Shoto said slowly, “but most people aren’t a foot taller than their counterparts. She was transcribing notes, and I figured this would be faster. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

Touya hummed and strode over to you. When his hand lifted, you tried your best not to move until it came down gently on the top of your head, smoothing your hair back, “That true, pretty girl?”

You nodded, tongue feeling as if was glued to the roof of your mouth. Touya traces his hand further back on your head to tilt your head up for a kiss, fingers intertwining in your hair and subtly tightening to the point of pain, “Good. I’d hate to think my brother had come in and caused problems for you.”

Touya presses his lips to yours for a moment and releases you, sauntering out of the office and slamming the door. You flinched when it slammed, trembling slightly and refusing to move.

“[Y/N]?” Shoto softly called out to you.

You jumped, then tried to compose yourself, “Uh, sorry about that Dr. Todoroki. Got a bit distracted.”

“That didn’t look distracted.” You turned towards him to see his brows furrowed, head tilted slightly, and his arms crossed, “Considering you’ve called me Dr. Todoroki for the first time since we’ve met, it seems more like Touya scared you. I saw that, you know.”

“Saw what?”

“He pulled your hair, didn’t he?”

You stared at Shoto blankly before moving around him to resume your note taking, “Please make sure to ask me to grab anything above my head to avoid any perception of impropriety in the future.”

“[Y/N] this needs to be repor—”

“Dr. Todoroki!” Shoto flinched at your tone, taken aback by the sudden change in your tone. It was no longer a practiced, careful propriety, but rather a panicked anger, comparable to a wounded animal. You sighed heavily, tears weighing down your eyelashes, “Drop it. I don’t know what you think you saw, but it’s nothing.”

Shoto nodded dumbly. You turned your back to him, and Shoto pretended not to notice the tremble in your hands as you continued transcribing. Silently, he excused himself to the restroom to give you a bit of space, only to run smack into Touya leaning against the wall near the restroom with a starry-eyed student staring up at him, hanging on his every word as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

Before he could stop himself, he’d already shouted Touya’s name and draped an arm over his shoulder, “Hey big brother, I thought you were teaching lectures today?”

He feigned a double take at the student, whose eyes had snapped to him on arrival and remained locked, her face turning a brighter shade of pink. He extended a large hand to her, “Are you one of Touya’s students?”

She nodded shyly as she shook his hand, “I’m Akari Yamamoto.”

He flashed her his brightest smile, “Well it’s very nice to meet you! I’m Dr. Shoto Todoroki, Touya’s younger brother. I work in the labs here doing genetics research. Are you a biology major as well?”

“Botany,” Touya interjected, barely disguising the annoyance in his voice, “I’m her microbiology instructor.”

“Interesting! Well, maybe Dr. [L/N] and myself will see you around the office soon, yeah? We’re going to be looking into plants as well as part of our cancer research.”

“Whose Dr. [L/N]?” she asked.

“Oh, she’s my research partner, lab supervisor, and Touya’s long term girlfriend. Brilliant woman, actually. If you like, I could introduce you— “

“That’s enough, Shoto. Ms. Yamamoto needs to scurry along to her next class.” He turns to the young woman, “Run along. I’ll see you at your 4pm class to finish answering your questions.”

The young woman bowed and turned around, rushing off to her next class. Touya waited until she turned the corner, then turned to face his youngest sibling, his voice dropping to a hiss, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem? You just snatched [Y/N] up because I reached over her head and you’re over here flirting with girls half your age?”

“Mind your business.”

“My research partner is my business. Your treatment of her directly impacts her work. She’s terrified to even be within three feet of me.”

“Good!” Touya spat, the words leaving his mouth faster than he could register them, “She should be, baby brother, and if I had my way you wouldn’t be in a lab together at all. Clearly her screening process was lacking some essential quality controls. Now, I’d recommend you get out of my face and do your job. One of us is tenured here, and the other is still within his probationary hiring period. It would be so awful if someone were to slip in an anonymous complaint about sexual harassment, now wouldn’t it?”

“That’s a threat. I’m going to HR.”

Touya laughed, “Good luck with that. I’m on very good terms with the head of the department, Keigo Takami. It’s me vs you, and you will lose. Everything. Now if you don’t mind, I’m late for my lecture.”

Touya turned on his heel and began to strut down the hallway towards his classroom, hands buried in his pockets to conceal clenched fists. Shoto popped into the restroom long enough to wash his face before returning to the lab, quietly reminding himself to order a stronger lock for the office door.

“Got your six, [Y/N]. Can you slide me that red research binder?”

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Taglist: @yukihime-mikeys-girl, @crescentkaze

#you are my home #cherie writes #Touya🧼 #Shoto❄️🔥 #mha #bnha #YAMH #tw: emotional manipulation #tw: domestic violence #tw: cheating

[bibbykins]

Retroactive Redamancy (M)

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC. This fic does have some darker scenes which I will detail in the warnings. This fic wasn’t as difficult for me to write, but we all have different triggers, so please take care of yourself first above all else. On a lighter note, I am extremely happy to be finishing the soft yandere series. Is this the last of my soft yandere fics or this au? Absolutely not, I have a ton of fun writing yandere and this au, but I am also looking forward to the other fics I plan on posting. All of my wips have some yandere elements, but in varying degree. I hope you will continue to support me and have a great day/night and stay safe in these trying times!

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 11.9k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Hoseok x reader

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, graphic descriptions of domestic abuse (not done by Hoseok), graphic descriptions of injury on the mouth/tongue, mentions of trauma, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of puke, penetrative sex, cunnilingus, cumming inside *** all sexual acts mentioned are consensual ***, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship

Summary: You both swore you would never see each other again. It’s funny how fate works, even when you have to go through hell to make it work. His house was just a random house as you stumbled out of a cab, blood pooling in your mouth. You had no expectations for him to catch you when you fell, and most importantly, protect you when you needed it most. He sat you on his throne and called himself your knight. Is it wrong of you to love him again for it? Is it wrong of him to keep you? Is it wrong of you to want to be kept? 

The act of loving back.

It was the way he looked at you. It was the way he made you feel like the only one in his world and him the only one in yours. It was love. But that's the tricky thing about two people loving one another. One person can decide it is no longer a shared love. In a split second, it is unrequited.

---

“I-I don't understand.”  Your bottom lip quivered as Hoseok stood in front of you. In any other situation, he would've knelt down and consoled you, but this was an outlier in that pattern, “You said you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life.”

“For the rest of my life here.” He gestured to your hometown surrounding both of you, “Now I have to go back to my life.”

His life? But this was his life. Right?

He said you were his world and now he couldn’t wait to explore another universe, any universe away from you.

That's when it hit you. All you did was keep him company as he studied abroad. He was a college sophomore testing out the waters of a new country, and you were a high school senior, browsing for college and falling head over heels for this man the past nine months.

"You must have a lovely girlfriend at home, huh?" He remained silent, guilty. You let out a breathy laugh, “Oh, I see.” You sighed, the tears finally toppling over and hitting your cheeks, “You're scared to be alone.” He remained silent, “What kind of man are you back home that you call this here a different life?” Guilty silence, “I love you, and you don't know a damn thing about me I bet.” Your lip quivered, "That's what I get for being the other woman." You spit the words out, more angry with yourself.

“You're angry, I get it.” He spoke softly as he reached for your hand and you recoiled sharply, “You hate me.”

“I'm hurt.” You snapped, looking him in his eyes full of guilt, “I could never hate you, just like you could never love me. Just like how you refuse to tell me where home is for you. Just like how you refuse to tell me about your family. Just like how you refuse to fall in love because you are so afraid of the other person not catching you. Well, I have just hit the ground, and I hope you're fucking ecstatic.” Your tears didn't hinder your words but made them hit harder in Hoseok’s eyes. 

You were always so observant. He wondered where life would take you with that talent. Where you wanted to go with that talent. He made sure he never knew.

You were only in high school. You were just 18. You would forget him.

“I can't believe how much I love you.” You sighed, “I'm so fucking pathetic. I'm sick of this.” You sniffed and he braced himself for the final proclamation of hate, “You have a great life in mystery land with a mystery girl and achieve all the things you want to with your mystery major, and I will do the same, okay?”  You took a deep breath, “Do great things in life.” You told him before turning on your heel and walking away.

It would have been easier on the both of you if you hated him.

----

Hoseok was now in his first year of graduate school. He was the director of human resources at a large company. He was wealthy, smart, and he loved to have company, even if it was not his ideal companion. There was a certain whisper from his past that kept him awake after an exhausting one nightstand.

The void in his heart was semi-filled as he stuffed his dick inside someone else. Hoseok had established a pattern of getting a secretary into bed and then the secretary would quit once their declaration of love was effectively denied. He could not admit to himself why he rejected each confession, but he knew it had to do with a certain girl he had denied himself further access too at an attempt toward redemption. Despite this unspoken wound on his heart, he was expecting to do the same cycle of his with his soon to be former secretary Jiyeon on this cold night until he heard a knock on his door, a persistent one.

“Give me one second.” He pecked the girl's neck at the table, expecting it to be the groceries he ordered.

Upon opening the door, Hoseok found something else. He found a girl with a thin sweater and sweatpants shaking. She had a face mask and her eyes were downcast. 

When you heard the door open you looked up, “H-Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?” You were baffled, “I-I didn't know you live here, but I need a favor.” He knew who you were. He knew the way his name came from your lips. He knew how the syllables roll off your tongue.

Hoseok drew a breath, trying to make sure he was living and breathing at this moment. He couldn’t imagine he had been dreaming about you this time. All his dreams of you were blissful. Although, this setting of you needing something from him could very well be in his dreams. 

It was really you. The not so forgotten dream girl he abandoned in favor of his fear of commitment. You looked different. You looked hurt. What were you doing here? How did you even get here? Why were you here after years of being apart?

You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of relief and dread. On one hand, Hoseok was a sore spot in your romantic history, but he was officially the best boyfriend you’ve had, albeit, by default. On the other hand, you were in pain and you wanted nothing more than to cry and be coddled, but feeling secure that this man would not hurt you physically was enough.

It was really him. The man who turned his back on you. The man who was still as beautiful as the day he left you, but now was absolutely not the time to focus on that,  “I need to use a phone or charge mine.” You squeaked and Hoseok looked at you in bewilderment, and you assumed it was due to not recognizing you, “It's y/n.” You offered but he was still stunned, as you saw a beautiful woman linger behind him, “Look, I don't care who you're fucking right now, please let me in.” Your voice was quaking, desperate. He had never heard it like this before.

 He stepped to the side as you scurried in, “Jiyeon, leave.” The girl balked and he turned to her with a stern eye, “Go.” The girl scoffed as she slammed the front door behind her.

“Where's the bathroom?” You immediately asked, bottom lip beginning to tremble as the pain set in.

“Y/n, what-" He had so many questions

“Later, I promise,” Your voice shook as your body still was, “Bathroom, please.” Your mouth sounded full almost and Hoseok studied you to find a line of red down your neck. 

It was dried blood, but upon further inspection not all of it was dry.

“You're bleeding!”  He spoke incredulously as he went to take your mask off. You wanted to fight it, but you were exhausted, “Don't even think about fighting me. You're hurt.” He read your mind as he pulled the mask down with a steady hand. The mask revealed a busted lip and a cut tongue that was now oozing blood, “Holy shit!” The man went to grab a rag as he held it to your lip, “What the fuck happened?!” He led your shaky legs over to a barstool in his kitchen.

You sat down, slumped over, looking at the rag to see small amounts of blood blotting the fabric. You were no longer gushing. That was good, “I didn't know where else to go.” You were muffled against the cotton, “This was the first place I could find. I had no idea you would- you would be here.”

Hoseok took a look at you. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your cheeks were stained with pure tears. Your nose had traces of blood on the nostrils. Your hands were bruised with open slices that stopped bleeding. Your shirt was torn on the stomach and shoulder. Your feet only had socks on them as your sweatpants had even more dry blood.

Hoseok shuddered at the thought of what happened. He wondered if someone did it. The notion made his blood boil. He took a look at your hand and saw an engagement ring. His blood was no on fire. It didn't take a genius to see what happened. To put two and two together.

You followed his eyes and scoffed, “Pretty, huh?” You mused, lifting your finger up, “You should feel it when someone makes you slice your tongue on it.” You spoke flatly as Hoseok wet a paper towel to clean your chin.

You let go of the rag, the blood now dry and finished pouring out, “What happened?” Hoseok asked softly as you sighed.

“I have poor, poor taste in men.” You sniffled,” No offense.” You offered to the man in front of you,  “I am a victim of my poor judgment.” You sighed, and coughed as the thickness of your own blood sliding down your throat before it finally hit you, “Holy shit that hurts.” Your hand stroked your throat as Hoseok caught glimpse of faded bruises along your neck.

“How… How are you here?” He pressed a cold hand to your neck and you flinched before relaxing against his touch.

“Alive or in your home?” You giggled before coughing, “Sorry, not funny.” You breathed a small sigh as a wet cloth began to wipe away the blood that dripped onto your neck, “I went to University in Ilsang about two years ago. I fell for a man who could never love me, call me a creature of habit, but his parents did love me. I am quite the parent charmer, so he proposed, we moved just outside of the city, and began to plan the wedding.” Your cocky smile fell as you wiped a drop of blood from your mouth, “But the funny thing about being the girl of his parents' dreams almost always means I am not the girl of his.” Hoseok could feel his body heating in rage, “She is sexier, wild, and full of life, so she tried to take mine away, much to his approval.” You felt a tear try to squeeze past your swollen eye, “Call me a pacifist, but I prefer to be broken up with rather than beat.” Hoseok could finally see your face now with all the blood gone. You hadn't changed much, still as beautiful as the day he met you, “I won't bore you with the gore, but it was without purpose. I got a job in the city here as well as a scholarship for the university, so I was planning to leave anyway. However, running from my old apartment covered in blood and begging a taxi to take me as far as he can is not how I planned to make the move.”

“You mean she attacked you and he just let it happen?” Hoseok clenched the cloth in his hand.

“He… uh, held me down.” You shivered, all feigned strength and nonchalance absolved as you realized the gravity of your situation. You were homeless, beaten, and your job didn't begin until after the New Year thanks to a paid holiday break you still got compensated for, and now felt extremely thankful for, “God, this is so fucking crazy."

“We need to call the police!” Hoseok, in contrast to you, was fuming. How someone could ever lay a hand on you is something he would never care to understand. He just wanted to see them burn.

“No point.” You sighed for the nth time of the night. You opened your mouth to elaborate but was cut off by your own coughing as the blood in your tongue tried to make its way down your throat again. 

Hoseok didn't hesitate in putting his hand in front of your mouth. He felt your blood splatter onto his hand, “God, give me his name.” He murmured as you coughed into his hand.

“I'm sorry.” You coughed again, before pulling away from his hand, “That is so gross.” You looked to his bloodied hand.

There was something almost primal with the way Hoseok felt the need to take care of you. No matter how many years went by or the amount he fucked up with you, his instinct to keep you safe has not changed, much to his dismay. Throughout the years, he did his best to stay away from you, but he found himself more than horrified by the result of this.

You were in his kitchen, beaten and coughing blood into his hand. He was trying to remain calm as he wet a towel to wipe your neck, but his knuckles turned white on the sink when he turned the faucet. He needed to know the names of the people who did this. He needed to tear them down.

Hoseok brought a white rag into your neck and the cooling sensation of the water made your eye flutter closed in bliss. He savored the moment of your care-free look. He missed it. He carefully rid your neck of your caked-on blood and he was happy to see your beautiful skin again.

You let him brush the rag against the corners of your mouth and on your cheek, cleaning you. He turned the rag to a clean side and pushed your cheeks lightly opening your mouth. You got the hint and reluctantly stuck your tongue out, but the feeling of the cool cloth on your wounded tongue made up for it.

You were beautiful, even more so now that he could see your face, “There you are.” He murmured, “Doesn’t look like your face will bruise.” He mused as he cleaned your tongue, “Tongues heal pretty quick and the cut isn’t too deep either.” His first aid training from last month was proving pretty useful.

“You think so?” You asked him before looking into his eyes.

Hoseok returned your look. His face lit up as your innocent eyes looked for confirmation. In your eyes, Hoseok could see all that he denied himself. He could see the number of times you cried without him there, the times you giggled and he wasn't there to tease you on how cute it was, and the times you proclaimed to love someone who didn't deserve it. But no more. Hoseok had you here now, and he was dead set on keeping it that way. You were the one.

Hoseok was always so warm, and his eyes showed as much when he returned your gaze with the same smile that made your heartbeat, “You'll be just fine.” He touched your cheek softly and you relaxed fully for the first time this whole night.

There was something about his affirmation that made you feel like everything would be okay. You would start your new job and be the person you always wanted to be. You would be more than a beaten girl on your ex’s front porch. You would be able to close your eyes and wake up to a new day. This night will be in the past one day. You have a future ahead of you. These are all the things that seemed impossible hours ago. These are all the things Hoseok reminded you of in just four words. 

With this in mind, you decided it was time to let go of tonight. Let go of the pain and the suffering for just a moment.

You felt your bottom lip tremble and you let it happen as you felt your chest give as you let the sob jump out of your mouth. You let go of the rag you held and gripped the soft shirt Hoseok was wearing and pressed your forehead against his chest. You took a deep breath and felt the long-withheld tears pour down your cheeks as you hiccuped and sobbed against his chest.

If Hoseok wasn't so in love with you, he would think you were breaking down. However, he knew better. You were still his y/n after all. This is how you rebuilt. This is how you let go and face the future. This is how you heal. You express emotion in the most physical way you can. You find peace in watching the pain dry from your eyes. 

He wrapped your arms around you as you cried into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life, “You never change.” He mused as your shoulders shook, “Still my strong girl, even after all this time.” He stroked your hair as you sniffled.

You had stayed like this for a while. You let hell loose on Hoseok’s shirt. For a moment, it was like you were together again. It was as if you went back with him instead of all those years ago. You went to school with him and moved in with him. You would flaunt the love you two shared in glee as you spent your life with your first love. There would be no one else. Just him.

While this fantasy was nothing but, at this moment, you remembered how right it felt to be in his arms. Maybe you had been obsessed with him these past few years. Maybe you still loved him like you were still a teenager

Little did you know, he often dreamt of the possibility. 

“I-I thought I was gonna die there!” You sobbed.

Hoseok only held you tighter, unable to even bear the thought, “I'm never letting you go, y/n.” He cooed, “You have to know that.” 

A possibility that no longer seemed too out of reach.

Hoseok held you for hours before he felt your grip relax and your breathing even. Your weight was fully on him and he was happy to see you trusting him enough at this moment to fall asleep. To feel safe enough to rest. He wondered when the last time was that you slept peacefully. 

You stayed in this position until he was sure you were asleep. He lifted you in his arms as your head drooped against his shoulder. He carried you to his bedroom with the lightest step as he laid you down. 

Not one to overstep boundaries too much, Hoseok opted to sleep on the couch after tucking you in. He laid down and he wondered about all the ways he could make that bastard ex of yours pay. 

You woke up purely on your own. No alarm. No paranoia. No nightmare. Just your internal clock, which you were delighted to find was still functioning. You opened your eyes and yes, everything hurt, but you were still comfortable. 

You sat up, and that's when everything really hurt. You cried out as you put your hand to your aching head. Crying always gave you a headache. Paired with the beating from last night, your head was hell.

Hoseok raced down the hall to get to you. You looked up to see him out of breath and holding a bottle of water with a small pill in his hand, “Be careful!” He softly scolded as he handed you the pill and unscrewed the cap on the bottle.

You took the bottle from him as you popped the pill marked with the brand of a painkiller into your mouth before drinking the water. You had only then just realized how thirsty you were and began gulping it.

“Hey, hey slow down.” Hoseok’s hand lightly caressed your nape and you slowly put the bottle down, now half empty.

“Sorry, my-” You winced, your tongue proving to be quite sensitive.

“Talk lightly, you’re healing.” Hoseok cooed and for a moment you were brought back to the ridiculous reality you were brought into. You were in your first love’s bed alone after being nearly killed by your ex-fiance's side-chick. Now, the man who broke your heart was nursing you back to full health and treating your wounds. You wondered if you would wake up soon from this fever dream. Although, the pain on your tongue told you this was all too real.

“My throat was raw.” You with your tongue barely touching your mouth, making your speech much slower, “Is what I was trying to say.”

“I figured as much, you had a rough night to say the least, sweetheart.” Hoseok smiled at you reassuringly, “But here we are, a new day, a new chapter.” He gestured around him, “Now, your phone has been going off quite incessantly since I charged it, is there anyone that you were hoping to hear from?” 

You thought for a moment. You moved to South Korea on your own and the only friend you made became your fiance, now ex. His mom would call from time to time, but no way were you talking to her. Your family was long gone, so that’s out of the question. All you had was your new job, but it was a Saturday morning. You shook your head.

“Do you mind if I look at who it is?” He asked and you shook your head, the pounding of it having now subsided, letting the light vibrations of your phone on the nightstand register in your eardrum. Hoseok reached over and took your severely cracked phone into his slender hand, “Who is Oh Sookwang?” He asked, noticing the way you tensed up, “Ah, so that’s his name.” He noted as part of the work that he needs to get done once the workweek begins.

“Wh-What did he say?” You asked hesitantly. Hoseok also hesitated as he scrolled through the texts he sent, “Is it bad?”

“It’s certainly bad for him.” His voice was much colder now with his eyes transfixed on the phone, “It seems he wants to know if you’re dead.” He spoke flatly, “He also wants the ring back for Minyoung.”

You scoffed, unsure of what you expected. You clenched your fist and felt the gold band of the ring dig into your finger. The diamond has specks of your blood dried onto it by now. He probably didn’t even want it for Minyoung. It was probably going to serve as a trophy for another woman broken under their hands. It was a sign of the torment they were capable of inflicting with all the money and the power their feuding parents could give them. You ripped the ring off your finger before throwing it across the room. 

Hoseok watched as the diamond fell out of the ring and onto his bedroom floor. He rolled his eyes at how cheap of a ring this other man dared to present to someone so extremely out of his league. 

“The world is just going to keep turning under his discretion, isn’t it?” Your upper lip twitched in rage.

Hoseok leaned down and kissed the top of your head, “Not while I’m around.”

You looked up at the man who stood before you, “His family is powerful, and so is hers, it’s useless.”

Hoseok chuckled lightly before ruffling your hair, “Look around, babe, I’m powerful.” 

----

It had been a little more than a week before you agreed to stay with Hoseok. On one hand, he was your first love and heartbreak but on the other hand, you had nowhere else to go. The apartment you planned to move to was detected by Sookwang and for your safety, you decided to not sign the lease. Not like Hoseok would let you.

It had been almost a month since that night now. Your company extended your leave due to the circumstances you were faced with and Hoseok arranged his schedule so he could stay home until you went to work.

He had been quite the caretaker. A doctor he trusted came to make a housecall and gave you a clean bill of health, meaning no broken bones or internal bleeding. You screamed the first time he touched you, so you had to hold Hoseok's hand throughout his assessment. The trauma of it all had not hit you until another stranger had to touch you. Hoseok offered to take you to a counselor but you declined, not ready to say it out loud yet. Even so, you eventually did see someone for coping practices and a diagnosis you had already known.

Being with him again was nostalgic in its own way. Sometimes it felt like catching up with an old friend but then other days it felt like you were picking up right where you left off. Of course, you knew you had no business getting into another relationship after just ending an engagement. In reality, though, the engagement ended long ago, you had just stayed around like a loyal punching bag.

“I forgot how good of a cook you were.” You smiled at Hoseok and the fact you could speak without feeling an ache, “You've only gotten better too, no fair.” You pouted at him.

Hoseok took off his apron, moving to join you at the table, “It's just chicken parmesan, not rocket science.” He ruffled your hair, “Cutie.”

You looked at the man across from you and smiled at the way he settled in, “So, tomorrow you go back to work, right?” You asked as you shoveled the food into your mouth.

“Yes, but I could very easily-” You pouted at him reusing the same line. 

“No.” You reiterated, “We are both working tomorrow, remember?” Hoseok closed his mouth in defeat. You had made a good case about needing to return to work and move on this past week that he could not deny, “Be excited, it's cementing this new start.” You smiled reassuringly.

His face softened at you beaming grin and he smiled back, defeated, “I am excited, just worried.” He sighed.

You knew why. He was scared of you getting hurt or your ex trying to finish his lover's job, “You already reported them, so it's okay.” Hoseok nodded at your words, happy with how calm you were now compared to when you found out what he had done.

That was a rough day. You turned on the news to see the fall of Sookwang’s family corporation and Minyoung also went from heiress to most wanted. They were both under investigation for the attempted murder of an unknown female and embezzlement. There had been outside corporate lawyers and criminal lawyers called to the case. You screamed and cried that day, Hoseok taking the brunt of your misdirected anger. You feared taking the stand and that's what really drove your tantrum.

Hoseok grimaced at the memory, protective instincts kicking in, “You could at least tell me where you work or your job.” He grumbled.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I told you I will.” You pointed your fork at him, “After a week, because otherwise you will show up or send someone to not so discreetly watch me.” You watch Hoseok slump, guilty, “And you will tell me all about your job then so I don't run to you whenever I get scared.”

“But I want you to run to me if you get scared.” He pouted this time, “I can't bear the thought of you being alone.”

“I can just call you, doofus.” You reached you his hand across the table and watched as he relaxed at the contact, “If I make you my crutch, I will only prove people like Sookwang and Minyoung right.” You mused sadly, “I gotta be better than that.”

Hoseok bit his tongue. He wanted to say that you were miles above scum like them. He would kill them with his bare hands if he didn't have the basic human rationale he cultivated ever so slightly. His morals weren't there, but he couldn't take care of you behind prison bars and he couldn't take you away into hiding and still make you happy. He also couldn't incite violence in fear of you comparing him to Minyoung. He had weighed his options very heavily and was extremely grateful he had the power to ensure the legal system would not fail you. With this, he chose to discipline scum with proper justice and corporate murder.

“You already are.” Hoseok squeezed your hand and stared into your eyes. The feelings he had just looking at you was hard to contain. He would give anything to kiss you again and have you as his, but he knew you wouldn't believe the time was right.

“Thank you.” You stared back at him with an almost equal amount of love and care. You were on your way to the right time. He just knew it.

“I'm sorry that I ever left you.” Hoseok blurted out as you began shaking your head.

You stopped him from speaking any further, “I'm glad you did.” You cut him off, “I needed this all to happen to be who I am now.” You smiled a bit, “It's clichè to say, I know, but before yesterday I considered not taking this job just because I was scared people would be mean.” You mused, “But I lived and at some point loved a man who literally wanted me dead, so what more could a disgruntled coworker or a mean boss do to me?” You picked at the pasta briefly, “I was much too spoiled before all of this. Everything I had was handed to me.”

Hoseok's face scrunched up, “You're the most hardworking person I know.” He spoke up, “You work for everything you get and you still deserve more than that.” 

“These past two years, I would wake up and feel ashamed for breathing.” You felt the pressure in your eyes, “I felt bad that I was still alive because I was causing all of this trouble.”

“None of that was your fault.” Hoseok gripped your hand tightly, “You were not the bad guy in that situation.”

“And logically, I know that, but it just gets to you after a while. Except for today,” You finally looked up at Hoseok and beamed just a little, “I woke up and I didn't even notice the pain, I looked out the window and saw a beautiful day. You smiled at me and everything was okay.” You watched as his signature smile grew, “I wasn't just an abuse victim, for the first time, I felt like a survivor.”

“You are.” He confirmed with and encouraging squeeze.

“And if being one means all this shit had to happen, so be it.” You affirmed to both Hoseok and yourself, “These next few days are gonna be rough, but Dr. Lin says I'm getting better at shaking his hand without shaking the rest of my body.” You giggled a bit before looking at your hand, Hoseok stroking the tan line where your ring used to be.

“The moment you feel uncomfortable, come home.” Hoseok pleaded, “You told them what happened, right?”

You sighed with a nod, “Yeah, they got the emails Dr. Lin drafted and they were actually really kind about it.”

“Good, but even if they weren't, you could work with me.” He offered for the millionth time and you rolled your eyes, “I know, I know, I just want to make sure you're safe and happy and eating right and hydrated and-”

“I am capable of doing so by myself too.” You pointed your fork at him, “I really appreciate you, Hobi, but you have to trust me.” 

Hoseok rested his case in favor of how happy you looked to start this mysterious new job and the fact that his old nickname slipped from your lips for the first time in years. You knew how to play him like a fiddle and had no idea. The last thing he would want was for you to hate him so he even opted to not research you to figure out what your job was. All you said was that you were freelance before they hired you which gave him nothing.

The next morning you woke up at the crack of dumb. In the mirror, you checked your tongue, the wound healed and the uncomfortable stitches you had a week ago fully dissolved. The whole incident felt like a distant nightmare now. All marks from it fully healed, and now only the scars remained. 

You heard Hoseok walking down the stairs, most likely to start the coffee before making breakfast. You had been staying in his guest room, for the time being, your bathroom was in the hall and he could see the light under the door, indicating you were awake. He had offered you the other bedroom with its own bathroom, but you wanted to get used to leaving your room a little more. 

It had been a long while since you put on makeup with a motivation revolving around self-care and confidence as opposed to masking clumps of busted vessels and capillaries lingering beneath your skin. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as you applied eyeliner and checked your work in the mirror. There was something therapeutic about painting your face with a much lighter intent. You were excited, and for the first time in a while, you could feel your nerves buzzing and the butterflies in your stomach blooming from their cocoon. 

You also hadn't put this much effort into your hair this entire time. Hoseok would sometimes brush your hair after a shower, mostly out of habit from when both your hands had been wrapped up. However, beyond that, it was kept in its natural state, which you figured was mediocre at best when paired with your naked and bruised face at the time. Hoseok always talked about how beautiful you were, but this was the first time in a while you felt anywhere close to it.

There were no bruises on your face, your dark circles were not even half the horror they used to be, you didn't even have to slather foundation and concealer in an effort to cover an open wound. Your face had never felt so soft, scabs no longer present. You looked at your finished look and squealed to yourself. You looked nice. Your clothes were also stylish, in typical Hoseok fashion, he had surprised you with a new wardrobe beyond all protests, and you couldn't deny how nice it all looked on you. You had called him ridiculous for approaching you with a measuring tape, but the fit was no joke with how it hugged your figure.

“Breakfast is ready!” He called from downstairs and you smiled, excited to show him how you looked.

You nearly pranced down the stairs and to the kitchen to see Hobi with his back turned, getting coffee, “Oh y/n, did you want-” He turned around and was met with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, “Holy shit.”

To him, you were always beautiful, but you were glowing this time due to your chipper mood. You smiled brightly at him as he took in your appearance. From the stylish high waisted black slacks with a flowy lavender blouse. The black pumps you had only accentuated your confident stature. Your face had light traces of makeup, but it had been growing to be more and more radiant. He took note of the necklaces you wore to compliment your skin complexion. Everything you were fit you so well, his mind was plagued by sinful thoughts of taking them off.

You weren't holding up well either. Hoseok was stunning no matter what, but this was the first time in a long time you had seen him in a suit. His hair was styled perfectly with his brown hair tousled in waves. His suit was well-fitting and the dress shirt managed to outline his muscles. The rings he had on next to his watch made you weak in the knees for some inexplicable reason. The glasses he wore only added to his sugar daddy aesthetic. Were you a gold digger or in love with this man?

You blinked away the question once you registered his profanity, “Is that a good holy shit?” You teased as you sat in front of the plate he set on the table.

“You're a goddess.” He groaned and you giggled, while he walked over with two coffee cups.

“And you're exaggerating.” You poked his nose before picking up your fork, catching sight at the tan line on your ring finger.

Hoseok watched your smile drop a little, “Y/n, are you alright?” His face showed very evident worry.

You looked up, snapping out of your trance, “Yeah, just this dumb tanline.” You huffed, “It's so blatant.”  You held up your hand to Hoseok, although he knew about the line all too well.

“I can put a ring on your finger.” You choked on your coffee at Hoseok's blunt words, “Y/n!” He made a move to stand and help you but you shook your head as you coughed.

“People will think I'm engaged.” You regained composure, “They'll ask me all kinds of questions.”

Hoseok would be lying if he said that was a bad thing. This would keep any intruders into your relationship with him away. This would keep you closer to him. He shrugged, “Engaged or not,” He placed a quaint box on the table, “I already bought the ring so…” He pushes the box toward you with a cheeky smile, “It's winter now, so you can just wear it until it fades.”

You chuckle as you take the box, “This might be more romantic than my proposal.” You joked, “He spelled it out in roses with candles around it.”

“You hate roses.” Hoseok pointed out and you nodded with an eye roll, “You know what?” He grabbed the blue velvet box and went around the table. Before you could ask what he was doing, he knelt down on one knee, taking your hand, “Y/n L/n, will you stay with me?”

You giggled, “I would be honored.” He beamed at you as he opened the box to reveal and black diamond with two smaller traditional ones on each side with a silver band which he slid on your finger, “I used to dream about this in high school.” You admired the ring, “I had a whole dream board for our future wedding.” 

Hoseok chuckled at this, “You really loved me, huh?”

You frowned as he stood to go back to his side of the table. Without thinking you gripped his hand, making him turn back to you, “I'll always love you, Hobi.” The words jumped out of your mouth before you could even consider the weight they held and the terrible timing it was. Your ex wasn't even in prison yet. His sentencing had yet to come and here you were like a blushing schoolgirl pining after Hoseok all over again.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was over the moon. He knew it, but to hear you say it was a new experience in and of itself. You were almost there. Almost ready for him to have you. For you to have him. He saw the worry creep on you face and then dissolve when he gripped your hand back, “And I, you.” He simply said before kissing your knuckles and then returning to his seat.

When it came time for you to go via the driver Hoseok insisted on you having, he hugged you tightly, “Call me if you feel anything other than excitement.” He let out a shaky breath before letting you go from his embrace to grip your shoulders, “Text me whenever you can just how you feel, okay?”

You smiled at him reassuringly, “If I get a papercut, I'll let you know the moment I put a bandage on.” You proclaimed dramatically and Hoseok whined, “I will call you if I need to, okay?” He nodded, “Do you trust me?” Another nod. You cupped his face before bringing it down to kiss his forehead softly. When he lifted his face it was dusted with a light brush, “Have a good day at work.” 

Hoseok took the chance to kiss your forehead this time, “You have the greatest day at work.” He spoke softly and you nodded before exiting through the front door.

Coming back to work was always a sore spot for him, but now that he had you back, it felt even worse. He was already missing you. On top of that, Jiyeon had quit so he had to be his own secretary for a while. He wondered how Taehyung did it for so long. Due to this new workload, he had no idea what his schedule was.

Hoseok looked up as he heard a knock on the glass door of his office. He always kept the blinds down, so he blindly let the visitor in with a call. Namjoon emerged with an exasperated look on his face, “You forgot, didn't you?” When he received Hoseok's response if an eyebrow raise he sighed, “Our fully recovered CEO is having a meeting with all the department heads with our newly wrangled Behavioral Scientist.” An ignorant blink, “The dude is like your new right-hand man Mr. Director of Human Resources.” 

“Oh right!” Hoseok stood, “Our expert in body language for sitting in on interviews.” He nodded, “What's his name again?”

Namjoon shrugged, “Who knows, but CEO Kim said he read her like a diary she was so impressed.” He smirked, “Maybe he’ll smell what an HR nightmare you are right off the bat.”

Hoseok walked over to the door Namjoon stood in the way of, “Hey, hey, I'm a changed man, remember?” He walked out of his office with his colleague, “I have all I need at home.”

His friends teasing tone dissipated as he remembered the shaking girl he encountered just a week ago, “Oh, that's right, how is she?” Namjoon asked, genuinely concerned.

“Better.” Hoseok smiled at his friend, “She starts her new job today, and she's been doing a lot better.”

Namjoon nodded, “When we all met her, she did real well.” He sighed, “Not sure how anyone would ever want to hurt her, but that guy's as good as dead anyway.”

“That much I made sure of.” Hoseok confirmed.

“Jeez, you sound like Tae and Jimin.” Namjoon laughed.

“Just you wait until it's your turn.” Hoseok teased as they reached the conference room to be met with the other five of his friends which was weird since three of them were not higher-ups in the company.

“And I thought this was a director only meeting.” Namjoon mused.

“She said she wanted her favorite boys here.” Taehyung smiled, “This new hire seems to have her struck, said she sees em as another child already.”

“She's too caring for her own good sometimes, watch this dude be some discount medium who claims he can read aura's.” Yoongi scoffed.

“She's not one to be wowed by parlor tricks.” Jin pointed out.

“She has been on morphine for the past couple days though.” Jungkook pointed out.

“You guys give her no credit.” Jimin sighed, “She's still a businesswoman.”

“But she's also a human who extended Hoseok's holiday leave because so that he could stay with his angel.” Yoongi chimed back in.

“Well, I'm excited nonetheless.” Hoseok sat down as Namjoon did before hearing the door open.

CEO Kim walked in with a warm smile, “Hello, boys!” The old woman in her late 60's cheered and was met with a chorus of greetings, “Lovely of you all to make it here. I've been healing just fine before you ask.” She looked at Taehyung in particular, “Gonna take more than some kidney surgery to get me down.” She joked with a light giggle, “Anyways, I'm absolutely pleased to introduce our new addition to HR as the Employment Analyst," She looked out the door, “Come on in, dear.”

You walked through the door, palms already warm. You looked down for a moment, “Good morning!” You lifted your head only to be met with awfully familiar faces, “Oh my.”

“Y/n!” Jungkook was the first to chirp as the other men were completely floored.

The CEO smiled cheerfully, “You know her? Perfect!” She clasped her hands, “My dear here has had a rough adjustment, so do make her feel welcome!” You graciously smiled at the sweet old woman.

“H-Hey guys.” You twiddled your thumbs, “Fancy meeting you here.” You smiled weakly. 

“Y/n, here is a student and is here to help our HR find and keep only the best of the best.” The CEO beamed brightly, “Anyways, she will be working will be working for Mr. Jung.”

You looked at Hoseok and he gave you his signature smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

After the meeting was adjourned, Hoseok made his way to you with the same smile he had before, "You're fantastic." He patted your head affectionately and you giggled.

"You're too much." You stuck your tongue out, "I'm going to go set up my office." You smiled before exiting the conference room with quaint smiles and bows to the remaining 6 other men in the room. The company was eccentric, to say the least, but at least you had familiar faces to rely on.

"You know, you are surprisingly relaxed." Yoongi mused, catching Hoseok's attention.

Hoseok was even then, only partly paying attention as he was caught up in his lovelorn bliss, "Well, of course, why wouldn't I be?" He sighed.

The other men exchanged looks, "Do you not know your reputation?" This snatched Hoseok back to Earth.

"Yeah, she's definitely going to find out," Jungkook added, earning a glare.

Even so, Hoseok knew the men were right. You would not be pleased to find out about his promiscuity, especially in the workplace. You would have every right to be angry, but he still hoped you would understand that he was only trying to fill a void he created by abandoning you. He was a new man.

"That, plus you have secretaries to interview today." Taehyung chimed in, "My darling was kind enough to call them in after Jiyeon called me, hysterical, before quitting." He shot a glare to Hoseok.

"Actually, I think y/n's first task is to interview said, ladies." Namjoon fought the emerging smile on his face as Hoseok nearly went pale.

Jimin spoke this time, "Hobi?" He caught the man's attention, "Run."

Needing no further instruction, he made a dash for the elevator.

"Oh, hello." You caught the attention of a beautiful chestnut-haired woman, "Can I help you?" You smiled at her as you carried a box to your office adjacent to Hoseok's.

She scanned your form before letting her guard down. You should've been offended by how quickly she wrote you off as a non-threat, but you let it go, "I'm looking for Jung Hoseok." She flashed you a smile, a very fake one judging by the stiffness in her face.

You shook off the insecurity planting itself in your psyche before it could latch, "He's in a meeting, but I'm a new worker in this department so I could-"

"They hired you?!" She quickly cut you off, "I didn't even get a chance to interview yet, and they gave the assistant position to you?!" She threw her hands up before her eyes landed on the ring you were, "Wow, are taken women his thing, or something?" She sneered. You felt your throat close in panic and rage all at once. You watched in hidden horror as her face seemed to morph into Minyoung's. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and replaced it with a quaint smile, a very fake one, "Actually, I'm the new Employment Analyst." You quipped, "I believe I'm your interviewer in fact." The woman went pale, "I'm still setting up my office, but you are very punctual, I'll give you that." You smiled at her, "I am nothing if not fair, so if you would like to take a seat while I set up, I'll be right with you." You gestured to the chairs outside the door to your office and she took the seat slowly. You closed the door behind you, stalking to your desk to place the box on top of the mahogany only to slump down into a crouched position with an exasperated sigh.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, blowing it out through pursed lips to prevent yourself from hyperventilating, "Get it together." You curse yourself. It had maybe been 10 minutes and you were already hiding under your desk, "Fuck, why did I think I could do this?" You closed your eyes in defeat when the door slammed open, startling you.

"Y/n!" Hoseok's voice caused you to internally panic and hit your head under the desk.

"Shit!" You scolded the pain, "I-Is my interviewee still out there?" You wondered aloud as Hoseok rushed to your side.

"I sent them home." He sighed before lifting you to sit on your chair and wordlessly began to guide you through your breathing, just as he had a million times before, just as he had when you were still in high school and especially in the last month.

You worked through the breathing and felt yourself seethe. You were more frustrated than angry, but still angry. Why did this random girl affect you so terribly? Why did Hoseok send her home? Why couldn't you just keep it the fuck together?

"Well, I suggest you leave," You sighed out as your chest rose and fell at its usual pace, "I have more coming."

"You can just cancel them." Hoseok shook his head at the thought of you interviewing a shamefully specific demographic of women he hired, "I want to find the candidates on my own." 

You studied his face. His lips were pursed, eyes were looking at your cheek, not eyes, and his grip on your shoulder had noticeably stiffened. Your face scrunched in disappointment, "Why? It seems they all fit your credentials." You spat, more bitter than you intended before sighing again as silence befell the two of you. You shut your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts before opening them halfway to look down at your hands clasped together tightly, "I can't do it again, Hoseok." You muttered softly, "I'm not stupid, I know what you do in this office, but I can't do that again."

He met your eyes this time, obviously worried, "What do you mean?" His brows furrowed.

"Be the afterthought." You bit out, "I will not compete with all these women and end up…" exactly like yourself. You swallowed your last words because they would hurt the both of you too much.

"Angel, I would never-"

"Just go, okay?" You forced yourself to say, not looking at him, "It's my first day of work and we've already breached professionalism." You breathed out with your lips pursed, "I have interviews to do." You looked at Hoseok and he didn't meet your eyes as he left, dejected.

The interviews went terribly for both parties you would say. Most of these women had no experience being an Administrative LLP Assistant and if they did, they walked out on their last jobs. A lot of the women were quite kind, after noticeably sizing you up, but then you had some women who thought they could interview you as well. It was awfully reminiscent of when you first encountered Minyoung. 

By the end of the interviews, you felt like your eyes were beginning to cross as your tongue began to sting. It wasn't a real sting. This much was confirmed when your neck also began to sting and you let out a shaky breath. You stared at the excel sheet of employee evaluations and found yourself wondering if you would be able to work at home.

You shook off the very fantasy since you barely had a home to begin with. You needed to look for a place. Your heart squeezed at the thought and you put your hand on your chest. You felt stupid for wanting to leave Hoseok, but you also felt stupid for wanting to stay with a man who had such a specific and insatiable taste. 

The day dragged on and you actively avoided Hoseok when your lunch rolled around. You opted for a granola bar at your desk and it was just as indignifying as you thought it would be. Your job turned out to be mostly excel sheets and productivity reports and it wasn't until Hoseok knocked on your door that you realized it was time to go home- Hoseok's home.

The car ride was painfully and noticeably silent in the beginning. You didn't look at Hoseok and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes as the driver even looked uncomfortable. It wasn't until you realized you were at Hoseok's place that you even moved.

You dragged your feet to the door as the day's event swirled in your head. The women reminded you scarily of yourself, pining after someone who would never pine after them. Some of them were rings too and you wondered if it was because their home life was like yours had been. Had they just wanted to feel desired for once? Who are you to judge them when your ex is piecing together the life your ex-fiance destroyed. How are you any better than them with Hoseok? 

Even if you love him, it doesn't mean he loves you or doesn't plan on finding more thrilling endeavors outside of the lovely little home he keeps you at just like Sookwang had.

The bile in your throat pushed itself against you at the very thought and when Hoseok opened the door, you ran to the bathroom, hand over your mouth.

He quickly ran after you only to see you on your knees in front of the toilet as you heaved a cried. Immediately, he held back your hair as you hurled your guts, thoughts, fears, and sadness out of your body after holding them in for a day. It hadn't been the first time you've thrown up with Hoseok present, so he knew exactly how to clean you up as you cried.

However, this time, you gripped his dress shirt, surely causing wrinkles, and looked at him, "Please don't leave me." Your bottom lip quivered, "I can't, I can't be alone, I'm so sorry." You cried into his chest as he rocked you back and forth, "You're-You're all I…" You let out another sob

"I'm all you have." He mused and you nodded, "Just as you are all I have." You hiccuped and he kissed your head, "I've loved you for years, I will not be stopping, whether you like it or not." He stroked your hair as he closed your eyes.

He should kill Sookwang. He's never been so sure of himself. Hoseok clutched you closer to him as you shook violently. He should kill Sookwang for not only hurting you but for making you so distrusting of everyone, even him. The love of your life. Sookwang instead would spend his life in prison- or lack of life. It was merciful, Hoseok should rip him to shreds and let you do the same to Minyoung. However, the only thing more important than doing that was having you as his, at last.

He was all you had finally. It would remain that way.

After an hour of breathing exercises and mouthwash, you were in your bedroom. You stared up at the ceiling and yet, all you could see was Hoseok's face. You cursed yourself for this. It was like you were back in high school again. You were embarrassed by how easily you fell for him again especially after what Sookwang did. You closed your eyes and moted how warm you felt just thinking about all Hoseok has done for you. 

You weren't an idiot. You had dated him before. You knew he was terrified of a commitment then, but now, it almost seemed as if he craved it. It was a complete turnaround. It wasn't healthy. Logically, you knew that, right? You knew that this connection was obsessive on a good day, but he made you feel so safe. Your first day at work went terribly and you had just wished to go home to Hoseok's loving arms. Instead, your mind had morphed him into Sookwang.

Hoseok was the opposite, however. Sookwang had been sheltered and starved, so he settled for you as a wife and other women as a lover. Hoseok, however merely settled for one night stands in search of stability. He was loving and attentive, maybe a little too much. Even so, he hadn't brought home any women, or left your side, in the past month. He only ever seemed to look at you while you tried to assess your situation. 

You weren't ready for a relationship, you thought. But how the hell do you know what's good for you? 

Look at your past logical decisions, such as getting engaged. Maybe Hoseok knew what's best for you. Maybe you knew that wasn't healthy. Maybe you didn't care.

If you were going to regret this, you were going to have to do it first.

You sat up, letting the covers fall off your body as you ripped them off your legs. Before you could even begin to dissect your mindset, your legs carried you in front of Hoseok's door. It was already in the evening. You wondered if he was going to make dinner or leave you alone for the night. Should you not bother him? You shook your head before bringing your wrist up to knock on the door.

It had been the softest knocks Hoseok had heard in his life. His eyebrows scrunched together. Had he forgotten the cleaning lady was coming today? He could've sworn she comes Tuesday mornings?

"Come in." He nodded towards the closed door as it opened ever so cautiously.

He immediately sat up as soon as he saw it was you, "Hey, Hobi." You smiled at him shyly. 

Hoseok visibly relaxed as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to come near him. You walked over to his bed, "Sorry to intrude." You offered wearily, as he guided you to sit next to him, "I just…" You drew in a breath, as his arm wrapped around your waist Before I say anything, I just need to know what you want." His head tilted to the side in confusion now laying down next to his seated form and you groaned in frustration, "Do you...want me?" You forced out and it seemed he finally understood what you were trying to figure out. He leaned over you with a smile.

"I love you if that's what you're getting at." Your breath hitched at his boldness, "Don't act like you didn't know."

It was your turn to be confused as the man of your teenage and adult dreams leaned over you with a satisfied smirk, "You only said it that one time and I didn't think that you…" You avoided eye contact, "Would want used goods." 

He gripped your chin in an instant for you to see his jaw clenched and stern eyes, "I wish you could see what I see." He closed his eyes, letting his irritation diffuse as he leaned closer to you, "What no one else deserves to see." He hovered over your lips.

You were hypnotized by the passion and found yourself left with no option but to grip both sides of his face and bring him down to you. His lips connected with yours slowly at first but it quickly grew into a frenzied expression of how starved you both were to be craved by the other. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. He moved you to where he was laid in between your legs and you gasped when his pelvis had accidentally brushed against yours. 

Hoseok broke away from the kiss for a moment, lips swollen and chest heaving, "Fuck, baby, I better go get dinner started before we end up doing something that-"

You pouted at this, causing Hoseok to immediately halt at the sight, "Hobi," You whined as you gripped his bicep, "Don't you want me?" You batted your eyelashes at him as his resolve crumbled.

"More than anything, angel." He was quick to say as he dipped his head down to place light kisses on your neck.

"So show me." You breathed and it was like something snapped in him.

He gripped your hip with a determined squeeze as his mouth opened eider to harshly suck the skin of your neck between his teeth. You groaned at the sensation, heat quickly pooling between your thighs. The hand on your hip reached up as he began to unbutton the lavender blouse. He had never touched you like this before, so when the shirt left you open, only a bra of the same color shielding you, he had to pull back to look at you for a moment. He studied every mole, freckle, or mark he could see as he slipped the shirt from your shoulders. He kissed down your stomach as he made quick work of the slacks he bought you, nearly salivating at how close he was to your clothed entrance. 

You arched your back, obedient as ever when his hands caressed your waist, sliding behind to unhook your bra. He let out a shaky breath when your top half became full bare. His hands gripped them both, softly pinching both nipples as you let out a mewl that spurred him to lean down, taking one of the buds into his mouth, tongue encircling it as your back arched again while you let out a whine. The sensation of his mouth and hands shooting straight to the area where you wanted them most. He let his teeth graze the bud before sucking and you could no longer suppress the moan that was clawing at your throat. He let the nipple go with a lewd pop as he studied your body again before moving to caress your hips and thighs. He watched the flesh squish under his touch and you squirmed a bit, "So fucking beautiful." He breathed, transfixed by your nearly bare body.

"Hobi." You whined, as his eyes wen to your heated face. Your bottom lip was caught in your teeth as your thighs shifted beneath him.

"Yes, my love?" He mused as he slid the last piece of fabric you had down your legs, watching as your pussy became exposed to him. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs as his fingers went to spread you, "Do you want me to taste you?" He hummed, mouth mere millimeters away from your opening.

You pet out a breathy moan at the anticipation, "Yes, yes, please." You huffed out only for the very breath to be stolen as his tongue dove at your sex like a man starved. 

Hoseok had never expected you to be so needy, each time his tongue moved you would whine out, wanting more and more. Never did he fine eating someone out to be so erotic as he did with his hands keeping you in place as your upper body twisted in pleasure. You would squeak when his tongue would dance around your hole, tempting him to finally plunge it in. He felt how tight you were and was instantly addicted to the feeling of you around him. He fucked you with his tongue as he let you move your hips to meet the thrusts of the muscle. He almost brought a hand to play with your clit but opted to make you cum with his mouth alone.

You had never been eaten out like this before. You could hardly keep up with Hoseok or the sensations he gave you as he entered you with his tongue. Never in your life have you felt so euphoric, the sensation sent tingles down your body and straight to your clit which he flicked with a stiffened tongue before you could even blink. A long-forgotten coil began to tighten in the pit of your stomach as he spread you as wide as you could go, his hands on your knees as he sucked on your clit, tongue still ruthless as it explored your pussy. You could hear him nearly slurp. You normally would be embarrassed, but all you could feel was what Hoseok gave you, and you wanted more. 

As if he read your mind, Hoseok began a ruthless rhythm of long-stroke that brought you closer and closer each time until you let loose with a scream of pleasure, your body shaking as you came. Hoseok placed a kiss on your clit that made your hips jump, "Hobi, fuck me." You breathed out, chest heaving as you crept down from the enormous high. The man hesitated, fully intent on letting you rest and taking care of himself in the bathroom. He was ready to tell you this until you let out another cute whine, "Please, babe, I want you to make love to me." You whined out and how could he possibly say no?

"I can't say no to you, baby, that's not fair." He spoke, eyes lidded as he stripped himself at lighting speed, moving his length along your slit as he groaned lowly at the contact. When he pressed the head against your entrance and you moaned lightly he nearly blew his load. By the time he slid all the way in, he had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He looked down at you, eyes barely open and mouth panting. He then watched himself as he slid slowly in and out, his hardened member eventually all the way in your tight walls, "You're so beautiful." He groaned as he set a slow pace, "I love you so much." He leant down to kiss you as he fucked you gently and when you moaned into his mouth he couldn't help but speed up.

"Hobi." You moaned out sweetly for him as he fucked you, "Feels so good." You gasped out as your hands went to press him closer to you as he ground deeper into, more desperate. You could feel the bed shaking as he sped up more and more, calculated thrusts now becoming sloppy as you could feel another orgasm on the edge of breaking free.

He could tell you were close to as you squeezed him, "You gonna cum again for me, angel?" You gasped, nearly squealing as you squeezed around him, cumming hard enough to send him over the edge, "Fuck, fuck!" He moaned in pure ecstasy as he came inside of you, riding out the highs you both shared.

"I love you." You mumbled through tired lips pressed against his ears. He slowly slid out of you and that's as far as you remember before passing out.

You woke up with soft lips against your shoulder as the early morning peeked through the curtains. Your eyes slowly opened as they flicked around to find Hoseok in your peripherals, "Oh, you're awake." He mumbled, mouth still trailing over your bare skin.

"Mmph." You murmured, turning over, "Good morning." You placed a lazy kiss on his toned chest as you nuzzled into him.

The sleepy chuckle he let out vibrated in his chest, "What do you say we work from home today, hm?" 

Your eyes snapped open immediately as you shot up, "Work! I forgot!" You exclaimed as your eyes darted across the room looking for a clock, "I can't just not come in on my second day I-"

"Baby-"

"I must look like such a slacker! I can't believe I-"

"Angel, I-"

"How did I not set my alarms before I just went to sleep all willy nilly?! It's mmph-" Soft lips landed on your own as you melted into the kiss in spite of your moment of panic. His lips massaged yours until he felt your naked form relax on his own. 

This was all he needed. He was all you needed. This moment was the epitome of what it meant to be reborn in the arms of someone else. It was always meant to be this way. He was an idiot for thinking you were anything less than his soulmate. He was a fool for looking for comfort when he should've been looking for you all these years.

Once he felt your body fully depend on him, he broke the kiss ever so slowly, "It's 6:00am." He mumbled against your mouth, "I'm offering to have us both work from home today, so I can let the office know I will be conducting your orientation off-site." The smirk that twinkled on the corner of his mouth did not go unnoticed by you before you nodded. 

You watched with twinkling eyes as Hoseok made the call. You laid your head on his bare chest as you heard the rumble of his deep voice making orders to accommodate for his absence, "Hobi," You murmured when he hung up the phone, "Were you ever expecting to see me again?"

The hand he had stroking your hair faltered as his heart sank at the mention of the past. He was an idiot to be scared enough to ruin things with you. He was a fool to deny himself the bliss of loving you back, "No, not at first." He spoke honestly, "But I missed you every day." You smiled at this while he stroked your hair, "Something was missing in my life, and I tried to find it in other women when I was too scared to look for you."

"Oh, I hated you so much." You stifled a laugh.

"You said you could never!" Hoseok huffed as you leaned your head up to look at his pouting face.

"Not real hate, babe." You smiled softly, "I mean heartbreak hate." You mused, "I never wanted to see you again, but I never stopped wondering about you, and when I moved to South Korea, and especially when I was with… you know, I let my mind wander to how we could've been." 

"Well, it's me and you now and forever, angel." He placed a kiss on your forehead, "Nothing will ever come between us again, not even ourselves." Hoseok spoke with determination you were smart enough to know the implications of. Not that you had plans to ever leave, but even if you had they would be for naught. You knew his power. You were sure he only scratched the surface with Sookwang. It should scare you.

"I know you won't let it, even if anything tried." You breathed, blissful as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. It wasn't healthy how he thrilled you. How much you loved being so secure in his arms, even if he was also securing you within his clutches. Chains or not, they were much too comfortable for you to object. You had the autonomy you wanted. You had everything you needed at the snap of a finer. Sookwang gave you hell and Hoseok led you to the pearly gates.

You weren't dumb enough to overlook the resounding clink as you were locked in heaven with the man you loved. 

The very man who finally loved you back.

Ko-fi

Masterlist

#yandere bts #bts fanfic #jung hoseok fanfic #bts smut #yandere hoseok #bts angst #bts fluff #bts oneshot #hoseok smut #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #yandere smut

[labime]

So there is apparently yet another discourse about AO3 donations. It comes back every time like clockwork. The argument against donating—and more specifically about the donors' morals—centers around the global pandemic most of us are living with. Some people claim that we need to reconsider our priorities and privileges and reproach us to give to an archive fanfiction website instead of the various organizations currently asking for donations as well.

Many sentences keep reappearing in their tirades, whether it's a response to someone's post or their own, most of them referencing the content AO3 allows to be hosted on their website in general, their tone suggests strong disapproval—and sometimes outright hate—for the website's lack of censorship when it comes to subjects they oppose the depiction of. Just like with sentences, words and accusations are circulating in their rants; 'abuse', 'incest', 'pedophilia'.

It causes a strong reaction from people reading, including me, because decent people have a visceral repugnance toward the crimes mentioned above and those people are using it, intentionally leaving out the adjective that belongs right before each of their words. Fictional. It's important to note this because it covers those people's strategies to link the content creators' to the works in a way that implies their endorsement for the crimes they write about.

Without the fictional nature of their work—as opposed to autobiographical, in that case the creator, whoever they are and regardless of the quality of their art, deserve to be punished—most of the famous writers we know would be in jail. Vladimir Nabokov would be in jail for grooming, incest, murder, and pedophilia. Thomas Harris would be in jail for cannibalism, torture, mutilation, and murder. Bret Easton Ellis would be in jail for rape, torture, mutilation, and murder (including child murder).

I wanted to make that difference clear before continuing. Fiction and reality, the real and the imaginary, dreaming and being awake… One can influence the other when a person is already predisposed to it, but those are entirely separate entities. The word 'blood' on paper will not bleed on a page. It's a distinction you should be able to make on your own. It's not anyone's else job to limit themselves on account of your failure to do so and certainly not someone's duty to impose censorship on other people because you can't process something as simple as that.

It's something I wanted to make clear because I think it should be pointed out that the pandemic and the anxiety it causes to everyone is serving as a tool to impact people and more precisely people donating to AO3.

This post seeks to address a trend I have seen in debates regarding donations to AO3 in the middle of the pandemic.

They accuse donors of being selfish, of valuing entertainment more than human life, and essentially make them responsible for people dying, sometimes not even subtly. They know it will hit home because many of us are still under lockdown, know people who are sick or even dead, have to worry about our health, our loved one's health, our countries, and also the prospect of losing our jobs and the repercussions of a global economic recession. In one word we are scared. Many are also paranoid about contamination and unsure about the future after the pandemic, supposing the virus goes away at all.

Those people are exploiting this just as they are used to exploiting despicable crimes and use it to further their agenda. Blaming someone for treating themselves to some entertainment is ridiculous. I have noticed that some AO3 donors answer back that they have also donated to charities almost as if to defend themselves. They shouldn't have to do that. It's ridiculous that they have to disclose any information about their expenses because antis feel entitled—with their followers—to tell random people on the internet what giving a few bucks to a fanfiction website mean about their integrity.

I want to stress not only that but also that people deciding to spend their money on entertainment without having donated to anyone else is not unethical or unscrupulous. I saw someone comparing AO3 to Nexflix and I think it is the best analogy regarding that debate.

On Tumblr, surrounded by a cultist and narrow perspective about fiction and money and politics, it's easy to forget that this approach is not normal.

Do you justify yourself when you buy a book on Amazon despite not having donated to the many charities in the world at different times of the year—because there's always a catastrophic event happening in the world, just not of that magnitude—or when you buy that dress you're only going to wear on Christmas for one evening but saved for months to get? Do you defend yourself when you buy a Spotify Premium account because the mobile app has fewer features? Do you explain to the cashier that yes you have donated to impoverished countries and homeless people when you go to the movies with your friends and buy overpriced popcorn that could feed someone in a third world country?

I give to charities and to homeless people and volunteer too and I do it because I want to, not because I am obliged to do it and you are not either. That attitude that dictates that you can't spend and enjoy without giving first or feeling guilt over it if you don't is unhealthy.

#ao3 #ao3 donations #text post

[slowburnsuicidee]

This was made by @furiousgoldfish

“Have I been manipulated into believing abuse was my fault?” game! Bold all the items that happened to you, if you’re not sure, italicize! Alternatively, just write down the score for every category. TW for explicit abuse mention.

Brainwashing; forced to take responsibility for abuser’s actions:

I was forced to apologize after being beaten/abused

I was beaten/abused while apologizing and in obvious pain

I was beaten/abused while crying

I was forced to thank them for beating/abusing me

I was forced to promise them I would change my behaviour in the future

I wasn’t allowed to cry or express pain after being beaten/abused

I was told the parent was the one with the right to cry/be upset after beating/abusing me

I was forced to comfort them after they beat/abused me

I was forced to take on pain/humiliation/guilt until I would agree that it was all my fault

I was forced to agree that I was forcing them to beat/abuse me, with my misbehaviour

I was forced to agree that I deserved the abuse

I was forced to make up to them after they would abuse me

I was forced to clean up the mess they made during abuse

I was forced into breaking down to tears if I tried to fight for myself

I was forced to hurt myself to prove my remorse for behaviour

I was forced to repeat that it was my fault

I was told the abuser didn’t enjoy doing it and was in fact forced to do it for my own good

I was called a monster/demon/sadistic/evil and accused of enjoying abuser’s pain

I was told abuse was done for my own good and that one day I will understand and be grateful for it

I was expected to have positive reactions to abuse and any negative reaction was blamed on me

I was punished for showing trauma symptoms and for showing in any way that I was abused, only acceptable way of behaviour was obedience and unconditional gratitude

I was told others were treated exactly like this, even if they weren’t showing it, and that the abuse was completely normal

I was told my reactions weren’t normal and made to focus on how I was reacting to the abuse, rather than damage and injustice done to me

I was told my reactions to abuse were the reason of the abuse, and that I was in the wrong for fighting/pushing back/provoking/not listening/not being obedient enough/angering the abuser

I was told the abuse was because “I wouldn’t have it the nice way”

I was forced to endure harsh punishments for even a small mistake or no mistake at all

I was told all I got was what I deserved, even if I couldn’t connect to how I deserved it, except that the abusers felt I did

Note: Doing any of these to a child after having them go through beating or intense episode of shock, pain and fear will leave them in a broken and vulnerable state of mind, and anything said to them or forced onto them while in that state will imprint deeply into their subconscious, and they will accept the message without being able to fight it. This is a method of brainwashing. Abuser will do this to crush child’s spirit and to destroy the child’s ability to hold abuser accountable or responsible for any abuse that occurs in the future, to transfer all the guilt and responsibility for their own actions onto the child, and depict themselves as too powerful for child to ever be able to stand against.

Dehumanization: implication you are below a human being and thus do not deserve humane treatment

I was called animal names/slurs/insults and degrading terms continually

I was told I should be beaten up and abused more often than I was

I was compared to beasts and monsters when the abusers were angry

Beating/abusing me was talked about as if it was a good thing they were proud of

I was publically beaten and/or humiliated

I was threatened with public humiliation

I had my physical injuries minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my psychological and emotional damage minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my illness minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my needs and desires minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my achievements and accomplishments minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my opinions and thoughts disregarded and ridiculed as stupid, unwanted and unimportant

I was blamed for struggling with mental or physical illness

I was called crazy, delusional and insane if I pointed out the unfair treatment

I was looked at with disgust and contempt most of the time

I was accused of wanting to be abused and asking for it

I was accused of “causing a scene” when the abuser would lash out at me

I was forced to “learn my place” if I assumed the same rights everyone else had

I was excluded from positive activities the rest of the family participated in

I was denied the rights, benefits, resources and attention the rest of the family got

Forced gratitude/implication of debt: idea that you “owe” your parents to endure their abuse

parent kept reminding me of what they’ve done for me, even the most basic parental tasks

parent often stated or implied I was ungrateful/not grateful enough for them

parent insisted they were sacrificing themselves for me, implying they expect the same in return

parent kept pointing out others lower living standards to remind me I was “lucky” in comparison

parent demanded I would have to “earn” basic respect and boundaries

parent would not allow me to complain, object or resist their treatment and if I tried, they would remind me I deserved even worse

parent insisted any abuse is perfectly acceptable and rational and that I am wrong and “taking advantage of them/denying their rights” if I resist or fight it

parent stated or implied that I’m supposed to return their effort to them with favours, obedience, endurance and compliance, or I was not worth raising and being kept alive at all

parent insisted that they have the right to do anything to me since they’re the only reason I’m alive at all (I was treated like their property)

parent made it clear it was forbidden to speak of past abuse or past events that show them in bad light, but they would keep bringing up events which paint them as good parent and keep them central to how they should be perceived by me

parent accused me of making things up/lying/being crazy or mentally ill/trying to manipulate or hurt them when I tried to talk about an event of abuse and point out they hurt me

parent kept me hyperaware of how much I owe them and how much I would risk losing if I dared to accuse them/confront them on being abusive

parent would remind me it could be much worse, and would use other people’s suffering to shut me up and make me feel guilty for even thinking I could talk about my own issues

parent kept me aware that accusing them of any abuse is hurtful and abusive towards them, and that I am cruel and ungrateful if I dare to make any statement like that

parent told me I was wrong/weird/stupid for getting traumatized by abuse because “others wouldn’t get traumatized by that much”

parent made me aware of all the issues they were dealing with, and treated my needs for attention and positive environment like an extra issue they do not want to deal with

parent kept me aware of how sick/mentally ill/troubled/desperate/tired they were and kept me feeling guilty over not doing enough for them, not being enough of a support and help, and having my own needs and wants was out of the question

parent made me aware they’re ready to abandon me if I prove to be “too much work” or “too inconvenient” or even just “not obedient enough”

parent made sure I know all their other issues and life problems were more important than me, and that it was not my place to complain, ask for anything, or object to how I’m treated

parent accused of “living in the past” and “failing to be a bigger person” if I didn’t show perfect adoration and acceptance for them

parents assured me i would turn into a spoiled, arrogant brat had they not abused me

Societal brainwashing; forcing the idea that no parents are abusive, and that all parental abuse has to be forgiven at any cost

parent/society taught me I was a bad/selfish/ungrateful person unless I forgive and forget all and any abuse

parent/society taught me I was an awful, ungrateful and selfish child if I didn’t demonstrate perfect love and gratitude for my parents

parent/society taught me it was my duty to understand and accept my parents, and that no matter what, they were doing their best and wished only the best things for me

parent/society taught me that I was responsible for teaching my parents how to be better people

parent/society taught me I should never judge or accuse my parents because “I couldn’t possibly understand how hard time they’re having”

parent/society taught me any animosity, hatred, anger or any negative thing I had to say about my parents proved me to be bad, ungrateful and unappreciative person

parent/society taught me that all parents only want the best for their children and there are no parents who hate or hurt their children on purpose

parent/society taught me that there was nothing that can be done about me getting hurt by my parents, and that it was up to my parents to decide what I deserve

my parents/society taught me that being bothered by abuse was my own fault and if I wasn’t weak and pathetic, it wouldn’t have affected me at all

my parents had other people affirm they were good people and thus I was wrong to accuse or judge them for anything they did to me

my parents had other people agree that I was not normal and there was something wrong with my judgment and perceptions, so my point of view shouldn’t be trusted or even taken into consideration

my parents had other people agree that I was a selfish, unappreciative, and hard to raise child

i had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/acquintaces/therapists side with my abusers and against me

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/therapists defend my abuser and take their side, assuring me I have to, once again, forget my point of view and consider abuser’s side

I had other people/society defend the abuser and assure me I’m wrong to accuse them

my parents insisted the abuse/parts of abuse/events i remembered didn’t even happen, and that there was something wrong with me for making up such a thing (gaslighting;guilt tripping, maybe i should write another category for this one)

my parents were a part of religion/cult that excused all and any of their actions because they were doing it for the sake of the third party that had to be worshiped/obeyed (maybe i should write a cult category as well there is much more to this one)

If you bolded even one of the items on the first two categories, or multiple ones in third and fourth, you have undergone psychological abuse that would force you to believe it was your fault, or that you deserved the abuse. This is wrong, as you neither deserved it, nor it was your fault. You were a child, and there was no way for you to commit any crime bad enough to deserve anything like this. These methods are used for brainwashing and breaking a person, and abusers do these on purpose.

#well then #ow

[hollowcanyougo]

“Have I been manipulated into believing abuse was my fault?” game! Bold all the items that happened to you, if you’re not sure, italicize! Alternatively, just write down the score for every category. TW for explicit abuse mention.

Brainwashing; forced to take responsibility for abuser’s actions:

I was forced to apologize after being beaten/abused

I was beaten/abused while apologizing and in obvious pain

I was beaten/abused while crying

I was forced to thank them for beating/abusing me

I was forced to promise them I would change my behaviour in the future

I wasn’t allowed to cry or express pain after being beaten/abused

I was told the parent was the one with the right to cry/be upset after beating/abusing me

I was forced to comfort them after they beat/abused me

I was forced to take on pain/humiliation/guilt until I would agree that it was all my fault

I was forced to agree that I was forcing them to beat/abuse me, with my misbehaviour

I was forced to agree that I deserved the abuse

I was forced to make up to them after they would abuse me

I was forced to clean up the mess they made during abuse

I was forced into breaking down to tears if I tried to fight for myself

I was forced to hurt myself to prove my remorse for behaviour

I was forced to repeat that it was my fault

I was told the abuser didn’t enjoy doing it and was in fact forced to do it for my own good

I was called a monster/demon/sadistic/evil and accused of enjoying abuser’s pain

I was told abuse was done for my own good and that one day I will understand and be grateful for it

I was expected to have positive reactions to abuse and any negative reaction was blamed on me

I was punished for showing trauma symptoms and for showing in any way that I was abused, only acceptable way of behaviour was obedience and unconditional gratitude

I was told others were treated exactly like this, even if they weren’t showing it, and that the abuse was completely normal

I was told my reactions weren’t normal and made to focus on how I was reacting to the abuse, rather than damage and injustice done to me

I was told my reactions to abuse were the reason of the abuse, and that I was in the wrong for fighting/pushing back/provoking/not listening/not being obedient enough/angering the abuser

I was told the abuse was because “I wouldn’t have it the nice way”

I was forced to endure harsh punishments for even a small mistake or no mistake at all

I was told all I got was what I deserved, even if I couldn’t connect to how I deserved it, except that the abusers felt I did

Note: Doing any of these to a child after having them go through beating or intense episode of shock, pain and fear will leave them in a broken and vulnerable state of mind, and anything said to them or forced onto them while in that state will imprint deeply into their subconscious, and they will accept the message without being able to fight it. This is a method of brainwashing. Abuser will do this to crush child’s spirit and to destroy the child’s ability to hold abuser accountable or responsible for any abuse that occurs in the future, to transfer all the guilt and responsibility for their own actions onto the child, and depict themselves as too powerful for child to ever be able to stand against.

Dehumanization: implication you are below a human being and thus do not deserve humane treatment

I was called animal names/slurs/insults and degrading terms continually

I was told I should be beaten up and abused more often than I was

I was compared to beasts and monsters when the abusers were angry

Beating/abusing me was talked about as if it was a good thing they were proud of

I was publically beaten and/or humiliated

I was threatened with public humiliation

I had my physical injuries minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my psychological and emotional damage minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my illness minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my needs and desires minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my achievements and accomplishments minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my opinions and thoughts disregarded and ridiculed as stupid, unwanted and unimportant

I was blamed for struggling with mental or physical illness

I was called crazy, delusional and insane if I pointed out the unfair tratment

I was looked at with disgust and contempt most of the time

I was accused of wanting to be abused and asking for it

I was accused of “causing a scene” when the abuser would lash out at me

I was forced to “learn my place” if I assumed the same rights everyone else had

I was excluded from positive activities the rest of the family participated in

I was denied the rights, benefits, resources and attention the rest of the family got

Forced gratitude/implication of debt: idea that you “owe” your parents to endure their abuse

parent kept reminding me of what they’ve done for me, even the most basic parental tasks

parent often stated or implied I was ungrateful/not grateful enough for them

parent insisted they were sacrificing themselves for me, implying they expect the same in return

parent kept pointing out others lower living standards to remind me I was “lucky” in comparison

parent demanded I would have to “earn” basic respect and boundaries

parent would not allow me to complain, object or resist their treatment and if I tried, they would remind me I deserved even worse

parent insisted any abuse is perfectly acceptable and rational and that I am wrong and “taking advantage of them/denying their rights” if I resist or fight it

parent stated or implied that I’m supposed to return their effort to them with favours, obedience, endurance and compliance, or I was not worth raising and being kept alive at all

parent insisted that they have the right to do anything to me since they’re the only reason I’m alive at all (I was treated like their property)

parent made it clear it was forbidden to speak of past abuse or past events that show them in bad light, but they would keep bringing up events which paint them as good parent and keep them central to how they should be perceived by me

parent accused me of making things up/lying/being crazy or mentally ill/trying to manipulate or hurt them when I tried to talk about an event of abuse and point out they hurt me

parent kept me hyperaware of how much I owe them and how much I would risk losing if I dared to accuse them/confront them on being abusive

parent would remind me it could be much worse, and would use other people’s suffering to shut me up and make me feel guilty for even thinking I could talk about my own issues

parent kept me aware that accusing them of any abuse is hurtful and abusive towards them, and that I am cruel and ungrateful if I dare to make any statement like that

parent told me I was wrong/weird/stupid for getting traumatized by abuse because “others wouldn’t get traumatized by that much”

parent made me aware of all the issues they were dealing with, and treated my needs for attention and positive environment like an extra issue they do not want to deal with

parent kept me aware of how sick/mentally ill/troubled/desperate/tired they were and kept me feeling guilty over not doing enough for them, not being enough of a support and help, and having my own needs and wants was out of the question

parent made me aware they’re ready to abandon me if I prove to be “too much work” or “too inconvenient” or even just “not obedient enough”

parent made sure I know all their other issues and life problems were more important than me, and that it was not my place to complain, ask for anything, or object to how I’m treated

parent accused of “living in the past” and “failing to be a bigger person” if I didn’t show perfect adoration and acceptance for them

parents assured me i would turn into a spoiled, arrogant brat had they not abused me

Societal brainwashing; forcing the idea that no parents are abusive, and that all parental abuse has to be forgiven at any cost

parent/society taught me I was a bad/selfish/ungrateful person unless I forgive and forget all and any abuse

parent/society taught me I was an awful, ungrateful and selfish child if I didn’t demonstrate perfect love and gratitude for my parents

parent/society taught me it was my duty to understand and accept my parents, and that no matter what, they were doing their best and wished only the best things for me

parent/society taught me that I was responsible for teaching my parents how to be better people

parent/society taught me I should never judge or accuse my parents because “I couldn’t possibly understand how hard time they’re having”

parent/society taught me any animosity, hatred, anger or any negative thing I had to say about my parents proved me to be bad, ungrateful and unappreciative person

parent/society taught me that all parents only want the best for their children and there are no parents who hate or hurt their children on purpose

parent/society taught me that there was nothing that can be done about me getting hurt by my parents, and that it was up to my parents to decide what I deserve

my parents/society taught me that being bothered by abuse was my own fault and if I wasn’t weak and pathetic, it wouldn’t have affected me at all

my parents had other people affirm they were good people and thus I was wrong to accuse or judge them for anything they did to me

my parents had other people agree that I was not normal and there was something wrong with my judgment and perceptions, so my point of view shouldn’t be trusted or even taken into consideration

my parents had other people agree that I was a selfish, unappreciative, and hard to raise child

i had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/acquintaces/therapists side with my abusers and against me

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/therapists defend my abuser and take their side, assuring me I have to, once again, forget my point of view and consider abuser’s side

I had other people/society defend the abuser and assure me I’m wrong to accuse them

my parents insisted the abuse/parts of abuse/events i remembered didn’t even happen, and that there was something wrong with me for making up such a thing (gaslighting;guilt tripping, maybe i should write another category for this one)

my parents were a part of religion/cult that excused all and any of their actions because they were doing it for the sake of the third party that had to be worshiped/obeyed (maybe i should write a cult category as well there is much more to this one)

If you bolded even one of the items on the first two categories, or multiple ones in third and fourth, you have undergone psychological abuse that would force you to believe it was your fault, or that you deserved the abuse. This is wrong, as you neither deserved it, nor it was your fault. You were a child, and there was no way for you to commit any crime bad enough to deserve anything like this. These methods are used for brainwashing and breaking a person, and abusers do these on purpose.

[casualkoalafart]

Life These Days.

Disabilities are associated with weakness. The biggest disability is living in an unhealthy mindset, and getting trapped in it. Perspective(s), and the ability to control your perspective, is strength. It gives you power, rather than feed your deterioration.  Strength and success are different for everyone and do not have and specific unit of measurement, despite what society depicts. Everyone is different, and is seen different. The idea that you have to look and act a certain way that is unreachable to 99% of us is mental abuse. No matter your race or religion, we are all equal in the eyes of the natural world, although it is a sad, unnecessary, and certainly outdated fight that too many still face today within our human world. The only things that truly matter come from within, and often require some searching through trial and error. I am certainly not perfect, I have made more mistakes and bad choices in my life than I can count, and I want to learn from them. I cannot change the past, but I can change the future. My past does not define me. The person you are within your family, your friends, your workplace, your neighbourhood, and your society are all strangers to each other in one way or another. They are aware that each of them exists, but a different thought process prepares you for the presented environments.

One person’s strength is someone else’s weakness. Winning the lottery could save so many lives if put into the right places, however it could also be the death of you if you are overcome by addiction, greed, or any other toxicities. The ability to put yourself into someone else’s shoes is a mindset that many of us as humans lack, whether we like it or not. After all, how are we supposed to relate to someone who is starving if we don’t know what it is like to be truly hungry? How do we understand what an abused child sees in the world if our brains were developed in a safe and healthy environment? These are uncomfortable thoughts that often lead to the sad path of “ignorance is bliss.” For others, it may have a lasting impact of giving them their purpose in life. Like becoming a detective, a therapist, or a positive role model to whatever cause speaks to them.  

Everyone has the right to speak, but not to be heard. Some people are heard by too many and get overwhelmed, and begin a filtering process that should not exist toward their feelings and emotions. Some people are getting heard by too many and are abusing their power through brainwashing impressionable people too scared to think for themselves. Some people are getting heard by the wrong people, inevitably feeling judged and out of place in the world. Humans have great instincts, but often do not have the confidence to follow them.  Finding someone like-minded is refreshing, just as finding someone that believes in something that you do not can feel offensive and cause you to become defensive. These lessons that present themselves to us in the form of challenges make us who we are. Everyone expresses themselves differently, and that is what makes the world so beautiful. Art, music, literature, traditions, food, drink, and each unique personality makes life worth living. For those who have yet to find a way to express themselves, the opportunities to deal with their thoughts while also feeling safe and understood (despite whether the view or perspective is the same as the listener), are everything. The right to speak gives you the right to be judged, something that many find out the hard way. It can be discouraging, and that feeling of failure sticks with you more prominently than any win, especially to yourself.

Every mind is its own universe, and the energy that comes from it we feel is seen by who (or what) we call god. We strive to be heard and felt, because after all we can only truly feel our own feelings, and we want to share those feelings with others. Listening and hearing others in the way they express themselves through whichever outlet best suits them brings power, empathy, and unity. The sense of being alone in the world is a feeling that has unfortunately impacted everyone. As unique and different that we all are, we are the same in that sense. I feel my energy is felt through the earth, and I find comfort in and with those who share my perspective. I feel I am most understood and heard by animals, my family, and my best friends. I am really attracted to the energy from animals because I have yet to find my way in the world, my true outlet for my feelings and expressions, or something that I feel is my purpose. With animals not being able to communicate with language, and since I cannot always seem to put things into words for others to understand me, I feel a true connection through the brainwaves, the loving and healing energy we make and willingly give to one another, specially made for each being. I do not want my energy that I create to come from animals, because I do not want to take from them. They already willingly give so much, but we continue to take and take and take until there is ultimately nothing left.

Right now, the world is speaking to us with the undeniable statistics through every outlet and source possible. Unfortunately, we do not listen, and the next warning I fear will be fatal. Global warming,  fires, floods, plagues, are begging for us to acknowledge that we are killing our Mother Earth, and we are not listening. Hatred, inequality, and the sensation that we cannot make a difference in these challenging times is going to undoubtedly be our last fight, and we must keep fighting. With lockdown forcing all of us to reflect in this time, our biggest strength would be to come together while we are apart. Many of us feel our weakest, and as strange as it sounds, we could use that to our advantage. Turning weakness into strength is not only achievable, it is necessary. Humans are so incredible, we are inventors and have made a way to connect all of us, in the idea that by doing so, no one is alone. This creates a broader sense of loneliness, being surrounded by the internet world but still not being seen for who you are. So, we are back at the beginning again it seems. Some people go to extreme lengths to be heard or remembered. The idea of being alone is a powerful feeling that can lead to either good or evil, or in tragic (but not rare) cases, suicide. We need to understand that the rising of mental sickness is another form in which our planet is letting us know that we are literally killing ourselves. Too many are unable to deal with stress, guilt, pressure, loss, and so on. Drug addictions, accidental or purposeful overdoses, and self-harm are all fatal hand-me-down outlets to deal with man-made problems that we should never have had to deal with in the first place. These man-made problems are not made up or any less real than a hurricane. They create new emotions, ones that we are not equip to handle,  forcing our bodies to call for any response to these ever-evolving threats, and are often fatal solutions. Depression and anxiety should not be a mental illness, they are simply emotions that come with the good of life. Nobody is happy all the time, and the idea that life should always be happy is sad in itself. When there is life, there is death. Where there is good, there is bad. Where there is love, there is hate. Instead of teaching each other how to handle the yin and the yang, we prescribe drugs like opioids, while also trying to convey the image that drugs are bad and drug addicts are failures. So many poor people are brainwashed into thinking that marijuana is bad, but for some reason popping pills to manipulate your body to function is normal. Writing this makes my heart race, and I cannot describe the feeling because it is a cocktail that is mixed with emotions that do not belong together. We do not know how to deal with so many things because to put it bluntly, they are not natural and they evolve every day and are designed to break us.  

Our relationships with each other is everything, and our compassion and ability to hear others is power. Emotions, and being able to talk about and express them, is a gift and a privilege. We have been given the false connotation that feelings are weakness, that the idea of healthy options and outlets of expression for them are also weakening. Someone who takes anti-depressants to cope with feelings, drinks excessively to not have to feel, and take drugs may have the sensation that they are being stronger than someone who goes to therapy. This is backwards, and we as a society need to understand this together. Our strength of our ability to exchange knowledge is getting the best of us with the media not passing on the right messages. The government favouring the majority and purposefully challenging the minority is poisoning all of us, because we are all the same. It can give a person too much power, the corrupt idea that you are somehow better than a person who is not on social media, planting trees for a living. It will give people who do not have a platform a feeling that they cannot make a change to the world, since they are just one person. Evilness derives from this false and discouraging perspective. It will not give the right people anything, it will eventually take from them everything that matters.

There is strength in getting up in the morning, brushing your teeth, creating a healthy routine. Don’t cut yourself short. You’re doing great. It’s not supposed to be easy.

I did not filter myself writing this, and I hope I did not offend anyone who took the time to read my thoughts. We are all just trying to find our place in the world. In the perspective from our planet, no person is above or below another. Society, a man-made revolution, needs to help spread the right messages. We are all part of society. You are society.

The idea of posting this to the world gives me anxiety, however I am doing it because I know I am not the only one who feels this way, and I want anyone who can relate to this message at all to know that they are not alone. I am also posting this to let ANYONE know that if they want to talk about something, I am happy to listen and to hear them. I hope this message can inspire you to feel comfortable in your mind, your body, and to not be embarrassed or feel shame to share yourself with the world through your personally suited outlet. I would love to see your art, hear your music, read your words, or learn other forms of expression from you.

In writing this, I have escaped in a sense. I have allowed so many overwhelming thoughts and emotions to form words, and with this vulnerability comes a sense of relief that I hope everyone feels they have access to.

I am so overwhelmed and overcome with emotions all of a sudden, and then they go away as if they were just thoughts passing by in a train, just making a quick stop to drop off some passengers and pick up others on their way to an unknown destination. I wish that I could control the waves in which I feel so helpless, heavy, weak, and overcome. I wish I could pace myself. I know a quick way out would be to inebriate myself, a desire of what seems like freedom is powerful and can become uncontrollable in seconds.

I really hope I am confident enough to share this one day. My goal is to organize my thoughts and feelings into words that I can be proud to own, unapologetically.

Thank goodness for computers. I love the idea of having a beautiful mind and expressing words through pen and paper. Making my words beautiful through calligraphy and ink created with my own specific muscle movements. I have a strange admiration for penmanship. However that is not the case, as my mind is a mess with thoughts that come and go at what seems like the speed of light. I am grateful for the ability to edit my words efficiently through text. But, with the sense that I am feeding into the “everything is instant” perspective/generation of society, I am also disappointed in myself for not being able to slow down my mind enough to hand write most of what I choose to put into words to remind my future self. Or my present self.

I feel like after starting this page, I have opened a vault. One that should never have been a vault to begin with, but a welcoming and open-minded space. Instead of numbing and silencing my mind, I would like to have the strength to escape my escape, get my bearings back in a healthy way by reading other people’s escapes, appreciating their art, or listening to stories. Grounding myself back into reality. That I am actually okay. That I am just another person. A somebody, or a nobody, depending on my perspective.

I feel like I have experienced so many emotions today, that my body was overtaken by my mind because it was trapped. I can’t even remember writing some of it, which is curious. Hopefully that is where dying comes in, to release your trapped mind. Not now of course, but that is a nice and comforting thought for me, to think that in facing your worst fear you achieve real freedom.

I am glad I wrote it down, to reflect on later.

Everything written above was written on February 5th, 2021. It was snowy today. I had a lot of butterflies feeling my mind race so fast on so many deep levels. It is now 21:22, and although I still don’t quite know how I’m feeling, I feel like I have said what I needed to for the day. I also did not drink any alcohol today, which I am proud of after doing so much self-reflection. I am going to cuddle with Sammy, play games, and try to feel at peace with where I am in the world and in my mind.

Goodnight.  

[dead-ghouls]

Theres no way that i could ask for a break down of what you see in his ftes in ask format is is there?? I already love korekiyo, but I'm really curious about what you have to say.

I can do that! The only thing is that most of what he says I’ll be quoting from memory, but direct quotes can be found in his FTEs and in-game dialogue on wiki. I’ll do my best to provide as many screenshots as I can, but I doubt I will be able to find all, it’s a very long process and I dont have the whole day.V3 spoilers below, ofc. Also TW various types of abuse, you know the drill if you played the game. Long post!Let’s start from what we know about Korekiyo. What makes him Korekiyo, what makes him stand out, what’s special about him. 

- Unique outfit- Long hair- His deep knowledge of anthropology- His interest in occult/speaking to the dead- His deep relationship with death, grief and how he looks at it- His love for ropes- Being a serial killer

Now let’s break down every trait he has and where it comes from.

Unique outfit

FTE 3, he tells us his sister made it for him to suit her tastes, claiming his school uniform doesnt suit him.

Long hairI don’t remember if it was mentioned in-game, but it was mentioned in V3 manga anthology, that his long hair is a memento to his sister, since she had long hair, so he refuses to cut it. It is stated that events of manga obviously not canon, but I dont think this claim was outside of his canon characterisation. 

His deep knowledge of anthropology

In the same FTE he mentions that Sister was the one who “pushed him to research as much as he could”

His interest in occult/speaking to the dead + his relationship with death and griefI dont think i gotta find proof for that, he mentioned travelling looking to speak to the dead, the whole ch 3 with Caged Child + he mentioned having near-death experience after a seanse (see next bullet point), and that’s how his Sister came to him.He speaks about human mortality and coming to terms with it, but he himself cant do that. 

He doesnt fear death, maybe he even seeks it - to reunite with his Sister [cut to him enduring his execution and seeing his spirit happy and free, ready to meet her] but no way he could properly cope with human mortality and his own grief. That’s where all the occult stuff comes in - him telling how he tried so many things and how nothing worked (?). He says it during ch3 investigation, if you wanna look for a direct quote. Him being into occult, speaking with the dead, being possessed by his Sister - all of it is just his ways of coping with loss. He was very dependant on her (I’ll talk about it more below) and couldnt stand being alone.

His love for ropesOf course it can be a kinky thing but also look closely at this exchange:

This incident with ropes is what actually ended up “reuniting” him with his Sister. Of course he’d hold a special interest to this kind of activity after. 

Being a serial killerWell this one is obvious. Who did he kill? Girls. Why did he do it? To bring friends to his Sister. Simple as that.

Now look back at every bullet point and tell me: do you see a pattern? Yep, every aspect of his life, likes, personality, experiences, even his looks - it all traces back to his Sister. Controlling what he wears, what he does, what he likes; even after her death he is deeply affected and is devoted to doing everything in her name. Now try to recall one single thing about Korekiyo that wasn’t his Sister influence. Something he likes maybe? Something he enjoys on his own free time? Even his official dislike is a reference to a gift you might give in-game, an air refreshener that exorcises ghosts [He believes that he is possesed]. All I can think of is him telling he prefers green tea over black in one of FTEs. Korekiyo that we see and interact with in game isn’t his own person, just a reflection of grief, his Sister wants and needs. His whole existence is just a devotion to his late Sister, and it was the same way when she was alive.

Sister’s personality

From what I mentioned you should already hear the faint bells ringing in your head. “Pushed me to study” “Told me my uniform doesnt suit me” “I will kill people because her spirit told me to”He respected her, depended on her a lot. No shit, Sherlock - he was his Older Sibling. A side note, he never mentioned anyone else from his family, only said that they “had to hide their relationship from others” once. Sadly, I cant remember where it was said. No matter if he had any family present or not (having no family would worsen the case, but with family present its still fucked up) he still depended on her a lot, maybe considered her a parental figure, or at the very least - a role model. Korekiyo’s analysis on youtube brings up a very valid point - anthropology couldve been her passion as well, she just couldnt actually fullfill it because of the sickness. Explains her “pushing” him to research it.Basically we have an older sibling holding power over a younger sibling, presumably, from a younger age. More of her personality and influence can be seen in his trial. “You mustnt lose composure, you mustnt become flustered, you mustnt waver”Im linking this bit, but I strongly recommend rewatching the full version where his Sister appears. She appears to be his guardian, keeping him in check, making him act right. Telling him what to do and how to act. She appears in moments of distress when he needs comfort. He depends on her, he listens, he does everything she tells him to. Im not gonna get into the whole tulpa thing, so if youre not on board with it, I recommend reading into it more, even wiki has a brief explanation. Basically this possession is just his mind, but it does hold her true personality. So Sister is: assertive, calm, plays a role of guardian, has power over Korekiyo due her age, his respect and dependance on her, probably her being his parental figure. 

Now tell me, how this power dynamic could be healthy, consensual and (a very popular opinion in the fandom) this relationship was started from Korekiyo’s advances? How a younger sibling, that was so dependant and devoted could be in a consensual relationship with his older sibling that always tells him what to do?Korekiyo was groomed, he’s a victim. Most people in fandom hate him for being creepy and a sister-banging freak, because he doesn’t fit your cookie-cutter perseption of abuse victims. Everyone thinks that abuse victims only come in “i hate my abuser, i am currently away from them and i am healing” package. Korekiyo was never given a chance to realize it was wrong, he never got a chance to heal. He was groomed, abused, used and forced into relationship. Told that it was secret and sacred, that theyre breaking the boundaries, that’s why he mustnt tell anyone about it. Of course he believed her - its his Sister. She convinced him that his love and dependance on her was romantic/sexual love.

The same analysis brings up a good point of his Sister guilt tripping him because of her illness. Never getting a chance for romantic love, never getting a chance to make friends.

What breaks my heart is that after all of this, after devoting his life to his Sister, studying what she wanted, wearing what she wanted, killing for her sake and even being executed because of her - he says that he wasn’t enough.

TLDR - Their power dynamic is very obvious from his FTEs and the trial, he was clearly groomed and abused, never got to recover from her manipulations. And fandom either fetishisizes their relationship, excusing their nasty kinks by saying it was consensual, or hates him because they never took the time to analyze the content. He was abused, he was manipulated, god knows what else was done to him when she was alive, and he died driven to insanity, full of grief devoted to his Sister and blaming himself for not being enough. As a side-note: it is completely okay being uncomfortable with his character/everything that happened in ch3. You dont owe anyone interacting with the piece of media depicting such topics. Your comfort and safety comes first. Kodaka is a shitty fucking writer. What is not okay is hating a character for being a victim. 

I probably missed a lot, my brain is very disorganized, so feel free to ask more questions/add your own opinion. 

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #korekiyo shinguji #long post #mochizuke #ask

[jellyfax]

The Ancient Magus’ Bride Revisited: Yup, It’s Still Bad

There’s something I find wholly unpleasant about the way many fans discuss The Ancient Magus’ Bride. 1) it’s the same few ideas expressed nearly verbatim and 2) it’s very centered on dismissing very troubling trends in narratives that involve toxic, abusive relationships between girls and adult men. Anyway, sit down, have a taco, this spiel might take a while.

It should go without saying that romantic relationships between teenagers and adults are always unhealthy. Ephebophilic/pedophilic relationships really shouldn’t be justified or defended. However, The Ancient Magus’ Bride tries its damnedest to portray the focal relationship as anything but inherently dangerous and as something the audience should avidly support and root for. Despite what some fans claim that the series isn’t necessarily focused on a romantic pairing between Chise and Elias, the narrative does in many ways convey a budding romance with both characters. The images below depict Chise and Elias’ intensely intimate interactions and convey rather overtly romantic overtones, and even sexual undertones at times: 

For the record, I hated putting this together. Just looking at these images make me sick. It’s so fucking gross. A 15/16-year-old girl should never be portrayed like this with a grown man, it’s revolting.

There’s no denying that there is a burgeoning romantic love between Chise and Elias and it’s one that isn’t depicted as abhorrent. Whether or not the characters are themselves aware of the romantic, sexual chemistry between them doesn’t matter because the creator knows and we the audience know better.  

Another excuse often utilized by fans to condone this romance (or at least very dubious relationship) is the idea that Elias is childishly naïve; that he doesn’t really understand that he shouldn’t propose to marry a scared, traumatized teenage girl he just bought, that he doesn’t know it’s inappropriate for him to forcibly disrobe and bathe said girl, that he can’t really control his emotions and actions much like a petulant child, and so on. Firstly, it doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t understand basic human behavior, social constructs, and standards. He’s worked alongside humans for centuries, so his ridiculously selective ignorance only exists for the author to excuse his dangerous behavior toward Chise. In fact, when Angelica rightfully admonishes him for treating Chise poorly, Elias’ reaction indicates he knew what he did was wrong.

Elias just bought a teenage girl as a slave, proposed to her, and forcibly undressed and bathed her. Now, he’s being called a pervert for doing all that! Isn’t human trafficking and child grooming hilarious!! ROFL!!!11!!😂🤣😭🤮

Elias’ feigned naiveté is a clumsy attempt to make him palatable and sympathetic, and while I would like to say it failed it clearly hasn’t. Most viewers and readers are more than willing to infantilize “bonehead” Elias to defend or understate his actions. 

Goddammit! Human Supremacy strikes again!!! Elias said non-human monster rights!!! I am the Wokest of all, you see!!!! 

Despite how little sense it makes in-universe, even if Elias doesn’t understand the implications of proposing to a girl, the creator understands, and the audience understands that Elias x Chise is the endgame. Why else would it be called “The Ancient Magus’ Bride”? Though no matter how hard the creator and fans try to coddle and baby Elias while supporting his forced, noxious relationship with Chise, all I see is a manipulative, possessive man who’s gradually grooming a vulnerable 15-year-old girl into his ideal future bride. Still other fans, while they don’t necessarily infantilize Elias, they treat Elias and Chise as if they’re virtually equals. Nevertheless, despite these fans’ insistence, the pair are not on equal footing in their hazardously dysfunctional relationship. It really doesn’t matter that Chise occasionally scolds Elias and stands up to his abuse, because she has very little control of their relationship (i.e., she’s a child, he bought her, he’s a more experienced magic user, he has an established career, a luxurious home, etc.) and unless she leaves him permanently, her safety will never be guaranteed. Their relationship is too riddled with unsettling power imbalances, stemming mostly from Chise being a child, far too many for them to be even remotely compatible.  

Even if the story had avoided that innate nastiness of child grooming, Elias is still very possessive and manipulative. If ephebophilia/pedophilia weren’t enough of a red flag with him, the writer had to make the slow burn between Elias and Chise even more sickening with Elias’ controlling and domineering tendencies. While fans argue that his behavior is acknowledged as detrimental, as Chise leaves him for some time as a result. However, fans fail to consider how his actions should have ended the relationship, permanently; Chise should never have returned to him. Even when “called out” nothing will ever change the fact that he BOUGHT her and that she is, technically his SLAVE. He didn’t save her from servitude or worse by being a “good” master. It’s despicable that this story tries to make human trafficking and enslavement seem like it’s justifiable. Also, Elias continues to spy on Chise, claim that she is his as if she’s an object, and generally discourages her from engaging with others. He destroyed college admission offers for Chise! He almost killed a child due to his possessiveness of Chise!!! He even seemingly almost eats Chise because of his maniacal jealousy???

Excerpt from Wikipedia episode synopsis: “Chise becomes afraid Elias may be about to eat her and sends a distress signal to Ruth. [...] Chise realises Elias is jealous of Stella and having a childish temper tantrum.” This fucker physically assaults her, but sure it’s just “a childish temper tantrum,” because he’s a violent man-baby who can’t control himself. Fuck this godforsaken pile of shit.  

These actions can’t be forgiven or dismissed like a partner who tends to forget anniversaries, is a bit of a braggart and know-it-all, borrows clothes without asking or some other minor flaw. No, these are HUGE red flags that read “GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN.” Not only is he controlling, but he also claims to not be able to control his most primal and destructive urges if he doesn’t get what he wants. There are predatory people who act exactly like Elias. Abusive people who claim that they can’t control their fits of anger that result in physical, psychological, and emotional trauma. These abusers’ behavior can’t be “fixed” by those they abuse; it shouldn’t be Chise’s responsibility to repair a broken, troubled yet extremely dangerous man who wants to wife her up. This isn’t some obstacle to be overcome by the pair, it’s a clear reason for Chise to remove him from her life. The best outcome for Chise would be to get away from an absolute menace like Elias. Plain and simple. Though of course that’s obviously not going to happen, because it is a wretched nightmare of a story. 

I know I’m not the first person to express all these ideas about The Ancient Magus’ Bride, and I know I won’t be the last. It’s just that direct rebuttals to typical fan assertions are lacking whenever critics of the series take issue with its flaws regarding the main characters and their interactions. Anyway, this was my take on the most common defenses of Elias Ainsworth and his reprehensible relationship with Chise Hatori which is so central to the plot of the series. Now pardon me while I... 

#the ancient magus bride #ancient magus bride #tamb #Mahoutsukai no Yome #The Ancient Magus' Bride #venting

[ykiyori]

“Have I been manipulated into believing abuse was my fault?” game! Bold all the items that happened to you, if you’re not sure, italicize! Alternatively, just write down the score for every category. TW for explicit abuse mention.

Brainwashing; forced to take responsibility for abuser’s actions:

I was forced to apologize after being beaten/abused

I was beaten/abused while apologizing and in obvious pain

I was beaten/abused while crying

I was forced to thank them for beating/abusing me

I was forced to promise them I would change my behaviour in the future

I wasn’t allowed to cry or express pain after being beaten/abused

I was told the parent was the one with the right to cry/be upset after beating/abusing me

I was forced to comfort them after they beat/abused me

I was forced to take on pain/humiliation/guilt until I would agree that it was all my fault

I was forced to agree that I was forcing them to beat/abuse me, with my misbehaviour

I was forced to agree that I deserved the abuse

I was forced to make up to them after they would abuse me

I was forced to clean up the mess they made during abuse

I was forced into breaking down to tears if I tried to fight for myself

I was forced to hurt myself to prove my remorse for behaviour

I was forced to repeat that it was my fault

I was told the abuser didn’t enjoy doing it and was in fact forced to do it for my own good

I was called a monster/demon/sadistic/evil and accused of enjoying abuser’s pain

I was told abuse was done for my own good and that one day I will understand and be grateful for it

I was expected to have positive reactions to abuse and any negative reaction was blamed on me

I was punished for showing trauma symptoms and for showing in any way that I was abused, only acceptable way of behaviour was obedience and unconditional gratitude

I was told others were treated exactly like this, even if they weren’t showing it, and that the abuse was completely normal

I was told my reactions weren’t normal and made to focus on how I was reacting to the abuse, rather than damage and injustice done to me

I was told my reactions to abuse were the reason of the abuse, and that I was in the wrong for fighting/pushing back/provoking/not listening/not being obedient enough/angering the abuser

I was told the abuse was because “I wouldn’t have it the nice way”

I was forced to endure harsh punishments for even a small mistake or no mistake at all

I was told all I got was what I deserved, even if I couldn’t connect to how I deserved it, except that the abusers felt I did

Note: Doing any of these to a child after having them go through beating or intense episode of shock, pain and fear will leave them in a broken and vulnerable state of mind, and anything said to them or forced onto them while in that state will imprint deeply into their subconscious, and they will accept the message without being able to fight it. This is a method of brainwashing. Abuser will do this to crush child’s spirit and to destroy the child’s ability to hold abuser accountable or responsible for any abuse that occurs in the future, to transfer all the guilt and responsibility for their own actions onto the child, and depict themselves as too powerful for child to ever be able to stand against.

Dehumanization: implication you are below a human being and thus do not deserve humane treatment

I was called animal names/slurs/insults and degrading terms continually

I was told I should be beaten up and abused more often than I was

I was compared to beasts and monsters when the abusers were angry

Beating/abusing me was talked about as if it was a good thing they were proud of

I was publically beaten and/or humiliated

I was threatened with public humiliation

I had my physical injuries minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my psychological and emotional damage minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my illness minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my needs and desires minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my achievements and accomplishments minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my opinions and thoughts disregarded and ridiculed as stupid, unwanted and unimportant

I was blamed for struggling with mental or physical illness

I was called crazy, delusional and insane if I pointed out the unfair tratment

I was looked at with disgust and contempt most of the time

I was accused of wanting to be abused and asking for it

I was accused of “causing a scene” when the abuser would lash out at me

I was forced to “learn my place” if I assumed the same rights everyone else had

I was excluded from positive activities the rest of the family participated in

I was denied the rights, benefits, resources and attention the rest of the family got

Forced gratitude/implication of debt: idea that you “owe” your parents to endure their abuse

parent kept reminding me of what they’ve done for me, even the most basic parental tasks

parent often stated or implied I was ungrateful/not grateful enough for them

parent insisted they were sacrificing themselves for me, implying they expect the same in return

parent kept pointing out others lower living standards to remind me I was “lucky” in comparison

parent demanded I would have to “earn” basic respect and boundaries

parent would not allow me to complain, object or resist their treatment and if I tried, they would remind me I deserved even worse

parent insisted any abuse is perfectly acceptable and rational and that I am wrong and “taking advantage of them/denying their rights” if I resist or fight it

parent stated or implied that I’m supposed to return their effort to them with favours, obedience, endurance and compliance, or I was not worth raising and being kept alive at all

parent insisted that they have the right to do anything to me since they’re the only reason I’m alive at all (I was treated like their property)

parent made it clear it was forbidden to speak of past abuse or past events that show them in bad light, but they would keep bringing up events which paint them as good parent and keep them central to how they should be perceived by me

parent accused me of making things up/lying/being crazy or mentally ill/trying to manipulate or hurt them when I tried to talk about an event of abuse and point out they hurt me

parent kept me hyperaware of how much I owe them and how much I would risk losing if I dared to accuse them/confront them on being abusive

parent would remind me it could be much worse, and would use other people’s suffering to shut me up and make me feel guilty for even thinking I could talk about my own issues

parent kept me aware that accusing them of any abuse is hurtful and abusive towards them, and that I am cruel and ungrateful if I dare to make any statement like that

parent told me I was wrong/weird/stupid for getting traumatized by abuse because “others wouldn’t get traumatized by that much”

parent made me aware of all the issues they were dealing with, and treated my needs for attention and positive environment like an extra issue they do not want to deal with

parent kept me aware of how sick/mentally ill/troubled/desperate/tired they were and kept me feeling guilty over not doing enough for them, not being enough of a support and help, and having my own needs and wants was out of the question

parent made me aware they’re ready to abandon me if I prove to be “too much work” or “too inconvenient” or even just “not obedient enough”

parent made sure I know all their other issues and life problems were more important than me, and that it was not my place to complain, ask for anything, or object to how I’m treated

parent accused of “living in the past” and “failing to be a bigger person” if I didn’t show perfect adoration and acceptance for them

parents assured me i would turn into a spoiled, arrogant brat had they not abused me

Societal brainwashing; forcing the idea that no parents are abusive, and that all parental abuse has to be forgiven at any cost

parent/society taught me I was a bad/selfish/ungrateful person unless I forgive and forget all and any abuse

parent/society taught me I was an awful, ungrateful and selfish child if I didn’t demonstrate perfect love and gratitude for my parents

parent/society taught me it was my duty to understand and accept my parents, and that no matter what, they were doing their best and wished only the best things for me

parent/society taught me that I was responsible for teaching my parents how to be better people

parent/society taught me I should never judge or accuse my parents because “I couldn’t possibly understand how hard time they’re having”

parent/society taught me any animosity, hatred, anger or any negative thing I had to say about my parents proved me to be bad, ungrateful and unappreciative person

parent/society taught me that all parents only want the best for their children and there are no parents who hate or hurt their children on purpose

parent/society taught me that there was nothing that can be done about me getting hurt by my parents, and that it was up to my parents to decide what I deserve

my parents/society taught me that being bothered by abuse was my own fault and if I wasn’t weak and pathetic, it wouldn’t have affected me at all

my parents had other people affirm they were good people and thus I was wrong to accuse or judge them for anything they did to me

my parents had other people agree that I was not normal and there was something wrong with my judgment and perceptions, so my point of view shouldn’t be trusted or even taken into consideration

my parents had other people agree that I was a selfish, unappreciative, and hard to raise child

i had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/acquintaces/therapists side with my abusers and against me

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/therapists defend my abuser and take their side, assuring me I have to, once again, forget my point of view and consider abuser’s side

I had other people/society defend the abuser and assure me I’m wrong to accuse them

my parents insisted the abuse/parts of abuse/events i remembered didn’t even happen, and that there was something wrong with me for making up such a thing (gaslighting;guilt tripping, maybe i should write another category for this one)

my parents were a part of religion/cult that excused all and any of their actions because they were doing it for the sake of the third party that had to be worshiped/obeyed (maybe i should write a cult category as well there is much more to this one)

If you bolded even one of the items on the first two categories, or multiple ones in third and fourth, you have undergone psychological abuse that would force you to believe it was your fault, or that you deserved the abuse. This is wrong, as you neither deserved it, nor it was your fault. You were a child, and there was no way for you to commit any crime bad enough to deserve anything like this. These methods are used for brainwashing and breaking a person, and abusers do these on purpose.

[jewish-privilege]

Being an ethnically ambiguous person comes with a lot of privileges; however, answering the constant questions about my identity is not one them. Like many other exoticized women, I am asked on an almost daily basis: “What are you?” and “Where are you from?” followed up with “No really, where are you from?” after I reply “Brooklyn” to their line of questioning.  

When you tell folks in America that you are Romani, nearly 100 percent of the time they will ask if you mean Romanian. Often times, I will reply “No, Romani, which is gypsy but please don’t call us that because it’s a slur.” I’ve learned that Americans are familiar with the word “gypsy,” using it to describe a vagabond, free-spirited lifestyle, and have a faint idea of us as mythical creatures, but are ignorant to the plight of actual Romani people.

So, who are Romani? More importantly, why do we need to remove the word gypsy from our vocabulary?

Simply put, Romani are the largest ethnic minority in Europe, originating from northwest India, migrating through the Middle East, and some through North Africa, to Europe. There are Romani living around the world, with estimates of 10 and 12 million living in Europe and another million in the US. Europeans imposed the word “gypsy” on Romani when they came to Europe, believing that we originated from Egypt because of our dark features. Romani have a history of persecution in Europe; it is estimated by Roma historians that over 70 to 80 percent of the Romani population was murdered in the Holocaust, a fact that is little known or recognized. Even lesser known, Romani experienced chattel slavery in Romania for over 500 years ending in 1860.

Although it is rarely talked about, the situation for Romani has not improved much; we are still victims of hate crimes, receive inadequate health care and housing, experience segregated education, and die in prison. While policies in the US systematically discriminate in covert ways, many of the policies against Romani in Europe are overt, which is apparent through opinions from political officials. In 2013, Zsolt Bayer, co-founder of the Fidesz Party in Hungary, said, “A significant part of the Roma are unfit for coexistence. They are not fit to live among people. These Roma are animals, and they behave like animals. When they meet with resistance, they commit murder. They are incapable of human communication. Inarticulate sounds pour out of their bestial skulls. At the same time, these Gypsies understand how to exploit the ‘achievements’ of the idiotic Western world. But one must retaliate rather than tolerate. These animals shouldn’t be allowed to exist. In no way. That needs to be solved — immediately and regardless of the method.”

These ideas are not reduced to words; according to a study by the National Federation of Gypsy Liaison Groups and Anglia Ruskin University, 9 out of 10 Roma children have suffered racial abuse in the UK. In Hungary, 60 percent of Romani live in secluded rural areas, segregated neighborhoods, and settlements. The fact that 90 percent of Romani in Europe live below the poverty line is an even more extreme illustration of current living conditions for Romani.

We cannot have a conversation about the use of “gypsy” without mentioning what it specifically means to be Romani and a woman facing racism, classism and sexism, excluded from traditional feminist and Romani activist movements. Romani women experience particularly disparate treatment in the areas of education, reproductive health care, and in the labor market. Only 1.6 percent of Romani women attend college in Romania, while 90 percent of Romani women are unemployed in Hungary. Romani women in Slovakia, Hungary, and the Czech Republic were victims of forced sterilization, a practice that ended less than 10 years ago. Romani infant mortality remains an issue; it is double the national average in the Czech Republic. These policies that impact actual lives of Romani women are upheld by cultural attitudes, some of which people don’t notice they are perpetuating.

...The media offers two stereotypes of Romani women: the beggar, who is dirty and exploiting social welfare, and a hypersexualized magical being who threatens the patriarchy. So, while the use of the word “gypsy” seems innocent, it is dangerous to Romani women. It conjures up a romanticized image of poverty and sexualization, which doesn’t acknowledge that there is nothing romantic about being a victim of institutionalized racism. There is nothing romantic about the link between perceived uncontrollable sexuality and forced sterilization. There is nothing romantic about being a victim of domestic violence but afraid to speak out because law enforcement won’t believe you or it will further oppress your community. There is nothing romantic about lacking political power and representation, and being left out of both anti-racist and feminist politics.

However, that doesn’t stop the rampant consumerism and pop culture references associated with “gypsy.” Just to name a few examples: The Gypsy Shrine, Gypsy Warrior, Shakira’s song “Gypsy,” Fleetwood Mac’s song “Gypsy,” Cher’s song “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves,” and the latest, Netflix’s original series Gypsy. There are over 2,000 “gypsy” costumes on Amazon and over 250,000 “gypsy” items for sale on Etsy. When folks unknowingly or knowingly profit off of the word “gypsy,” claim they have a “gypsy soul,” or use “gypsy aesthetic” for a day at Coachella, they are reinforcing racist stereotypes of Romani women and dehumanizing us. People in the US must recognize the link between the language we use and how cultural depictions inform public policy for marginalized groups. Beyond language and the word gypsy, this is about how gypsies are struggling for liberation, and how Romani women suffer while gadje (non-Romani) profit off of our likeness. So before you put on that coin skirt and scarf, or proclaim your “free-spirited gypsy-ness,” remember that we already exist and will be always be gypsies and Romani.

---

I’m sick of seeing celebrities who are so good with anti-racism (and even antisemitism, which almost never happens!) “reclaim” the g-word when they, as non-Romani, have no right. When they are confronted with the history and present of the word, they either ignore it or scoff at the possibility that they are acting in a racist manner. I’m not Romani and it feels like a slap every time I see it; I can only imagine how painful and exhausting it is for a Romani person to deal with it on a daily basis.

#anti rromani racism #slurs #g slur #rape #uncensored slur as the original author is romani

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 11/26(?) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Dragon Age: Awakening Ensemble Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

She didn’t ask, Loriel would tell herself, after. She never asked.

But that was later, much later. For a long time, everything was fine.

After the bloody clearing, Loriel fell into her work the way one might fall down the stairs—not all at once, but once the process had begun, it became almost impossible to stop.

It was almost like being back in Kinloch. She spent all day surrounded by stone, studying magic. Only now it was on her own terms, something she was doing because she wanted to. Her freedom looked an awful lot like her prison, but it didn’t matter what it looked like. What mattered was what it was.

And of course she still had Yvanne.

Most days she woke later than she liked, with the whole morning having slipped away from her. The guilt of having done that was enough to rattle her out of any desire for breakfast, so she would go without. She would spend the day at her work, following one idea and then another. It went intolerably slow. Sometimes she couldn’t tell if an experiment had failed because her idea was bad, or because she’d done something wrong. It was just so hard to do this alone. But asking Yvanne to help was unthinkable (though she had promised, hadn’t she? She had promised to help.)

And when she could no longer stand going back and forth with herself about whether her ideas or her methods were bad, she would go back to her bedchambers. Yvanne would be there, along with a dinner in any possible condition between ‘slightly cooled’ and ‘stone cold and beginning to curdle.’ They would talk, or rather, Yvanne would talk. Loriel would nod along and eat her congealing meal, hardly tasting it. Her mind would be on the project she’d abandoned downstairs, churning with ideas for new ways to try it, if maybe she should return to an earlier form, if maybe she was struggling fruitlessly and Avernus had figured it out decades ago and it would have been faster simply to ask him.

Yvanne would finish telling her about her day, and ask her about hers, and Loriel would shrug and report that it had been pretty uneventful, really. Just work. And they’d maybe break out an aged bottle of red, and go to bed, and have sex, and afterwards Loriel would lie awake and think of blight and blood and spirit, and eventually, often when the dawn rays were already beginning to break over the horizon, she would sleep.

And then it would begin again. And again. And again.

—

Her library grew, as she requisitioned books from distant libraries, or else copied treatises herself. Her quantity of notes multiplied precipitously, until she could no longer easily keep track of them herself—and it wasn’t as though she could hire an assistant. Nobody else could understand her shorthand, anyway.

Letters from Avernus weren’t frequent, but always illuminating. Rarest of all were cryptic scrawls coming from the Architect. These generally raised more questions than they answered. She wondered if he wrote them himself, or if Utha or Seranni scribed for him. Perhaps Velanna would recognize her sister’s handwriting if she saw it—but Loriel never showed her. The thought of going out and talking to people, of being seen by them, turned her stomach.

She still had the opaque black crystal the Architect had delivered to her with Velanna. It had seemed so exciting at first, like it was surely the answer to everything. But the longer she tried to puzzle out its secrets the less she understood it. The rare times she had contact with the Architect, he was less than helpful. He kept assuming that she knew all sorts of things that she didn’t. When she asked in writing, his response WOULD explain the parts she already thought were obvious. Useless. Avernus, being nearly two centuries old, was bad enough, but the Architect was not old but ancient, and his humanity was further behind him.

She left the crystal on her desk, until looking at it made her sick with anger at herself. Then she shoved it in a drawer where she couldn’t see it anymore.

Probably she would have made more progress if she kept things better organized, but she’d never needed to be particularly organized before, and now she had no idea how to do it. Nobody had ever taught it to her. Every time it occurred to her that today would be the day she put things in order, it only took a minute of looking around at the mess for her to despair and give up.

It was pathetic. It wasn’t as though she’d never done original magical research before, but the Calling was another beast altogether. There were so many moving parts, and the more she learned the more confused she got. She needed a break, but a break simply wasn’t possible.

Because the clock was ticking. Every day she didn’t understand the Calling was another day that the unthinkable might happen. That one of them might begin to hear the song.

Alistair had said thirty years, but that had been at most thirty years. And even if the average was twenty, twenty-five, that didn’t mean it couldn’t be as few as five, for some people. Was it written down somewhere, how long each Warden lasted before the Calling claimed them? Where would she find such a document, if it was?

Yvanne still had awful darkspawn dreams. Did that mean she was more vulnerable to the Blight than other Wardens? Did that mean the Calling would come to her sooner? Did sooner mean twenty years rather than thirty—or as few as five? How much time did they have?

What made one person vulnerable to the Blight, and another one hardy to it? What made one person survive the Joining, and another one perish? What made one person’s blood different from another’s?

Or was it in the blood at all? Maybe it was something else. Some quality of the spirit, the same thing that made some children mages and spared others, perhaps. What made spirits different? Maybe Justice would have known, but Justice was gone. Justice was gone because of her. She and Yvanne pretended like it was because of Anders, but really it was because of her. Anders was gone because of her, too. What a farce. What a ridiculous, ugly farce. It was a wonder Yvanne didn’t hate her. It was all such a wonder, the fact that they still loved each other, such a wonder. It made her exhausted.

But what else was she going to do, with the time left to her? This was all she was good at.

Death’s child could do this one thing. She couldn’t do everything that was asked of her, not even most things. But maybe she could do this. Just this one thing. Just this one.

—

The thing about their arguments was that they really weren’t all that frequent. Most of the time they got along fine. Most of the time they lay down together, and rose up together, and kissed each other fondly. And it was not the most exciting of all possible lives, but wasn’t that what they’d fought for? Most days, when she was with Yvanne, Loriel could half-believe herself happy.

The problem was that it was always the same argument.

Yvanne would drink too much, and Loriel wouldn’t say anything, because it wasn’t her place. Yvanne would always do exactly what Yvanne wanted, and all attempts to prevent her would be ultimately fruitless. It still put Loriel on edge. So every time Yvanne brought it up—she only did it when she was drunk—Loriel was already on edge, so who could fault her for reacting the way she did?

“We could leave all this behind,” Yvanne would say. It was what she always said, as though wheedling would do it, as though she could wear her down. And usually Loriel would demure and conciliate. She’d always been so good at it.

But today she lost her temper. “That is not an option,” she snapped. “I’m not like you. I don’t give up on things.”

As soon as she said it she held her breath, waiting to see Yvanne draw back in hurt and offense. But instead she just rolled her eyes.

“That’s not even true,” Yvanne said. “You’ve given up on lots of things. You’ve given up on almost everything.”

Loriel stiffened. “Just what, exactly, have I given up on?”

Yvanne made a broad, flicking gesture around the room. “What haven’t you given up on?” She started counting off on her fingers. “The rest of the world. This Keep. Everyone we ever knew.”

Her mind went instantly to Anders. You gave up on him, too,  she thought poisonously. Faster than I did. But Yvanne wasn’t done.

“You know you keep accusing me of running away,” she said sardonically. “But notice how I’m still here. I stayed. I never ran, I always stayed with you. It was always, only, ever, you.”

You wanted to run, though, Loriel thought. You wanted to.

“All I ever wanted was a home in the world, with you,” Yvanne said. She’d said it before. Many times. “But you’re not with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loriel said, exasperated. It was a lie. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“You have, though.”

No more than you have, she thought. It was almost as though Yvanne didn’t see her at all, when she looked at her. What did she see?

“All I ever wanted was to be with you,” Yvanne repeated distantly. “There wasn’t room for anything else.”

But I am with you! She had to say it out loud, but her throat was so tight. She had to say it. She had to. If she could just— “But I am with you,” she echoed. “I’m here. I’m not gone.”

“Not yet.” Yvanne put her hands over her face. “Maker, I’m so afraid. All the time I’m afraid.”

A cold pit of ice dropped into Loriel’s stomach. This was not a standard part of The Argument. “Afraid. You’re afraid of me.” Was it so shocking? Everyone else was afraid of her. She had made herself frightening. She had done it on purpose.

Yvanne’s head snapped up. “ Of you? You bloody idiot—I’m afraid for you! I’m afraid I’m going to walk in on you in a pool of your own blood and won’t be able to bring you back. I’ve researched so many advanced healing spells, just in case, but it might not end up mattering. You can’t bring back the dead.”

“I’m not going to die,” Loriel scoffed. “Not any time soon, anyway.”

“You can’t know that.”

As many as thirty? As few as five?

“I know it as much as anyone can know anything,” she retorted. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not taking any undue risks.”

“Now that’s rich!” Yvanne said scornfully. “That might be the boldest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Now that got under Loriel’s skin. What right did she have to say that? And to say it as though it was self-evident. As though Loriel were simply being obstinate in not acknowledging it. As though it were anyone’s business but her own what she did with her own life and her own body.

“You don’t own me,” she said, too harshly. “I own me.”

“Wasn’t saying I did,” Yvanne muttered.

“No, I rather think you were,” Loriel said icily. “It isn’t what you said, but it is what you meant.”

Yvanne huffed, threw her hands up slightly. “Excuse me for suggesting that people with lives as tangled up together as ours might owe each other something!”

Then maybe they shouldn’t have gotten so tangled.

“And I owe you what, exactly?” she said instead. “To do with myself as you will, simply because you don’t trust me?”

Yvanne took a long time to respond. Then, quietly, “I don’t often ask you for things. But I’m asking you for this. Please.”

Loriel wanted to ask her what in the Maker-forsaken void she was talking about. Did Yvanne think Loriel would be any different outside the comfortable confines of Vigil’s Keep? Did she think the poison was in the flagstones?

For a brief moment she considered it. Abandoning her work, come what may. The Calling would take them some day, and she would never know which day—only that when it took one of them, it would take them both.

She thought about the great wide worlds, its endless sky, its infinite varieties. It choked her with its vastness. Who would she be out there?

“No,” she said eventually. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

“Right,” Yvanne muttered, in the tone that meant the argument was over. It was the answer she’d been expecting. “Course you can’t.”

Loriel shrugged helplessly. She couldn’t. She was sorry, she was. But she really, really couldn’t.

—

Her newest idea was to test everything on rats. Surely it would have better results than trying to recreate the Blight in a glass vial. The Wardens had a vial of Archdemon blood, which had to be added dropwise to darkspawn blood, along with a dozen other things, to function in the Joining. She could infect the rats, and study them, try to cure them. She would regret their deaths, but it would all be worth it in the end.

A part of her knew she didn’t understand the Blight well enough to even bother with the rats. But she was so tired of failing. After all, Avernus had most of his success with live subjects.

Catching the rats was the hard part, requiring an elaborate series of paralysis glyphs and sense crystals. Then there was the matter of keeping them contained, fed, and watered. She spent weeks figuring out some way to manage the rats, all the time her mind wandering, such that the work of a few hours stretched into a full week.

In the end it didn’t matter. All the rats she infected with Blight died right away, and she didn’t know why. Had she miscalculated the dose? Were rats fundamentally different from people, in some way? But animals could be blighted, so that couldn’t be the case. Could one of the lower animals be made into a broodmother? Could rat-darkspawn be created?

The thought of trying to get more rats to try and find out was more than she could bear. She sat splayed in her chair, wondering if perhaps she could find a breeding pair and have them produce offspring for her, but in order to make that work she would need to figure out some kind of accelerated growth spell. It was surely doable, in theory, but it would involve creation magic, a field she knew nearly nothing about.

(Yvanne knew about creation magic. Yvanne had promised to help her with this, once. She had promised.)

So she abandoned the idea entirely, and returned to glass vials. Months of effort, wasted.

She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes. Tired. So tired.

You don’t have to do this, Yvanne had said. I’m doing this for you, Loriel had said. So many times she had said that.

And it was true. It was! She was doing this for her, for the both of them. For all the Wardens. For all the people of Thedas. Because she was the Hero of Ferelden, and a piss-poor one at that, and she owed this to them. And to her Wardens. And to Yvanne, and to herself.

It was true. Wasn’t it? It was. It was! She was doing this for her. For everyone, but really just for the two of them. Who gave a damn about anyone else? The world had turned its back on them, over and over. Loriel had struggled so hard to save them, and were they grateful? They weren’t. Was it so wrong to want to do something for the one she loved?

(If Yvanne really loved her she would have been grateful. If she really loved her she would have supported her. If she really loved her she would have been able to see—)

—

That year had been a late winter followed by an early summer, and Loriel nearly missed the whole spring.

Months later (who knew how many). The same argument.

Yvanne had said: How do you think I feel?

How you feel, Loriel thought scornfully. “How you feel!” she said, not nearly as scornfully. “It’s always about you, somehow. Always about Yvanne and what Yvanne wants and how I can give it to her, that’s always been the story. Maybe if you really loved me—”

She broke off. That wasn’t fair. It wasn't fair and it wasn't true. Yvanne loved her. Loriel loved her back. That much was true. That was the one eternal constant of the universe.

It wasn’t fair and it wasn't true, and when Loriel could think straight she remembered it. But she was so tired, so exhausted that the world bent and twisted before her eyes and she couldn't tell truth from darkspawn blood.

She pinched the bridge of her nose . “I’m...I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight. I didn’t mean that.”

Yvanne seemed to soften. More than anything Loriel ached for comfort. Not even magic. A touch would do. She was reminded of the time at Redcliffe, when she had first done blood magic, and all she had wanted was reassurance that everything could be alright. Yvanne hadn’t given it then.

“You’re right. You aren’t thinking straight,” she said, not giving it now. “So let me know when you are.”

Usually at this point Loriel would storm off in a huff to go work, and in a few hours she would come back and everything would be forgiven. Because that was what love was about, wasn’t it? It was about pain. It was about forgiveness despite the pain. It was about the choice to love and forgive and forget the pain. But this time it was Yvanne who managed to storm away first, except she didn’t storm. She walked calmly and closed the door quietly, not in anger, but resignation. Loriel was left alone in their chambers, the last place where they still shared a life.

(Maybe if you really loved me—)

No, that wasn’t true, Yvanne loved her. ( But she couldn’t see her anymore .)

Loriel needed to sit down, but there were so many articles of clothing on the nearest chair that she sat on the bed (their well-used bed, that had so delighted her when this had all begun) instead. And even sitting took too much energy, so she lay back. Maybe she could sleep for a while. Just a little while, so she could think straight.

But sleep didn’t come. Her racing thoughts were wide awake, and hungry, and had no pity for her.

She had always been afraid that she wasn’t good enough for beautiful, vivacious, lovely Yvanne. That one of these days Yvanne was going to figure it out and leave her. For a long time she’d been holding her breath, waiting for the blow.

But maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe it wasn’t that she wasn’t good enough for Yvanne. Maybe it was that she was just all wrong for her ( wrong wrong wrong, it slithered through her mind like crawling worms in the dirt), maybe they only fit together at all because they’d grown together like the intertwining roots of trees. She thought of vines twisted together so tightly they had fused ( parasites, living off each other, sucking the life out of each other, unable to survive any other way)

Now they’d traded the Circle for the Wardens. And love born of terror, perpetuated in bondage, what was that worth?

What did they have in common, anyway? Their whole lives. Their magic. What else?

She stared into the darkness, wishing she knew some spell to end all thought.

(What else? What else? What else?)

—

It wasn’t about the blood. It was about the sacrifice.

In that sense, to call it blood magic was a misnomer.

You can’t get something for nothing. This was the oldest rule in the book, from back before there were books, before writing, before language. It was as simple as anything, and it was as true of entropy magic as of blood magic.

Loriel knew all about entropy. The rule of entropy was this: you can’t get something for nothing.

That was why it was impossible to draw her own blood, store it, restore herself, and use it later. Blood stored in a vial, divorced from the pain and loss it had caused, had no power. The blood itself was inert. It was the pain that mattered.

She had to suffer. It had to be this way. It could never have been any other way.

Life was pain. It wasn’t all pain. But it was pain, sure enough. And pain was life, for only living things could suffer. For every sting of the blade, she knew herself to be alive. Here she was in the depths of the underground, nearer to the deep roads (the darkspawn) than to the sunlight, but while she hurt she lived.

Yvanne didn’t understand that. Yvanne was a healer. She didn’t understand the necessity of pain. She never had.

But you can’t get something for nothing. That was the rule. (Loriel knew all about rules. She had always been so good at following the rules. So, so good, and what had it gotten her?)

Her current project involved attempts to refine blight from blood—her own, a darkspawn’s, and an archdemon’s. Each Warden-Commander was entrusted with a vial of Archdemon blood, a single drop of which was used in the Joining cup. Loriel had it here, a measly quantity of it. It ought to have been refilled when Urthemiel had fallen, but nobody had been there to tell her to take its blood. She hadn’t known she was supposed to do that, and now here she was wasting the small quantity she had away on her useless experiments. (But that could be a good thing, that could mean that when she used it all up there would be no more Wardens and if there were no Wardens that meant there was no Warden-Commander and if there was no need for a Warden-Commander then Loriel could—go where? Do what?)

She wanted to understand what made Warden’s blood different from darkspawn blood, and what made both of them different from archdemon’s blood. She had for days now been heating, distilling, refluxing, heating again, countless hours spent staring at glassware full of the murky stuff, ( half-wondering what it would feel like to take the vials and smash them on the table and feel the shards of glass in her skin ), because surely it couldn’t be a matter of mere concentration. Darkspawn were not Wardens with more Blight inside them. And Archdemons were something different entirely.

Why were all the archdemons dragons? What did dragons have to do with Blight? But no, not dragons—old gods. But why were the old gods in the form of dragons? The Chantry would say that they were false gods of no significance, but even if that were true, why would beings clearly much more powerful than mere animals take those forms? Urthemiel had been the god of beauty; the Architect had been his high priest. Loriel had slain Urthemiel. She had driven a sword—

( she barely knew how to use it, it should have been Yvanne, it should have been her, none of this was meant for her, that was why she was down here in the dark, because she had taken what rightfully ought to have been somebody else’s, because she had transgressed, and now she was being rightfully punished )

—through its skull. She remembered how its bones had cracked. It had already been most of the way to dead by the time she finished it off. She’d hardly contributed to its killing at all.

(she’d picked up the sword, nearly as long as she was tall, because she happened to be nearby, it had just happened, she hadn’t meant to—)

Did the Architect know that? Did he know she had slain his god? Did he still regard the archdemon to be his god? It was no more corrupted than he was. (Would that be Loriel’s fate? Was that the fate of every Warden, to someday become the monsters they fought? What was the difference between them and the monsters, anyway? That wasn’t so bad. She’d been a monster all her life, what would be the difference?)

The bright blade bit into her scarred skin. The veins there were weakening. She would have to pick a new place to cut, soon. Her blood ran hot and warm down her skin. Loriel incanted. Nothing happened.

(What was the Architect’s name? What had he looked like? Who had he been when he had been a man?)

She changed the words of the incantation, then the pronunciation. She changed how she held her fingers. She cast again and again. Nothing happened.

(He deserved it though, that’s what he got, for breaking the rules. Rule-breakers had to be punished, that was the rule. That’s what he, what she deserved. That’s what she deserved, for expecting something for nothing.)

Her blood clotted and the flow stopped. It still hurt, but was that enough? No, it wasn’t, she could tell. The pain was necessary but not sufficient. She needed to bleed to cast spells like this, or else they’d always fail, and she’d have no one but herself to blame.

The knife bit into her flesh again.

(Yvanne didn’t understand, of course she didn’t, how could she?)

She didn’t feel the knife slip from her numb fingers, and though she felt herself slipping, felt herself fall, by the time she hit the floor she had already slipped into something like sleep—but not peace.

She dreamt herself in the Black City, wandering its winding streets and high towers. She knew only that she was desperately searching for something—someone?—that she couldn’t find. When she looked down at her hands they were claws, the bulging veins there black with the same Blight that ran through the gutters and oozed down the walls. It flooded the streets and rose higher and higher, up to her hips and shoulders, in her mouth and her eyes and over her head, and all was black.

—

Loriel woke slowly. First she became aware of her body and the bed it was lying in. At first she didn’t notice anything unusual, and then she did—the absence of pain. Nothing ached or throbbed or stung. She felt better than she’d felt in many months. She was suffused with the vague sense that whatever dreadful thing had been happening, it was over now, if it had ever even happened. Perhaps it had only been a terrible dream.

For a while she let herself float peacefully in the dim twilight of half-sleep, aware enough to relish the glorious lack-of-pain. But finally she had no choice but to open her eyes, and remember everything.

Yvanne sat sleeping in the wooden chair besides the bed. Her cheek pressed against her shoulder, her chin on her chest. It looked singularly uncomfortable.  Loriel wondered why she’d sat there instead of getting into bed with her. She reached out and touched her gently on the elbow.

Yvanne started, her eyes flying open, then relaxing. There were dark circles under her eyes, and they were red-rimmed; she’d been crying, but had stopped some hours ago, presumably when she’d fallen asleep.

“You’re awake,” she managed, “That’s good.”

Loriel coughed hoarsely. Her throat was dry. “How long was I…?”

Yvanne glanced out the window. It was dark, with no trace of either daybreak or sunset. The candles were all extinguished, and all that illuminated the room was a trio of Fade-wisps fluttering around Yvanne’s head like a halo, casting her in an eerie greenish light. “I don’t know. Most of a full day, I think.”

A glass of water stood on the bedside table. Loriel drained it, leaning on her elbow. She opened her mouth to ask what happened, and then closed it. Some of her memory was trickling back, as though after a hard night of drinking. You bloody idiot, I’m afraid for you! I’m afraid I’m going to walk in on you in a pool of your own blood and won’t be able—

Instead she lay back. She knew better than to insult her by apologizing. The fact that she was even thinking of apologizing annoyed her. I’m the one that almost died, and somehow I need to comfort her ?

Eventually Yvanne said, “How do you feel?”

Loriel thought about it. “Good, actually,” she said. “Better than I’ve been. Much better.” Whatever exact combination of healing spells and potions Yvanne had administered, it had really done the trick. She felt like she could think clearly for the first time in...she didn’t even know how long. She was herself again.

She had the sudden traitorous thought—all along Yvanne could have helped her like this, and for whatever reason, she hadn’t.

“That’s good.”

What a funny path life took. Only a handful of years ago their positions had been reversed, and it had been Loriel sitting and fretting at the bedside, feeling helpless and afraid. She didn’t feel helpless or afraid now. She just felt tired—clear-eyed, but so tired.

“Thank you.”

At that Yvanne couldn’t take it anymore. She drew a rattled half-sob of a breath, and suppressed a hiccup. “‘ Thank you’? What was I supposed to do, leave you there?”

It occurred to Loriel how exhausted Yvanne looked. Not just tired, but...older. It could have been only the flickering Fade-light, but—some of the lines on her face looked new. Were they really new, or had Loriel just not been paying attention? Would she have turned to her, years down the road, and been surprised to see an aged face looking back at her?

All at once the guilt crashed over her, so intense it made her nauseous.

It would have been easier if she’d loved her any less.

Did you love me for me , she thought, or because there was no one else? And that thought hurt.

Then she thought, did I love you for you? And that thought hurt much worse.

“Loriel, I…” Yvanne swallowed, staring at her laced fingers between her knees. “Loriel, I can’t do this anymore. Something has to change.”

You’re right, Loriel thought, deciding. It does.

She struggled into a sitting position, and then realized it wasn’t much of a struggle. She was only stiff from sleeping so long. She scooted out of bed and found herself shivering in only a billowing nightgown. She didn’t have to look long for her robe; Yvanne had put it in the top drawer of the northmost chest of drawers. Her feet were cold on the stone floor, but she could live with that.

She went to her desk, rummaged for parchment and ink and quill. It was really more Yvanne’s desk these days, and she kept it in order. She stood as she wrote; the document would not need to be long. It only required her signature, and her seal.

“Do you know where my signet ring is?” Loriel asked.

“Upper right drawer,” Yvanne said automatically. She hadn’t spoken or moved, had only watched Loriel move about the room with uncertain eyes.

She found the ring. “Thank you.” Sealing wax lay in the same container, dark burgundy stuff; blue was more fitting for the Warden-Commander, but red would do. She dripped the wax onto the bottom of the document and pressed her ring into it, leaving an impression of the double-headed griffon symbol of the Wardens. The ink had had time to dry while she’d fumbled with the wax.

She read over what she wrote, once, twice, thrice, just to make sure. But her mind was clear, and short of letting it sit overnight—not an option—she was sure she’d covered all her legal bases.

Yvanne finally rose. “Loriel?” she said hesitantly. “What is that?”

Loriel rolled up the parchment and handed it to her before she had a chance to lose her nerve.

“It is a legal document, signed and sealed by the lawfully appointed Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, and Lady of Soldier’s Peak,” said Loriel. “It states that Warden-Lieutenant Yvanne Amell is abroad on official Grey Warden business of highest priority, and that any attempts to impede her free movements will be met with swift reprisal by the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and the Ferelden Crown. And there’s some more legal jargon at the bottom if you want to review that.” She raised her chin. “I can’t promise it will keep you safe from anything out there, far from it, but it should make public life as a mage on her own a much easier prospect.”

I can’t do this anymore, Yvanne had said. It was her favorite gambit. It meant— I’m doing as I’ve decided. Do whatever you want, but my course is set. Most times in their life it had been a bluff—until Amaranthine.

Well, no more.

“I don’t...what?” Yvanne looked at the parchment, then at her. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Loriel said tiredly. “You don’t understand. And you never will.”

She knew it for the truth as she said it. For the nearly twenty years that they had known each other, for all the things they shared, for all that they had walked within each other's very souls, Yvanne would never understand. What did Yvanne know about darkness, about decay? Yvanne grew gardens and built castles in the sky, content to pretend that the world ( their bodies (them)) weren’t falling apart. Yvanne would never understand Loriel, and Loriel—it had become now blindingly obvious—would never understand Yvanne.

Loriel would never understand Yvanne, and she was tired of trying.

For an endless, awful moment they stood suspended in time. Yvanne stared at the parchment, the wheels in her head turning and creaking as it dawned on her, the full significance of what Loriel meant. In that long moment, it dawned on Loriel, too, the magnitude of it. She was standing on a shore, beholding a massive wave rising up to swallow all that she knew, and it had not crashed down on her head yet, but it would, any second now, it would.

“Are you telling me to go?” Yvanne said. Just to make sure. Just in case she’d misunderstood.

Ask me to come with you, Loriel thought then, desperately, as though that was going to save them. If she only asked, Loriel’s resolve would break, and she would have said yes. She would have followed her to the ends of the earth, if only because the prospect of living without her had now become terrifyingly real.

But Yvanne didn’t ask.

She didn’t ask, Loriel would tell herself later. She never asked.

Loriel would remember for the rest of her life the sight of Yvanne clutching the parchment and tearing out of the room. Loriel didn’t know why she would go after this—only that it would be far away, and that she was unlikely to ever see her again. Because she understood as well as Loriel did, what this meant for them—that the farce was finally over, the soap-bubble of their shared dreams well and truly popped. As it had always been destined to be.

For Loriel’s basic nature was that of entropy, and that meant she understood the nature of all things was to, eventually, cease. Every mechanism must someday wind down, and every life must eventually extinguish, and every love must eventually fizzle. You could run and run and run, but entropy would always get you in the end. Loriel had tried denying it, had tried cheating it, but it was no good.

Because you couldn’t get something for nothing. That was what Yvanne couldn’t seem to understand.

And that was why it had to be this way. That was why it had to end.

#dragon age #dragon femslash #amell #surana #dragon age: awakening #please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction

[tatterdam-wingsofmaybe]

 from @furiousgoldfish

“Have I been manipulated into believing abuse was my fault?” game. Bold all the items that happened to you, if you’re not sure, italicize! Alternatively, just write down the score for every category. TW for explicit abuse mention.

Brainwashing; forced to take responsibility for abuser’s actions:

I was forced to apologize after being beaten/abused

I was beaten/abused while apologizing and in obvious pain

I was beaten/abused while crying

I was forced to thank them for beating/abusing me

I was forced to promise them I would change my behaviour in the future

I wasn’t allowed to cry or express pain after being beaten/abused

I was told the parent was the one with the right to cry/be upset after beating/abusing me

I was forced to comfort them after they beat/abused me

I was forced to take on pain/humiliation/guilt until I would agree that it was all my fault

I was forced to agree that I was forcing them to beat/abuse me, with my misbehaviour

I was forced to agree that I deserved the abuse

I was forced to make up to them after they would abuse me

I was forced to clean up the mess they made during abuse

I was forced into breaking down to tears if I tried to fight for myself

I was forced to hurt myself to prove my remorse for behaviour

I was forced to repeat that it was my fault

I was told the abuser didn’t enjoy doing it and was in fact forced to do it for my own good

I was called a monster/demon/sadistic/evil and accused of enjoying abuser’s pain

I was told abuse was done for my own good and that one day I will understand and be grateful for it

I was expected to have positive reactions to abuse and any negative reaction was blamed on me

I was punished for showing trauma symptoms and for showing in any way that I was abused, only acceptable way of behaviour was obedience and unconditional gratitude

I was told others were treated exactly like this, even if they weren’t showing it, and that the abuse was completely normal

I was told my reactions weren’t normal and made to focus on how I was reacting to the abuse, rather than damage and injustice done to me

I was told my reactions to abuse were the reason of the abuse, and that I was in the wrong for fighting/pushing back/provoking/not listening/not being obedient enough/angering the abuser

I was told the abuse was because “I wouldn’t have it the nice way”

I was forced to endure harsh punishments for even a small mistake or no mistake at all

I was told all I got was what I deserved, even if I couldn’t connect to how I deserved it, except that the abusers felt I did

Note: Doing any of these to a child after having them go through beating or intense episode of shock, pain and fear will leave them in a broken and vulnerable state of mind, and anything said to them or forced onto them while in that state will imprint deeply into their subconscious, and they will accept the message without being able to fight it. This is a method of brainwashing. Abuser will do this to crush child’s spirit and to destroy the child’s ability to hold abuser accountable or responsible for any abuse that occurs in the future, to transfer all the guilt and responsibility for their own actions onto the child, and depict themselves as too powerful for child to ever be able to stand against.

Dehumanization: implication you are below a human being and thus do not deserve humane treatment

I was called animal names/slurs/insults and degrading terms continually

I was told I should be beaten up and abused more often than I was

I was compared to beasts and monsters when the abusers were angry

Beating/abusing me was talked about as if it was a good thing they were proud of

I was publically beaten and/or humiliated

I was threatened with public humiliation

I had my physical injuries minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my psychological and emotional damage minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my illness minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my needs and desires minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my achievements and accomplishments minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my opinions and thoughts disregarded and ridiculed as stupid, unwanted and unimportant

I was blamed for struggling with mental or physical illness

I was called crazy, delusional and insane if I pointed out the unfair treatment

I was looked at with disgust and contempt most of the time

I was accused of wanting to be abused and asking for it

I was accused of “causing a scene” when the abuser would lash out at me

I was forced to “learn my place” if I assumed the same rights everyone else had

I was excluded from positive activities the rest of the family participated in

I was denied the rights, benefits, resources and attention the rest of the family got

Forced gratitude/implication of debt: idea that you “owe” your parents to endure their abuse

parent kept reminding me of what they’ve done for me, even the most basic parental tasks

parent often stated or implied I was ungrateful/not grateful enough for them

parent insisted they were sacrificing themselves for me, implying they expect the same in return

parent kept pointing out others lower living standards to remind me I was “lucky” in comparison

parent demanded I would have to “earn” basic respect and boundaries

parent would not allow me to complain, object or resist their treatment and if I tried, they would remind me I deserved even worse

parent insisted any abuse is perfectly acceptable and rational and that I am wrong and “taking advantage of them/denying their rights” if I resist or fight it

parent stated or implied that I’m supposed to return their effort to them with favours, obedience, endurance and compliance, or I was not worth raising and being kept alive at all

parent insisted that they have the right to do anything to me since they’re the only reason I’m alive at all (I was treated like their property)

parent made it clear it was forbidden to speak of past abuse or past events that show them in bad light, but they would keep bringing up events which paint them as good parent and keep them central to how they should be perceived by me

parent accused me of making things up/lying/being crazy or mentally ill/trying to manipulate or hurt them when I tried to talk about an event of abuse and point out they hurt me

parent kept me hyperaware of how much I owe them and how much I would risk losing if I dared to accuse them/confront them on being abusive

parent would remind me it could be much worse, and would use other people’s suffering to shut me up and make me feel guilty for even thinking I could talk about my own issues

parent kept me aware that accusing them of any abuse is hurtful and abusive towards them, and that I am cruel and ungrateful if I dare to make any statement like that

parent told me I was wrong/weird/stupid for getting traumatized by abuse because “others wouldn’t get traumatized by that much”

parent made me aware of all the issues they were dealing with, and treated my needs for attention and positive environment like an extra issue they do not want to deal with

parent kept me aware of how sick/mentally ill/troubled/desperate/tired they were and kept me feeling guilty over not doing enough for them, not being enough of a support and help, and having my own needs and wants was out of the question

parent made me aware they’re ready to abandon me if I prove to be “too much work” or “too inconvenient” or even just “not obedient enough”

parent made sure I know all their other issues and life problems were more important than me, and that it was not my place to complain, ask for anything, or object to how I’m treated

parent accused of “living in the past” and “failing to be a bigger person” if I didn’t show perfect adoration and acceptance for them

parents assured me i would turn into a spoiled, arrogant brat had they not abused me

Societal brainwashing; forcing the idea that no parents are abusive, and that all parental abuse has to be forgiven at any cost

parent/society taught me I was a bad/selfish/ungrateful person unless I forgive and forget all and any abuse

parent/society taught me I was an awful, ungrateful and selfish child if I didn’t demonstrate perfect love and gratitude for my parents

parent/society taught me it was my duty to understand and accept my parents, and that no matter what, they were doing their best and wished only the best things for me

parent/society taught me that I was responsible for teaching my parents how to be better people

parent/society taught me I should never judge or accuse my parents because “I couldn’t possibly understand how hard time they’re having”

parent/society taught me any animosity, hatred, anger or any negative thing I had to say about my parents proved me to be bad, ungrateful and unappreciative person

parent/society taught me that all parents only want the best for their children and there are no parents who hate or hurt their children on purpose

parent/society taught me that there was nothing that can be done about me getting hurt by my parents, and that it was up to my parents to decide what I deserve

my parents/society taught me that being bothered by abuse was my own fault and if I wasn’t weak and pathetic, it wouldn’t have affected me at all

my parents had other people affirm they were good people and thus I was wrong to accuse or judge them for anything they did to me

my parents had other people agree that I was not normal and there was something wrong with my judgment and perceptions, so my point of view shouldn’t be trusted or even taken into consideration

my parents had other people agree that I was a selfish, unappreciative, and hard to raise child

i had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/acquaintances/therapists side with my abusers and against me

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/therapists defend my abuser and take their side, assuring me I have to, once again, forget my point of view and consider abuser’s side

I had other people/society defend the abuser and assure me I’m wrong to accuse them

my parents insisted the abuse/parts of abuse/events i remembered didn’t even happen, and that there was something wrong with me for making up such a thing (gas-lighting;guilt tripping, maybe i should write another category for this one)

my parents were a part of religion/cult that excused all and any of their actions because they were doing it for the sake of the third party that had to be worshiped/obeyed (maybe i should write a cult category as well there is much more to this one)

If you bolded even one of the items on the first two categories, or multiple ones in third and fourth, you have undergone psychological abuse that would force you to believe it was your fault, or that you deserved the abuse. This is wrong, as you neither deserved it, nor it was your fault. You were a child, and there was no way for you to commit any crime bad enough to deserve anything like this. These methods are used for brainwashing and breaking a person, and abusers do these on purpose.

[the-bren-system]

“Have I been manipulated into believing abuse was my fault?” game! Bold all the items that happened to you, if you’re not sure, italicize! Alternatively, just write down the score for every category. TW for explicit abuse mention.

Brainwashing; forced to take responsibility for abuser’s actions:

I was forced to apologize after being beaten/abused

I was beaten/abused while apologizing and in obvious pain

I was beaten/abused while crying

I was forced to thank them for beating/abusing me

I was forced to promise them I would change my behaviour in the future

I wasn’t allowed to cry or express pain after being beaten/abused

I was told the parent was the one with the right to cry/be upset after beating/abusing me

I was forced to comfort them after they beat/abused me

I was forced to take on pain/humiliation/guilt until I would agree that it was all my fault

I was forced to agree that I was forcing them to beat/abuse me, with my misbehaviour

I was forced to agree that I deserved the abuse

I was forced to make up to them after they would abuse me

I was forced to clean up the mess they made during abuse

I was forced into breaking down to tears if I tried to fight for myself

I was forced to hurt myself to prove my remorse for behaviour

I was forced to repeat that it was my fault

I was told the abuser didn’t enjoy doing it and was in fact forced to do it for my own good

I was called a monster/demon/sadistic/evil and accused of enjoying abuser’s pain

I was told abuse was done for my own good and that one day I will understand and be grateful for it

I was expected to have positive reactions to abuse and any negative reaction was blamed on me

I was punished for showing trauma symptoms and for showing in any way that I was abused, only acceptable way of behaviour was obedience and unconditional gratitude

I was told others were treated exactly like this, even if they weren’t showing it, and that the abuse was completely normal

I was told my reactions weren’t normal and made to focus on how I was reacting to the abuse, rather than damage and injustice done to me

I was told my reactions to abuse were the reason of the abuse, and that I was in the wrong for fighting/pushing back/provoking/not listening/not being obedient enough/angering the abuser

I was told the abuse was because “I wouldn’t have it the nice way”

I was forced to endure harsh punishments for even a small mistake or no mistake at all

I was told all I got was what I deserved, even if I couldn’t connect to how I deserved it, except that the abusers felt I did

Note: Doing any of these to a child after having them go through beating or intense episode of shock, pain and fear will leave them in a broken and vulnerable state of mind, and anything said to them or forced onto them while in that state will imprint deeply into their subconscious, and they will accept the message without being able to fight it. This is a method of brainwashing. Abuser will do this to crush child’s spirit and to destroy the child’s ability to hold abuser accountable or responsible for any abuse that occurs in the future, to transfer all the guilt and responsibility for their own actions onto the child, and depict themselves as too powerful for child to ever be able to stand against.

Dehumanization: implication you are below a human being and thus do not deserve humane treatment

I was called animal names/slurs/insults and degrading terms continually

I was told I should be beaten up and abused more often than I was

I was compared to beasts and monsters when the abusers were angry

Beating/abusing me was talked about as if it was a good thing they were proud of

I was publically beaten and/or humiliated

I was threatened with public humiliation

I had my physical injuries minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my psychological and emotional damage minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my illness minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my needs and desires minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my achievements and accomplishments minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my opinions and thoughts disregarded and ridiculed as stupid, unwanted and unimportant

I was blamed for struggling with mental or physical illness

I was called crazy, delusional and insane if I pointed out the unfair treatment

I was looked at with disgust and contempt most of the time

I was accused of wanting to be abused and asking for it

I was accused of “causing a scene” when the abuser would lash out at me

I was forced to “learn my place” if I assumed the same rights everyone else had

I was excluded from positive activities the rest of the family participated in

I was denied the rights, benefits, resources and attention the rest of the family got

Forced gratitude/implication of debt: idea that you “owe” your parents to endure their abuse

parent kept reminding me of what they’ve done for me, even the most basic parental tasks

parent often stated or implied I was ungrateful/not grateful enough for them

parent insisted they were sacrificing themselves for me, implying they expect the same in return

parent kept pointing out others lower living standards to remind me I was “lucky” in comparison

parent demanded I would have to “earn” basic respect and boundaries

parent would not allow me to complain, object or resist their treatment and if I tried, they would remind me I deserved even worse

parent insisted any abuse is perfectly acceptable and rational and that I am wrong and “taking advantage of them/denying their rights” if I resist or fight it

parent stated or implied that I’m supposed to return their effort to them with favours, obedience, endurance and compliance, or I was not worth raising and being kept alive at all

parent insisted that they have the right to do anything to me since they’re the only reason I’m alive at all (I was treated like their property)

parent made it clear it was forbidden to speak of past abuse or past events that show them in bad light, but they would keep bringing up events which paint them as good parent and keep them central to how they should be perceived by me

parent accused me of making things up/lying/being crazy or mentally ill/trying to manipulate or hurt them when I tried to talk about an event of abuse and point out they hurt me

parent kept me hyperaware of how much I owe them and how much I would risk losing if I dared to accuse them/confront them on being abusive

parent would remind me it could be much worse, and would use other people’s suffering to shut me up and make me feel guilty for even thinking I could talk about my own issues

parent kept me aware that accusing them of any abuse is hurtful and abusive towards them, and that I am cruel and ungrateful if I dare to make any statement like that

parent told me I was wrong/weird/stupid for getting traumatized by abuse because “others wouldn’t get traumatized by that much”

parent made me aware of all the issues they were dealing with, and treated my needs for attention and positive environment like an extra issue they do not want to deal with

parent kept me aware of how sick/mentally ill/troubled/desperate/tired they were and kept me feeling guilty over not doing enough for them, not being enough of a support and help, and having my own needs and wants was out of the question

parent made me aware they’re ready to abandon me if I prove to be “too much work” or “too inconvenient” or even just “not obedient enough”

parent made sure I know all their other issues and life problems were more important than me, and that it was not my place to complain, ask for anything, or object to how I’m treated

parent accused of “living in the past” and “failing to be a bigger person” if I didn’t show perfect adoration and acceptance for them

parents assured me i would turn into a spoiled, arrogant brat had they not abused me

Societal brainwashing; forcing the idea that no parents are abusive, and that all parental abuse has to be forgiven at any cost

parent/society taught me I was a bad/selfish/ungrateful person unless I forgive and forget all and any abuse

parent/society taught me I was an awful, ungrateful and selfish child if I didn’t demonstrate perfect love and gratitude for my parents

parent/society taught me it was my duty to understand and accept my parents, and that no matter what, they were doing their best and wished only the best things for me

parent/society taught me that I was responsible for teaching my parents how to be better people

parent/society taught me I should never judge or accuse my parents because “I couldn’t possibly understand how hard time they’re having”

parent/society taught me any animosity, hatred, anger or any negative thing I had to say about my parents proved me to be bad, ungrateful and unappreciative person

parent/society taught me that all parents only want the best for their children and there are no parents who hate or hurt their children on purpose

parent/society taught me that there was nothing that can be done about me getting hurt by my parents, and that it was up to my parents to decide what I deserve

my parents/society taught me that being bothered by abuse was my own fault and if I wasn’t weak and pathetic, it wouldn’t have affected me at all

my parents had other people affirm they were good people and thus I was wrong to accuse or judge them for anything they did to me

my parents had other people agree that I was not normal and there was something wrong with my judgment and perceptions, so my point of view shouldn’t be trusted or even taken into consideration

my parents had other people agree that I was a selfish, unappreciative, and hard to raise child

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/acquaintances/therapists side with my abusers and against me

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/therapists defend my abuser and take their side, assuring me I have to, once again, forget my point of view and consider abuser’s side

I had other people/society defend the abuser and assure me I’m wrong to accuse them

my parents insisted the abuse/parts of abuse/events i remembered didn’t even happen, and that there was something wrong with me for making up such a thing (gaslighting; guilt-tripping, maybe i should write another category for this one)

my parents were a part of religion/cult that excused all and any of their actions because they were doing it for the sake of the third party that had to be worshiped/obeyed (maybe i should write a cult category as well there is much more to this one)

If you bolded even one of the items on the first two categories, or multiple ones in third and fourth, you have undergone psychological abuse that would force you to believe it was your fault, or that you deserved the abuse. This is wrong, as you neither deserved it, nor it was your fault. You were a child, and there was no way for you to commit any crime bad enough to deserve anything like this. These methods are used for brainwashing and breaking a person, and abusers do these on purpose.

#YIKES THAT IS A LOT OF BOLD #its things like this that put things in perspective #iori #abuse #trauma #parental abuse #family abuse #child abuse #parents used to call juko a sloth bc his depression drains his energy #always ridiculing his symptoms

[icykalisartblog]

Rant: Why I Hate the Castlevania Netflix Dracula

I am so sick of seeing articles like “How Adi Shankar Made Dracula Sympathetic” or (hopefully) joking posts like “Dracula did nothing wrong.” I, personally, think the Netflix show removed all the sympathetic and nuanced characteristics Dracula had in the games and turned him into one of the weakest, most pathetic, most unlikable excuses for a villain I’ve ever seen and I want to explain why I feel that way because I’m sure that somewhere, there’s someone who feels the same way and is really angry about the constant praise lavished on the Netflix portrayal. 

Constantly praised is the show’s depiction of Dracula’s relationship with Lisa. While it was great to see their dorky first meeting, Lisa’s comment that the clergy shouldn’t kill her because her husband is doing “so much better” completely destroys this for me. In the games, Dracula was never a genocidal maniac prior to meeting Lisa. Yes, he was evil and his actions as Mathias led to people’s deaths, but he was living a fairly peaceful life as a vampire until Lisa was executed. Because Dracula was already killing people en masse in the TV show long before his romance with Lisa, it ruins any notion of his start of darkness being linked to her demise!

Dracula in the show is also constantly sulking like an emo teen. The creators even made a music video called “Emo Dracula” that pokes fun at this. Please people, stop pretending that standing in a dark corridor and muttering “I’m so alone” to yourself is dramatic... well, I suppose it is dramatic, but not in the way people keep saying it is. This behavior doesn’t make Dracula more sympathetic. It’s a self-indulgent sadness that makes him look weak and childish. Dracula in the games, while still mourning Lisa, at least acts like an adult and a leader. 

The worst part of it is that Dracula isn’t actually alone at all! In the show, Isaac is his one true friend and wants to stick with him through everything, and this relationship is another thing constantly praised as making Dracula sympathetic... but in reality this “friendship” is horribly unhealthy and basically consists of Isaac enabling Dracula’s moping (he even says “You’re so alone” to him in front of the court as Dracula sulks) while Dracula says he appreciates Isaac’s friendship and that he’s the best humanity has to offer, while ignoring all of Isaac’s self-flagellation. The equivalent to this friendship in the games would presumably be Dracula’s relationship with Death, which is mutually supportive and features them emotionally and literally empowering each other. How could making Dracula’s relationship with his best friend unhealthy in the show be more sympathetic? Also, this is not really important, but I think it’s worth mentioning that in the games, there’s a lot of interesting history between Death and Alucard since Death helped raise him. But in the show, Isaac never even gets to interact with the heroes and there is no history there. This issue extends to the rest of Dracula’s court in the show as well. In the games, Dracula is able to form several genuine friendships and close bonds with other monsters (Shaft, Carmilla, the monsters who hold his relics, etc.) and gathered misfits who were rejected by the church from the beginning. Dracula is able to unite quite a few disparate characters under excellent leadership. This is an admirable trait even though Dracula is unapologetically evil. But in the show, any respect I could have for his leadership goes out the window. All those vampires were on his side and ready to support him and he planned to have them all killed in a murder-suicide! His childish personality even leads him to take Godbrand aside and bully him by calling him short just for asking reasonable questions! And when the vampires rightfully question why they should serve humans, instead of giving the logical answer he tells Hector and Isaac later (that humans know humanity best) he simply snaps at his court and whines that since he’s the leader, they have to do as he says! What a terrible, treacherous leader! Finally, there is Dracula’s relationship with Alucard, often heralded as touching in the show. But how can I feel that way when one of the first things Dracula does with him is brutally scar his own son and abuse him? In the games, nothing like this ever occurs, and in SotN, it seems that Dracula is ready to welcome Alucard back “home” and spend time with him if he ever wants to return--this battle of good vs. evil is played more as a family struggle over ideals. But in the show, Alucard leaves the castle not only because Dracula is evil and disrespecting Lisa’s wishes, but because Dracula physically abused him. It’s ridiculous to me that people can say this Dracula is more sympathetic than the one in the games when this is the case. In fact, I smiled and laughed when Alucard staked and killed Dracula in the show because that was the ending a childish mopey abuser deserved.  In the end, I just don’t have any respect for the Netflix Dracula, nor any sympathy. As a newish fan of the games, Dracula’s leadership abilities and friendships with his servants really intrigued me, as did his surprisingly respectful interactions with Alucard and his other enemies. To see the show erase and twist all of these admirable elements and turn him into a weak, overemotional, treacherous, unsympathetic idiot was really too bad, but worse was seeing so many fans react as if this portrayal was the more sympathetic one. I really hope there are some fans who have kept quiet who feel the same way.

#vlad dracula tepes #Castlevania #character hate #I need an analysis/meta tag