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damnusillygoose · 3 years

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Series- Fairy tail

Pairing- Jerza

title-Resolve

Summary- with newfound optimism, erza and jellal, resolve the knitted tension in their relationship

fanfiction net- https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13961569/1/Resolve

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/34085569

Erza clutched the contents of her purchase closer to her chest as she made a hasty retreat across the boulevard, heading straight towards the residence of a person she wanted to visit. It had started drizzling a while ago and the group of people gallivanting in front her quickly split apart in order to find a shelter to rest. She ran towards the end of the street, nearing her place of destination.

Gasping lightly, she opened the doorknob and set the slightly damp contents near the door. She took off her boots and stepped into the hall.

‘Erza? Is that you?’, she heard a faint voice coming from the kitchen.

She walked past the living room, following the sweet husky that lured her in.

‘Yes, Jellal. Its me.’, brushing down her skirt, she examined her clothes and made a mental note to take a quick shower.

‘Did you find the stuff you were looking for?’, Jellal enquired he stirred the contents of the pot for their dinner.

‘I did. I will store it in my Requip space after it gets dry. It started drizzling on my way back’

‘Really? Do you want a warm towel to dry yourself?’, he left the stove at sim and walked closer to take a good look at her.

‘No, its fine. Can I take a shower though?’

‘Sure. Our dinner will be ready by then.’

She murmured a low thank you and smiled at him flirtatiously before making her way to the bathroom.

It was somewhat cruel, she pondered as the water droplets trail down her body. Fate had a cruel way of keeping them apart from each other. Before it was his self-resolve and now it was her priorities that she had to fulfil. She thought they would finally get some time together after the Aldoron episode but their misadventure to Elentir ended up absorbing their entire time. And before she knew, they had to prepare to leave for the 100 years quest.

She remembered briefly telling him of her Endeavours that her team undertook to follow unwaveringly. Of course, she wasn’t bound to disclose the details but she felt as if she was tricking him into something he didn’t sign up for. After all, she wasn’t sure when she would return from their 100 years quest. What will she tell him? How long will he wait? When would the mission ultimately end? 2 years? 5? 7? She didn’t know the answer herself.

Her heart started hammering uncontrollably as she recalled the night when he finally took her into warm arms, enveloping her into a hug that she yearned and dreamed for years, whispering in her ears that he was free to love people, which implied that he had forgiven himself and was trying to take a step towards resolving the knitted tension between them. That he was ready to face his feelings for her. That he was ready to show his affection for her openly, unrestrained by any underlying guilt, that he was ready to hold her hand and walk towards the future, their future, together.

Realising how much time she wasted being anxious in her thoughts, she quickly grabbed a towel, and changed into some casual wear. After informing Jellal of her intentions, he decided to invite her for dinner, at the inn he was staying, as a last attempt to spend some time together before her ultimate departure tomorrow.

She made her way to the kitchen where he was busy eviscerating the contents of the pot into their plates.

‘Already done? I wanted to help you.’

‘that’s okay. You’ve got lots of stuff to do tomorrow’, he smiled as he finished pouring their food, laying them in an elegant fashion on the table. She helped him in bringing some cutlery before settling down and digging into their food.

Their dinner was short and they made a quick small talk throughout it. He was talking more animatedly as compared to before, she noted. His features were relaxed, he was no more rigid or talking in a concise manner. They had a habit of bringing missions and current affairs in the magic world , into their conversations; to keep themselves updated with the happenings all around them. From a third persons perspective it would seem as if they only discuss work related matters but in actual reality, Erza realised that she could talk to him about literally anything.

She doesn’t really have to pretend in front of him. That was established a long time ago. They were each other’s saviour. They knew each other more than anyone else did. It amazed her somehow, how well they resonated with each other despite not spending much time like normal couples did.

Couple? Were they one?

The status of their relationship was still obscure but she felt they were getting somewhere. If not smoothly, but slowly and steadily they were progressing towards a definite answer. She felt even more confident after their little-date? Rendezvous? - she could call it a little rendezvous to be on the safe side.

She scurried the last remains of her food before settling her spoon besides her plate. She took the napkin kept before and wiped her mouth gently.

‘Did you like it?’ Jellal asked her curiously, as he slowly reached across the table and took hold of her hand.

‘I did. But it was a little spicy for my taste. But I enjoyed it!’, she responded vividly from her seat to make her intentions clear. She couldn’t help but notice, his display of affections was getting evidently frequent.

They had walked around the town during the day, catching up with each other after they had their little rendezvous, and the entire time they were together, Jellal didn’t let go of her hand even once. It felt nice to walk besides him, holding hands, blushing and chatting spiritedly. He would seldom squeeze her hand and pull her a little closer to whisper something in her ears. Was this for real?

‘Well would you fancy some wine?’, Erza snapped herself out of her daydream upon hearing his question.

‘Yes, of course!’

‘Sweet, let me bring the bottle’

She helped him pick up the dirty utensils. After washing and cleaning the dishes, they settled themselves on the couch in a cosy manner. They brought over the glasses and the bottle and lit up the fire place as the cold fumes had started to invade the room from outside.

‘It sure is getting cold, I wonder if the trains would get delayed if it were to start snowing’, she remarked as she rubbed her palms together.

‘Here’, Jellal handed her a glass of red wine, ‘ It will warm you up’

She accepted the glass and took a sip from it- relishing in that delicacy.

‘Have you ever tried a Gin, Jellal?’, he shook his head, ‘No I haven’t, I did see it on display when I went to buy the wine’.

‘It’s a flavoured vodka made from berries and has a nice citrusy touch to it. Add it to a coke with some lemon and ice cubes and you are good to go.’

‘How about we try it together next time we have meet for dinner or lunch?’

Next time. And when will that be?

Erza heaved a distressing sigh making it awfully palpable to Jellal that something was definitely perturbing her. He kept his glass on the table and gently nudged her.

‘I know something is eating you up. What is it?’, he caressed his fingertips against her cheek.

Erza crossed her legs, and hesitantly looked up to meet his eyes, ‘I can’t help but think how selfish it is of me to suggest you joining fairy tail while I go off on a long mission for gods knows how long. I don’t know when will I return. What will you do till then? You can’t wait for me indefinitely. I don’t know what to think. I feel happy spending time with you but when I think about my pending mission, I feel like I am deceiving you’

‘Alright, you don’t need to hammer yourself down by overthinking this issue excessively’, he swung his arm around her shoulders protectively. Erza sighed before leaning into his embrace naturally, snuzzling her head against his shoulder.

‘Personally, I don’t think you are deceiving me’

‘But I don’t know when will I return!’

‘I know, but you will return someday, right? I don’t know the details of your mission but I am aware that its rather dangerous and long. I…. I don’t mind waiting for you Erza.’

‘What if it takes 10 years for us to complete this mission?’

‘Then I’ll wait 10 years for your return. And no, I don’t think it will take this long to you guys. You are fairy tail’s strongest team after all. And I believe in your ability.’

Feeling some vitality return back to her fingers, Erza gently tugged his free hand, caressing his palm with her thumbs.

‘And it’s not like we would have no contact at all’, he continued to enliven her gloom,’ we have our lacrima phones with which we can talk every day and now with the recent upgradation we can video call each other as well. We just have to development techniques with which we can sustain our contact until you return.’

‘You really are positive about this.’, she looked up and finally smiled, nudging her nose with his cheek. The contact brought shivers down their spines despite the room being adequately warm with the fire lit.

‘I am finally living my life for first time in 29 years, Erza’, he whispered tenderly into her hair, ‘I can’t help not be positive. I have never felt like this before. My brain is gushing with ideas. I had a lot of time to contemplate about myself. There are so many things I want to experience. But first of all, I have to meet up with Meredy and inform her of the proposition you kept before me. I will let you know what our decision will be.’

Erza felt her heart burst with joy when she heard him talking about his future in such an invigorated manner, ‘There is no hurry’.

‘I know but that’s not the only reason I am meeting with her. We detected another suspicious activity near south of Hargeon. We are going to inspect that for a while’.

‘What about the rest of crime sorciere?’

‘A lot of them are busying doing their own stuff. I did inform them about our plan to meet for this mission but it’s their decision to take forth my invitation. I am not going to force my way of life on anyone’

‘I guess everyone has their own version and perception of freedom. Do you miss working with them?’

‘Well, they certainly were a difficult bunch to integrate, initially, but we all corroborated into a small family, I think’, Jellal smiled genuinely as he reminisced their time when they all travelled together in search of their goals and purpose. It did take them some time to get comfortable with each other but when they did, their search for purpose didn’t seem as hopeless as before. They lifted each other in times of despair. They all grew to forgive and love each other.

‘I am so happy for you, Jellal. I am happy to see you so full of life’, Erza lifted her head from his shoulder and took his face in her hands, with tears threatening to fall out, she took a deep breath and kissed his cheek tenderly.

‘Come here’, he could feel his breath quicken as he tugged her legs and urged her to sit on his lap. Erza, hesitant at first, hooked her left thigh over his lap and seated herself comfortably upon them. Her thighs rubbed against his as she noted how strong and muscular, they were.

‘I want to weave a future where I continue to grow as a person, Erza. And I want you beside me. In every step of life, I want to hold your hand and cross every dismay we encounter. And for that, I am willing to wait as long as I have to. So don’t worry about that. I’ll be here when you come back-till then, I will continue to work towards myself and my goal.’

That right there, was the little boy whom she fell in love with in the tower, who dared to challenge life and thrive against every single odd who mocked his resolve. Erza finally let those tears fall and flung her arms around his neck, crying helplessly. Jellal tighten his grip around waist and let his tears fall as well.

‘I love you, Erza. You are the love of my life.’

Erza leaned back to take a good look at his face, which was stained with tears, just like hers. They let out an untimely chuckle, their noses barely touching each other.

‘You are the only man in my heart, Jellal, I love you too’

Their breaths heaved fervently as they neared towards each other. His thumb caressed her cheek that dared to run lower, down to her throat. Their yearning for each other, the desire to hold each other unrestrained, countless nights-days they spent missing and worrying about their beloved’s health- encapsulated itself into a raging storm that invigorated with each breath they took, their sighs synchronised as they closed their eyes and let their lips clash. The entire downpour of emotions came gushing out as if enraptured in a dam. They let their lips meet, then again and then again. The tempestuous storm that reigned supreme came down debilitating into a tranquil walk taken in a warm sunny meadow.

Their arms tightened around each other, refusing to let go. They kissed again, and then again. They emitted a heavy breath and they could swear to God, they didn’t feel this serene before.

‘I love you’, they chanting this phrase for God knows how many times while kissing each other again and again. Resting their foreheads against each other, eyes half-lid from a drug called passion, their lips moved forward for a long and final smooch before going limp each other.

She held him with her arms around his neck, and she held him tight, revitalised with a newfound vivacity and perseverance.

They cuddled in his bed afterwards. He changed into a pair of shorts, shirtless. Erza changed into a pair of shorts and a thin black camisole, not wearing a bra, as she intentionally rubbed herself against his chest, tempting him further.

She flung her left leg over his torso, conquering him successfully. Jellal, flushed red from her actions, held her securely from her waist-kissing her fizzled hair occasionally. He took advantage of his position and didn’t miss an opportunity to play with hair, her hair that he revered so vehemently. He loved her and he wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.

‘It’s overwhelming’

‘What?’, she asked.

‘My feelings for you. I think they will break free and flood the entire town I am afraid. Am I making sense?’ Erza let out a snort as she nuzzled into his neck. Trailing her tongue from his ear to his pulse, she moistened that spot before sucking it and enticing a moan out of his throat.

‘I want to melt into you. Do I make sense?’, she pecked his cheek, awaiting a response from him.

‘You do’-he gasped for air- ‘and you don’t but ignoring the hyperbole, I know exactly what you are talking about. Because I feel the same’. He gave her a cheeky grin and claimed her lips in a passionate smooch. He pulled her on top of him and ran his hands up from her waist, under her camisole, touching every inch of her back, not missing a single spot, reaching the spot where he thought he would find her bra strap-only to find none. That confirmed his doubts when he felt her soft breasts press against him. She leaned down and captured his lips in another enamouring kiss.

‘Erza.’

‘hmm?’

‘Are we a thing now?’

‘a thing?’

‘I mean what is the status of our relationship? It’s kind of vague. Are we dating?’, Jellal put forth courageously, embattled with his own heartbeat drumming against this chest.

She bit her lip nervously and hid her face in his neck timidly, ‘Maybe, I guess.’

Jellal grabbed her waist and aroused from his laying position into a sitting one, taking support of the headrest behind him, he leaned back and took her face in his hands.

‘Erza’

She met his eyes and blushed, ‘Yes’

‘Will you be my girlfriend?’

Her face broke into a huge smile, the most charming smile he ever witnessed in his lifetime.

‘Yes!’, she squealed, brightly, and enraptured his lips into another alluring kiss that he seemed keen on returning.

‘I am going to miss you. I am going to miss you a lot Erza.’

‘Have you packed everything?’, Jellal asked her pensively, going through a list of necessities that she might need on her rough travels.

‘Yes’

‘The package from yesterday evening?’

‘Yes, everything is done’, Erza answered as she bends down to tie her boots.’ When do you leave for Hargeon?’

‘My train is at 5. I still have time to pack. I don’t have much stuff anyways’

‘I see. Keep me updated with the towns you visit.’

‘I will. You keep me updated with your travels as well.’

‘Of course. So, call me whenever to get time. If I don’t pick up, leave a message. And before I forget, keep sending me pictures of yourself!’, Erza chuckled as he kissed her forehead lovingly.

‘I will, my love. Only if you promise to send me pictures of yourself, maybe a little sexy if you have a chance’, he whispered the last part slowly sending shivers down her spine.

She snorted mischievously and shook her head.

‘I love you’, she declared sincerely.

‘I love you too. Take care of yourself.’ He took her face in his hands, cherishing the feel of her skin against his, and pulling her in for a final kiss. Long and imbued of love they harboured for each other.

#jerza #fairy tail #fairy tail 100 years quest #Jellal Fernandes #erza scarlet #jellal x erza #jellal and erza

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schizononsince · 2 years

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@tired-and-healing sorry it took me awhile to respond, I was busy with family. I'm posting this because it's a lot to respond to via replies. This will be a long post.

" there are entire towns that are mostly totally dependant on nearby prisons for jobs / economic support "

YES! The prison I worked for ( that I cannot disclose legally ) was actually nearby a small town- almost in the town. And the town relied on the prison to keep things going. The prison money even was devoted to buying and making an entire park for the area. I'm not sure if they made the inmates work to make the park, but I do know that there was no jobs available at this prison. Only orderly* things.

* orderlies are inmates or offenders that are tasked with helping CO's with daily functions; as well as tasked with chores around the prison.

" What is the dynamic between CO's and incarcerated people? "

There is no dynamic, simple as that. The inmates aren't your friends, and if you're an inmate, the guards aren't your friends. It's encouraged to not trust inmates because they will manipulate you into doing things for them. And they will. I'll give an example:

Let's say an offender stops you during count time or while you're passing out trays. He wants you do simply heat up his food in the pods microwave. He makes the task sound easy enough and even tries guilt tripping you.

In this situation, I personally tell the offender that he can ask the orderly provided to me for that task. Now why would I do that?

Because, let's say you do take the food and heat it up in the pods microwave. Well, then you try to move to the next guy, now he wants you to also microwave his food. So you do, but by the third or fourth guy, you're running way behind on feeding time and you have to tell him no. He threatens to stab you next time you're on his unit because you didn't heat his meal. Now you're in a situation over something as small and simple as a friendly task or act of kindness you showed one or two guys. Best case scenario, you get haggled off that pod. Worst case, the guys you heated the meal for are affiliated and now the whole pod assumes you're working for that gang. Which you don't want. So being friendly with inmates is discouraged. Now, that doesn't mean I personally treated them like animals, I still respected them ( though most my coworkers did not ). And i still stroke up a conversation about their day or about sports. But I never did any tasks outside of my job description for them because of the situation I explained above.

So as far as dynamics, there isn't one. I'm the guy with all the power and you're the guy whose gonna do jack about it. It's unfair as all get out, but it's how prisons these days work.

" How do people connect with each other and form friend groups in prison? "

During my time as a CO ( which was short lived ) I made pretty much no friends at that prison minus one guard who also said ' fuck this place ' and dipped.

Inmates make friends by mingling. They're just people in a situation that's unfair to them. They're all victims of a fucked system at this point and, for some of them, there is no getting out. That's not to say every inmate is trust worthy. A lot of them try to extort other inmates financially, sexually, physically, you name it. Some of those guys, they're crazy. You look at them and they're psychopaths that need mental help, kot prison. There's some nuts in there that you don't want to mess with. It all depends on who you are and who you run into.

Now, the guards? At this particular prison, where messy as hell. I mean messy, always gossiping about eachother. Always. You don't want to make friends with the other guards, because if they're talking about each other, you can guarantee they're talking about you too. And it's dangerous, because offenders know how to get information out of you about other guards. Guards talk, and inmates listen. You can slip up and tell an offender where your coworker lives without even realizing you did. And it's a dangerous thing, inmates know people outside. Some of my coworkers were followed home by cars after offenders threatened to put a " KOS " * on them.

* KOS is kill on sight. It's where offender's tell their connections outside the prison to kill you on sight.

" I think isolation is one of the worst things that can be done to a person. " - regarding punishments.

Cruel and unusual punishment is a thing. I'll never forget seeing that sergeant punch a fully restrained and riot gassed offender. I'll never forget seeing a OC gassed inmate stripped to his underwear and binded down to a metal operation table where he had sat for days. I won't forget that stuff. It's sick. It's fucking sick how they ' punish ' these guys.

And yeah, they do some bad shit. Inmates will put fecess on a shank to stab you and get you infected. They'll dash* you, they'll throw a home brew of acid on your face. But you have to stop and think, whats causing these guys to do this? What phycological horrors do they have going untreated that cause them to act this way? What fucked up oppressive system has them feeling like they have to do this to get by? It's sick. But cruel and unusual punishment isn't going to make them stop. Nor is it right.

* dashing is when the inmates piss in a bottle and throw it on you. Sometimes they let the bottle sit for long periods of time to allow the amonia to brew, sometimes they add bleach.

" I want to also know how the punishments effect CO's "

Depends on the CO. I've only written one or two RVRs in prison, one on an inmate who threatened me for being trans, and one on a guy who I was forced by my sergeant to write a RVR on. Otherwise, i never wrote one. I hated the idea of RVRs.

RVRs are basically like referrals you get in school. It's a report on you. A write up. RVRs can take / freeze your convensary and can also land you in the hole.

As far as how CO's took punishment ? It depends on the CO. Some loved writing RVRs, others did not. Some CO's are on a sick and twisted fucked up power high.. others are not. Depends on the guard.

" Do you feel like having the ability to dole out to people who can't structurely relate changes people / your co workers? "

It absolutely does. I personally didn't abuse my power in a way I knew of. But there were some guards just itching to take away your whole convensary, or to throw you in the hole*. I felt sick one night, watching a coworker stand there and brag about her power. She went as far as saying she loved the high it gave her, and the power she had was just so amazing. I couldn't relate.

I hope this helped and that you learned something from my responses.

#tw prison #tw corrections #ama #prison guard

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Victor’s R&S - Six out of Seventeen (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (“十七分之六”) will not be released in EN or any server as it’s one of the cancelled R&S which came with the Dream Heart Lake gacha event!🍒

This is a full translation, so you can follow along with the narrator if you want to!

Summary: Victor has been persistent in one thing for seventeen years. The part he lets other people know about is simply six out of seventeen.

Other cancelled Victor R&S:

> flashback

> paradise on earth

> so-called disparity

[ Chapter 1 ]

The first time he recognised his powerlessness was during that failed escape.

The second time was the sense of loss when his mother passed away.

The third time was when he faced the boundless sea of faces, at his wit’s end.

Victor will not say that he searched unceasingly for the girl for seventeen years.

It’s akin to how people talk about being secretly in love: Although they might say “I’ve harboured a crush on him/her for so many years”, “I’ve continued following him/her on social media all these years”, ultimately, they will not delay the things they have to do.

To Victor, “finding the girl” had a similar concept.

He will not enumerate how many hours and minutes he spent on this matter of “finding the girl”. One, there was no point in doing so. Two, he was slightly worried - what if he discovered that the problem which had been entrenched in his heart for such a long time was actually very trivial... what would he do then?

However--

It’s akin to how people talk about being secretly in love: Although he had no idea how the other party looked like now, the palpitations from back then, and the blurred face in his dreams always motivated him to press onward. Exactly because he couldn’t set it down, it turned into a permanent, clear moonlight in his heart.

To Victor, “finding the girl” remained the same as always - this matter was on track, even after he established his business.

After all, Victor was only eleven years old when the incident happened. As a young student, his abilities were limited. At the time, all he could do after school was check in on places the girl would often visit, but his investigations didn’t go smoothly. On one hand, his understanding of the girl was already extremely limited. On other other hand, the inside story of what happened during the orphanage incident was undisclosed.

He could have received some measure of support from his parents if he asked. But after going through the kidnapping, Victor understood that it would be better if fewer people knew about his superpower.

He wasn’t afraid his parents wouldn’t believe him. It was just that he was afraid his parents may get “implicated” in his personal secret. What if they ended up like the girl...

This was the reason why teenage Victor chose to delay the matter of “finding the girl” - not give up, but delay it.

At that age, Victor already understood the importance of preparation. In the years ahead, he was a good student in the eyes of teachers, a good student who looked as though he was perpetually in a bad mood, taciturn, and a bit heavy-hearted.

Even till he graduated from high school, none of his schoolmates knew about the kidnapping Victor experienced in childhood, and nobody knew that he had been continuously collecting materials related to back then. However, his roommates all knew that a girl’s name would occasionally surface when he talked in his sleep.

It’s thanks to this that nobody ever spread rumours about the girl. At an age where everybody loved to joke at another’s expense, nobody ever used Victor as a joke.

[ Chapter 2 ]

The first year Victor entered university was also the time social networking gained traction.

The reason why his business could develop at such a rapid pace was to a large extent attributed to social networking, which gave rise to the theory of Six Degrees of Separation.

Unfortunately, the social networking which helped Victor establish his business was unable to provide much assistance in “that matter”.

It wasn’t that Victor didn’t search for posts pertaining to the orphanage incident, but the content was mostly meant to attract attention.

Some who were steeped in fantasy said that the orphanage incident back then was the result of vampires causing trouble, and the orphans discovered in it were actually sustenance reserves for the vampires. Some who were more realistic made an analysis and claimed that it was a relatively large-scale child trafficking situation. Some who were inclined towards sci-fi asserted that it was an attack launched by aliens who had plans to take the children back to their planet to conduct experiments...

While Victor felt disappointed by such results, they were within his expectations. After all, the official materials which were disclosed back then were already limited to begin with, and the other children who were involved were too young, and lacked as clear a memory as he did - after being rescued, they had high fevers and may have even thought everything was simply a dream.

To Victor, all these arguments confirmed his deductions: He couldn’t use layman methods to find her.

As such, Victor hired a private investigator in the year he graduated from university.

Contrary to popular belief, private investigators existed among the people in the city.

It’s just that they generally had a different identity, and it was difficult to find them without a recommendation from someone else. Victor managed to locate this private investigator from a recommendation by one of his men. At that point, LFG had already established itself to a certain level. When the detective, whose surname is Bao, heard from the middleman that LFG’s Victor was looking for him, his first reaction was -

“CEO Victor, we have to make something clear. If this has to do with a company-related scheme, I don’t wade in such muddy waters.”

“Teacher Bao.” Addressing him as “teacher” was part of his upbringing and etiquette. However, the sentence which followed after was far from polite. “Do you know about the kidnapping incident which occurred in the orphanage eleven years ago?

He asked the other party to investigate the truth of what happened back then, along with an open reason - as a victim of the incident, he had the right to know.

“CEO Victor, telling me about this right after we just met... does this count as you having trust in me?”

“CEO Liang recommended you, and I trust him.”

Without saying anything else, Victor and Detective Bao agreed on a quarterly report, and then sent him out politely.

On the night of the conversation, the old detective received a payment much higher than the agreed remuneration. Only then did he believe that the guy he saw in the afternoon was truly what CEO Liang called an “awe-inspiring business elite”.

And he experienced the shrewdness of this “business elite” when he presented his first report three months later.

[ Chapter 3 ]

That day, Old Bao gave a voluminous speech spanning a full hour, thinking Victor would give one or two phrases of praise. Even a nod would have sufficed. However, he didn’t expect that after listening to the report, all Victor did was to move his fingers.

Victor’s slender fingers curled inwards, and he pointed towards a box in the corner.

“CEO Victor, this is?”

Ever since he withdrew from the media, Old Bao had not experienced many great storms. But he would never forget the answer Victor gave him. He said it lightly, but it could cause the listener to vomit three litres of blood.

“You’ve passed the test.”

It turns out that the box contained all the materials Victor collected over the years - some official and some not. 90% of the content was mentioned in Old Bao’s report - and that was what Victor based his “you’ve passed the test” on.

Because most of his clients were introduced by friends, goodwill was a guarantee provided by the middleman, which was why most of the transactions could be settled during the first meeting. But for someone like Victor...

It was the first time Old Bao met such a person.

So, he had been busying himself for nothing over the past three months? This report was basically just a test for him set up by Victor?

There was a particular moment when Old Bao really wanted to walk straight out the door. But for some inexplicable reason, this idea was throttled to death at the cradle.

Perhaps it was curiously. Perhaps it was the gut instinct of a detective--

He wanted to know what exactly Victor wanted to search for - to the extent that he didn’t hesitate to waste three months’ worth of time.

Thus, on such a foundation, their partnership commenced.

If it was because of curiosity at the beginning, a moment of impulse was what prevented Old Bao from rejecting this business. If he were to persevere, he had to find a motivation to tide him through long-term. After all, Old Bao would sometimes ask himself:

Why did he make the “humiliating” decision to provide his services to Victor? Purely out of curiosity? That was enough to cause him to throw his pride away? Isn’t his time also time?

Fortunately, every time Old Bao questioned his life, remuneration would be funnelled into his bank account, helping him find a new direction in his lost state.

Apart from this, having a new understanding of Victor was also another reason why Old Bai eventually made steady progress.

If he were to label Victor at the very beginning, it would be “taciturn”, “stern”, “proud and formidable”. After the first report, a few more labels would be added - “shrewd”, “meticulous” and “deserving to be called an elite”. However, as they interacted for a longer time...

Most of these were torn down by Old Bao himself.

After working with him for a year, he deduced that Victor’s patience and temper were actually much better than what he expressed on his face. Even though there was little progress in his investigation most of the time, he didn’t receive the severe criticism he expected, and the agreed-upon remuneration didn’t diminish because of it.

Faced with one after another of disappointing reports, Victor’s response would just be a few words, in keeping with his style -

Definite and decisive, resolute and persistent.

[ Chapter 4 ]

Sometimes, an inner struggle would surface in Old Bao’s mind: Could Victor have known that the girl was actually no longer on this earth, and his way of searching for a needle in a haystack was a form of coping? If that was the case, he’d just have to cooperate with Victor in acting out this charade, and he’d be able to earn a lot of money.

No, no, you can’t lack a conscience, especially as a detective. Since I’ve already accepted his money, I should carry out his work properly.

After three years of working with him, Old Bao felt as though he had waded into far muddier and complicated waters than a company-related scheme - clues to finding the girl were cut a few times. But as he dived further into the orphanage incident, a few questions started to be brought to the surface:

If the girl simply died in the accident, why was it that apart from her death certificate, most of her information had gone missing? If the kidnapping at the orphanage was just a simple incident, why did most of the people related to it vanish?

The overly conscious effort to cover up the matter could instead prove a few truths. For instance, there were huge stakes behind the orphanage kidnapping. For instance... that girl could still be alive, just that she had gone incognito and has had a change in identity.

After six years of working together, Old Bao finally fiound a key piece of information.

At the same time, he also understood the necessity of the test back then. When Victor told Old Bao his true objective, it was essentially entrusting his biggest secret into the hands of a stranger.

Old Bao examined himself. If he were in Victor’s position, he wouldn’t have been able to do it better than Victor did.

Old Bao suddenly understood why CEO Liang, who had only worked with Victor a few times, was so full of praise for Victor back then.

Since he had found important information, following the clues would be a quick task. Old Bao knew that their employer-employee relationship would not continue for much longer. With regards to this, he had mixed feelings.

One one hand, he felt as though a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. After being troubled by this issue for so long, there was finally a clue. On the other hand... he was reluctant to let go - after all, it had been a full six years.

He didn’t know whether he’d be able to meet someone as remarkable and talented as Victor in the future.

Such an appreciation transcended gender and age. It was a natural inclination humans have towards good things.

At the same time, he also hoped that Victor’s future could be smooth-sailing, and that he wouldn’t need to look for people like him to resolve troublesome matters.

This was a sincere blessing from a member of the older generation to a member of the younger generation.

As Old Bao tackled with this secret inner struggle, it was truly “speaking of the devil”. His phone screen lit up, and he received a new message, the contents containing only eight words:

“Investigate HBS. We will talk in detail tomorrow.”

“This person, he’s really...”

Without even looking at the sender, Old Bao already knew who this message was from. He felt an uncontrollable smile inch up his lips. Old Bao shook his head resignedly, and he didn’t know if he was mocking himself or feeling rueful. He continued.

“Really... very contradictory.”

Other cancelled R&S: here

Lucien’s cancelled R&S (by other user): here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc victor #cncancelled #after translating three r&s consecutively I came to the conclusion that #it doesn't matter how young or old you are #male or female #nobody can resist Victor's charm

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eighty-sixformyown · 3 years

Text

Youjitsu for somehow

Vol 4,5 2nd

“Whoa, that’s a lot of people.” Sure enough, the rest area near the fitness gym where the exam results were being disclosed was packed with many students. Near the monitor, there was a large sign that read, “Photography is strictly prohibited,” and two adults who seemed to be in relation with Tsukishiro were keeping a close eye on the students. The rankings and scores were displayed on a list of monitors, which seemed to be scrolling automatically. Right now, it’s showing the 50th to 60th place group members and their scores. “Nn......?” There was an inexplicable feeling of discomfort that I suddenly felt all over my body. What is it? The cause of this feeling is not immediately apparent, and I feel a kind of unspeakable weirdness. “I was going to take my time to look at the results, but I don’t think I can concentrate at all with this.” Ishizaki doesn’t notice that uncomfortable feeling, but he looks at the monitor and mutters in disgust. “It can’t be helped. I’m sure a lot of people would have liked to know the detailed results of the uninhabited island test.” Clicking his tongue in frustration, Ishizaki had no choice but to stare at the results from his spot. Although he has a bold personality, it seems that he can’t push his seniors to the front. One of the third-year students reached out and began to operate the monitor, which was an auto-scrolling monitor, but could be fixed by touching it with his hand and viewing the rankings at will. So, it was unlikely that Ishizaki would be able to see the top results he wanted to see any time soon. “What do we do now?” Even if he waited like this for a while, it would be a while before his turn came around. “I’m curious, but let’s not overdo it. It’s something we can look at later.” That’s what I said a few minutes ago... Well, as long as he understood, I guess. “By the way, do you notice anything?” “Huh? What?” Ishizaki, who was about to turn back, didn’t seem to notice anything. This strange atmosphere. The large number of gazes directed at me. It’s not something that can be put away as mere imagination. It’s not that Ishizaki next to me is dull and unaware of it. They simply aren’t watching Ishizaki. They’re only watching me. They are watching my every move with an obvious intent that they aren’t even trying to hide. All of the students watching us had one thing in common: they were all third-year students. I don’t know the details yet, but I’m pretty sure that Nagumo is involved in this. Has the case that I put off on the uninhabited island exam returned today? “What’s wrong?” Apparently, I was so lost in thought that Ishizaki was worried about me. “No, it’s nothing. It seems that other students are coming to see the results one after another, so let’s turn back.” “Alright, no problem.” I had imagined that Nagumo would set something up sooner or later, but this is a bit tricky. It would have been much easier if Nagumo had come directly to us and set something in motion. He made the first move that I didn’t want to be made. “Hey, you haven’t had lunch yet, right? Let’s eat together.” “Huh? Yeah, I haven’t eaten yet...” I started to walk away, but the third-year students didn’t seem to be following me. It seems that they were only looking at me. Either way, it’s extremely disturbing to be persistently gazed at. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t want to have dinner with me? That’s kind of rude.” “No, that’s not it. I was just thinking about something unrelated.” I knew I couldn’t involve Ishizaki in a bad way, but if they didn’t follow me, I guess it was okay. “It’s also rude to be thinking about unrelated things.” That was certainly true. Let’s just forget about the third year for now. “Are you sure it’s okay with me?” “It’s fine, we’re just going to have dinner together.” I can’t deny that I feel the pressure, but it doesn’t mean that I feel bad. I just can’t get over the fact that Ishizaki is treating me as a friend. “I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but I’m not asking you out like this because I want to bring you into my class. It’s because I like you as a

friend.” Without hesitation, Ishizaki uttered a line that made my teeth stand on end. But then, as if he realized something, he hurriedly turned around. “...are you being bothering by me by any chance?” “No, not at all.” “Right!” For a moment, Ishizaki looked as if he suspected that his actions were selfish, but he soon laughed it off. Well, I knew that he had this kind of personality. It’s not that I feel bad about it, so I guess I’ll follow Ishizaki. As the two of us left the place and began to move, we heard footsteps coming from behind us, running towards us. “Ayanokōji-senpai!” The owner of the footsteps was Nanase, who had been working with me throughout the first half of the uninhabited island exam. “So senpai came to see the exam results too?” “Yeah. But I’m not likely to be able to look at them slowly, so I gave up.” “I see. The third-years are all working on the monitors now, and it’s going to be a little while before we juniors can freely view them.” It seems that Nanase also wanted to know the details of the results, but she gave up. Ishizaki was looking at our exchange curiously. Come to think of it, Ishizaki didn’t know Nanase directly, did he? “Oh, hey Ayanokoji. When did you get to know such a cute and adorable girl?” “A lot of things have happened.” It’s very troublesome to explain everything from scratch, so I told him so in summary. “Hey, you’re not going to tell me you’re going out with your junior, are you?” “That’s too much of a leap, it’s just a relationship between a senior and a junior.” It was unusual for me to be confronted with this kind of thing. I thought Ishizaki was not deeply interested in heterosexual issues, but apparently not so much. “Do you want something from me?” I said turning towards Nanase. “No, I just felt like talking to you when I saw you.” Her straightforward eyes shine, and she says without hesitation something that might make me feel somewhat embarrassed. “I’m sorry to bother you. Excuse me!” I thought she was approaching me at a short run, but he was going somewhere else at a short run again. The inside of the ship is the same as the corridor, and I don’t think it’s a good place to run, but I guess it’s alright if she was careful. “That was a cute girl. And that thing was pretty cool too.” I don’t know what he meant by “thing” but I’ll ignore it. “You’re not really going out with her, are you?” “No, we’re not dating.” I don’t want to cause a misunderstanding and expand the conversation. So once again, I firmly denied it to Ishizaki in the form of a reminder. 2 When I came back to my room after dinner with Ishizaki, I found Ike standing in front of my room. He was looking at his cell phone restlessly, but when he looked up and looked left and right, our eyes met. “Oh, Ayanokōji! Thank God, I’ve been waiting for you!” Ike was waiting for me? Yet another unexpected turn of events. “Actually, I was thinking of going to visit Komiya now, and I was wondering if you wanted to join me.” Ike said as he approached me and leaned in to lend me an ear. “Me...?” “Well you see... I’m just a little uncomfortable going alone.” “Why?” “Why? I mean, you know. I’m... going out with Shinohara. After the exam, on the way back to the ship, there was a time when we were alone, and...” It seems that he confessed his feelings to her, and Shinohara gave him the okay. I had thought that it might progress, but it exceeded my expectations. “Well, congratulations.” I congratulated him honestly, and he looked away from me like he was telegraphing. “Oh, thank you. But from ...... From Komiya's point of view, I think I might have cheated.” “I don’t think so, though.” “No, I don’t think it’s fair. It’s like... playing dirty.” It is true that Komiya had to retire from the desert island test early because of some suspicious behavior. It’s not that you can’t use the term “sneaky” to describe it, but anyone can say that. It seems that Komiya was planning to confess to Shinohara during this exam. “I was really thinking of waiting until after Komiya’s injury was healed, you know? But when I was relieved that

the exam was over, and Shinohara’s guy was beside me..., I felt like I didn’t want to give her to Komiya...” It seems that he confessed to her without thinking. Of course, there was also the risk of being rejected. If that had happened, it would have made things even more awkward after Komiya and Shinohara got together. “That’s why I felt I had to properly report it to Komiya. Man, to man. If he was also planning to confess to Shinohara, it would be complicated, right?” “If you didn’t make the first move, you would have been in trouble if Shinohara decided to go for Komiya after all.” “Ehhh?! Why are you saying that...?” Ike was upset as he exaggeratedly flinched. Half of him wanted to give a report, and the other half wanted to stop him from confessing. “You’re prepared to get hit at least once, aren’t you?” “What? I’m going to get hit?!” “Wouldn’t you do that if the person you love was snatched from your side?” Ike looked frightened, as if he got scared from imagining it. Komiya isn’t a big guy, but he’s a basketball player. Ike, on the other hand, is small for a boy, so I’d say there’s enough of a size difference. “Well, he has a dubious leg injury right now, and can’t really walk. He can’t hurt you that much.” “Yeah, that ain’t the problem, but..., I’ll be ready.” He seemed to have made up his mind to some extent, so I had no reason to oppose him. I had been wondering about Komiya’s condition, and this seemed like a good opportunity. “I heard that Komiya is still sleeping in the infirmary.” “I’m sure he’s having a hard time in the cabins.” No wonder he spends most of his holidays in the doctor’s office. Ike and I arrive in front of the infirmary. Ike took a deep breath to calm himself down. There was no point in rushing inside, so he waited quietly, and then a loud laugh came from inside. “Hey, what’s that? Let’s go in.” Surprised by the unexpected laughter, Ike opened the door and entered the doctor’s office, unprepared. He was then surrounded by Komiya, who was sitting up, and several of his classmates, including Ryūen, Albert, Kaneda, Kondō, and Yamawaki. Even though someone outside of the class showed up, Ryūen didn’t give us a second glance and stood up. “Sorry for the interruption, Komiya.” As if the conversation was over, Ryūen left the infirmary with his friends. I looked at Ryūen lightly, but he didn’t even give me a glance. “You’re still as scary as ever, Ryūen... I mean, what did he want?” Ike, on the other hand, mumbled to himself as if he couldn’t look directly at Ryūen. It was the first time I’ve ever seen such a thing. “Well, he is powerful, isn’t he? He was just visiting me.” Replied Komiya from the bed. On a small table placed near the head of the bed, there were some sweets and juice that seemed to have been brought in. “Oh, so he was visiting you... He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would do something like that.” Ike said what he honestly felt, and Komiya agreed with him. “If it was this time last year, well, it would be unthinkable.” Komiya smiled in nostalgia as he recalled a year ago. “But something’s changed a bit within Ryūen-san. It’s not as if he’s become well rounded though...” Komiya said, somewhat confused but happy. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I think it’s a good thing. It was no wonder that most of his classmates had a strong rejection in their hearts. “I think I can get along with that guy now.” “Follow Ryūen...? I don’t get it.” Ike’s body trembled exaggeratedly as he didn’t seem to understand at all when he asked. “Ike and Ayanokōji, don’t just stand there, please sit down.” Komiya gently welcomed us, even though we were students from the other classes and encouraged us to sit down without hesitation. We took him up on his words and sat down together in the chairs. “You look fine.” Looking at the fixed leg, I check Komiya’s condition. “As you can see, I’m fine except for my legs. But it’s frustrating to think that everyone else is playing around while I’m stuck behind the door, so I hope I get better soon.” “When will you be able to go out?” “I’m going to ask for

permission to go out with my crutches and cane.” They are rivals in love, but surprisingly, the two of them are able to talk on their own. I guess my presence was a bit superfluous. “I’m just a little worried about...” “Worried? With what?” Ike, who was sitting facing away from the chair, put his arm on the backrest and asked Komiya. “Well... it seems like Ryūen is planning to find out who pushed me off. He asked me a lot of questions to see if I remembered anything. Like I told Ayanokōji, I don’t remember being attacked or anything at all.” There didn’t seem to be any difference to his memory since then. Right now, Ryūen’s class is gaining momentum day by day, and it’s time to focus on the sophomore battle to get to Class A. Of course, the same could be said for our class, but we shouldn’t go too deep into this one. If Amasawa, another White Room student, or someone related to Tsukishiro were involved, there was no guarantee that even Ryūen would be safe. “I hope I didn’t overdo it....” “It looks like Ryūen’s going to kill the culprit half to death, right?” For the two of them, there was no way they could envision a vision of Ryūen getting hit. Instead, it was natural for them to worry more about the culprit. “So? It’s not like you’re just here to visit me, is it?” As if he had sensed something, Komiya asked Ike that. At that moment, Ike stiffened as if surprised. “Oh no... Well I...” Perhaps he wasn’t ready yet, but he choked on his words. Seeing this, Komiya waited for his words with a serious face, without prompting. The atmosphere of a place can change visibly in an instant. “Ike. I don’t know what you’re going to say, but if it’s important, look me in the eye and say it.” He must have guessed what he was about to say. Still, Komiya pretended not to know and only urged Ike to speak clearly. It was hard to believe that Ike had noticed Komiya’s suggestion, but he must have felt it as men do. He slapped himself on both cheeks, forcing himself to wake up. “I confessed to Shinohara!” A determined Ike tells him in a simple but loud voice. Silence came immediately afterwards and I found Ike swallowing heavily next to me. “So? What was Satsuki’s response?” “She gave me the okay. We’re going out now.” “I see...” Ike continued to stare at Komiya’s face without averting his gaze as he answered shortly. As he had mentioned earlier, he was scared that Komiya would retaliate out of anger. He could even pop out a surprise shot, or so he thought. “Did you think I was going to hit you?” “Huh?” “It’s written all over your face that you might hit me.” “No, it doesn’t... well, yeah for a second.” “Well, then you’re ready. I can’t move right now, so why don’t you come over here?” The look on Komiya’s face as he demanded to come over did not reveal his true intentions. But from the power of his words, Ike seemed to have made up his mind. He stood right beside Komiya, frightened and frightened. Immediately after, Komiya’s right arm reached out and grabbed Ike’s shoulder. “Ah!” Komiya raised his aching body to the limit and looked into Ike’s eyes. “If you ever make Satsuki cry, I won’t forgive you.” He said, lightly pressing his left fist against Ike’s chest. “That’s all Komiya...?” Komiya Miya’s devilish expression changed to a smile. “Nah, don’t give me that pushy look. Satsuki chose you, that’s all, isn’t it?” “But ...... if you hadn’t been removed from the exam, it might have been the other way around. ......” “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. I don’t think it was a quick win for me. Just...” “Just?” “If you hadn’t confronted Satsuki and stayed away, I might have had a chance.” Komiya was right. I don’t think it really mattered whether he confessed first or later. He had an accident where he was seriously injured, and Ike happened to be nearby, which created a connection and gave him a big boost, and because of that, he was able to face Shinohara. Without a doubt, this was the most important factor in their relationship. If Komiya hadn’t been injured, if Ike hadn’t been by his side at that time, if either of them had followed a

different fate, it might have been Komiya who would have been next to Shinohara. “In that sense, this injury was just unlucky.” It wasn’t a fulfillment of love, but Komiya seemed to be in the clear. “Thanks, Komiya.” “Study hard, okay? Satsuki... No, Shinohara was worried about that too, you know.” “Yeah, I know. I can’t afford to be expelled from school now.” This love affair could have been a pivotal turning point for Ike. It gave him the opportunity to struggle for himself and for the people he loves, just like Sudō. At last, the report from Ike and the exchange with Komiya settled down. “I’m sorry, Ike, but can I have a word with Ayanokōji alone for a moment? There’s something I need to go over with you about my injury.” “Alright, see you later Komiya. Ayanokōji too.” Ike said goodbye to us and left the room without hesitation. Once the two of us were alone, Komiya spoke up. “Sorry about that. Didn’t Ike ask you to come only to help him?” “No, I came because I was wondering about your condition too. It was more like I interfered.” “That’s not true. I don’t know what... is this right?” “Hmm?” “Me and you guys are in different classes and we’re fighting each other, but we’ve started talking normally. It’s like that kind of thing is fading away. Last year, things were pretty bleak.” If you’re in a different class, you’re supposed to be beating and trying to kick the other down. There are not many advantages to getting along with them, except for strategy. “The uninhabited island exam was a competition between different grades, and we’ve been in the same school for a long time, isn’t that how it is?” “Hmm, maybe.” It was obvious that this was a preliminary chat, and there should be a main topic beyond that. “I mentioned a little bit earlier about the situation with Ryūen-san.” “You said it sounded like he was trying to find the culprit.” “I’m against it. To be honest, I’d rather just say that this was an accident caused by my own mistake.” “But Shinohara has actually seen the existence of the person who attacked you guys.” “I know. But I have a bad feeling about this, and I have a feeling it won’t end well.” Maybe it was because he had been attacked that he felt the danger firsthand. “Can Ayanokōji keep an eye out for that too, even if it’s just for a little while?” “I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.” “I’m not expecting you to do anything about it directly. If you feel uncomfortable, let me know.” He asked me with a strong gaze. We’ll exchange contact information formally so that we can always be in touch. “Okay, for now, you should focus on healing your injuries as soon as possible.” Resting is the only shortcut to a full recovery. “Thanks, man. Yeah, let me thank you sometime if you want. And give a shout out to the other guys who helped me.” “I think they’ll be glad to hear it. Ike might even let Shinohara be there.” “I don’t want to do that. I think I’d cry if I had to see the two of them making out with each other.” Komiya smiled bitterly, but he was more heartbroken than he looked. It was a mistake to include her name, even if it was simply a tease. Anyway, it’s not a good thing to be injured, but I feel like I’m a little closer to Komiya now. “See you later, Ayanokōji.” “Yeah.” After saying goodbye and leaving the doctor’s office, I suddenly had a strange feeling. My classmates Sudō and Ike, and the rest of the class. Ishizaki and Komiya. Little by little, the number of people around me that I can call my friends is starting to increase. It’s not that I’ve been trying to make friends, but it’s happening. “How to make friends is not something you can put in a textbook.” I thought to myself.

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hazzmedicine · 5 years

Text

his replacement

summary: Harry has made it clear to Y/N that she isn’t his girlfriend, so she has no other choice but to take someone else on what was suppose to be their trip.

a/n: There will be a part 2 but this has been brewing in my head for a while now. Hope you enjoy! Also let me know if I should write in third person with y/n or in first person. 1.3k

As she sat alone in her bed, she thought of all the ways she could have done something different. She thought about how far back in time she needed to go so that the present could be altered. Maybe if she reminded him more then he wouldn't have forgotten. But she reminded him over and over again so that shouldn’t have been the problem. Maybe if she would’ve booked the trip on another weekend then he would’ve been more available. But he would never be 100% available for the next couple months, at least not available for her.

It seemed as though no matter what Y/N could’ve done, nothing would’ve worked. Harry would still be unpacked and filling his day with his work. He would still be angry with her for “meddling in his life” and would still have no regret for yelling at her.

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t her fault. Although the words Harry spat at her weren’t exactly wrong. They were definitely harsh but ultimately true. She wasn’t his girlfriend, he made that very clear, and she shouldn’t have expected a romantic getaway with the guy she was just sleeping with. However, in her defense, he was the one who agreed to go, who let her believe it was more than friends with benefits, so he had no right to totally freak out on her.

If he didn’t want her to feel like his girlfriend then he shouldn’t have treated her like she was. Now matter how much she convinced herself that it was nothing more then sloppy (but very enjoyable) sex with her friend, Harry, she couldn’t get over the fact that he treated her to “dates.” He never disclosed them as dates, but the vibes were definitely there. He took her out to a nice dinner “just to celebrate” her newest business deal. They went out to the movies, like regular friends do, but he was very touchy during those times, having an arm around her shoulders or holding her hand. He even scheduled to make times to hangout with her, while his other friends only got him when he was available. She felt special in a way and sometimes it slipped her mind that they weren’t actually together.

The more she thought about the argument she had with Harry hours prior, the more she went from sad to angry and it was then that she decided she wasn’t going to wait around for him to change his mind about her. She was still going to the Bahamas with or without him. And since she had an extra ticket, she might as well invite someone else.

---

That someone else is Shawn Mendes. Y/N had met Shawn Mendes two months ago at a red carpet event. Striking up conversation was easy after they were formally introduced by a mutual friend. She realized quickly that he was a simple, easy to talk to fella. Throughout the night, and into an after party, they were inseparable. When she needed a drink, Shawn did too. When a friend pulled Shawn onto the dance floor, she happened to know that friend too, so she was also dragged along. They both exchanged jokes as they watched people get way too drunk and embarrass themselves. Overall, it was a fun night.

So much fun that if Y/N wasn’t hooking up with Harry, she probably would’ve taken him home. But she passed on that opportunity and has since then become good friends with the Canadian superstar. It was easy to get Shawn to accept her ticket to the Bahamas. He just finished his tour which gave him the freedom to relax and she knew he needed it.

“Are you all packed and ready?” Shawn asked upon his early arrival at her condo. They were leaving today and figured riding together would make things simpler.

“Yes I am. I was so excited, I’ve been packed for three days,” she beamed. His eyes grew wide in disbelief at the size of her suitcase. “I’m kind of an overpacker.”

He chuckled. “You don’t say.”

They left shortly after she had grabbed last minute items, like her phone charger and toothbrush, and made their journey to the airport.

When they arrived at the airport, the paparazzi were already there. For a second, fear popped into her head of what they could make this look like. The reality was two friends of the opposite sex going on vacation together for a week and a half. But others would love to twist it into another young vacationing lovers that would eventually break up from a cheating scandal. It didn’t bother Y/N that people would assume she was dating Shawn because, well, he was a good looking guy. The only thing that worried her was what Harry would think if the story got twisted. But then again, this could’ve been him. However, he chose to decline. Screw him, she thought.

She put on a bright smile as she walked ahead of Shawn into the airport. She was off to a trip she wouldn’t forget.

---

The beach house Y/N and Shawn were staying at was breathtaking. It was so close to the beach that the sound of crashing waves can be heard from every room of the house. It was spacious and bright. There was a hot tub and hammock out back for them to relax on. There are two bedrooms - one for her and one for him. They arrived mid afternoon and decided to take some time to unpack before they’d go down to the beach to look around.

“Hey, Y/N, come check this out,” Shawn calls. She finds him lounging on the couch with his laptop resting on his lap. When she looks at the screen, she sees articles pulled up with their pictures from the airport plastered all over them. She cackles as she reads the title of the article, Shawn & Y/N Seen On Their Way to a Romantic Trip.

“Okay, you’re laughing,” Shawn observes as he tries to analyze the situation.

“Of course I’m laughing. I saw this coming! I bet your fans are having a field day with this.”

“Yeah, well, what do we do now?” Y/N grinned at him.

“Absolutely nothing. We know we’re just friends on a friendly trip,” Y/N emphasizing the friend part. “Who cares if others are wrong, it’s not going to ruin our trip.” Shawn nods along in agreement. “And from now on, we’re gonna have limited screen time. We can’t waste our trip worrying about everyone else.”

“You’re right.” Shawn shuts his laptop close and takes his phone out to power it off. He looks at her with an expectant look, it was her turn to turn in her phone for the rest of the evening.

When she pulls her phone, she notices the silent incoming call she has. The one and only Harry Styles is reaching out to her for the first time in a week since their argument. He must’ve seen the articles, she thinks. She never told him about giving his ticket to someone else. How could she when she was too hurt to talk to him after his rude remarks. And he was too stubborn to call her and apologize. It was his fault that she found his replacement.

And he realizes this now as he reads through the many reports of her vacationing with her “new lover.” Harry examines the photos, trying to decide if her smile is genuine or just for the camera. He really hopes it is just for the camera. But when he can’t figure out if she’s happy with someone else on what could’ve been their trip, he feels like he has no other option to call her. He waits impatiently as his phone calls hers.

“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system…”

She waits patiently for Harry’s call to be sent to voicemail and then finishes turning off her phone. She smiles up at Shawn. “Ready to go out?”

#Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #solo harry #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #fwb!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #imagine

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goddessofthundathighs · 5 years

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V. DINNER DATE

“Why didn't you tell me you had the tongue of an anteater? It seems like something you would've brought up once or twice since we've been in such close quarters,” O'Shea inquired as the two women strolled down Rodeo Drive. As promised, after they finished lunch Skylar took her shopping to search for a gown for the conference as well as to reward Shea for behaving so well during her little experiment. Sky’s response wasn’t immediate. She simply chuckled before removing the Prada shades from her face and using them as a makeshift headband to tame her natural curls.

“One, you never asked, and two, I’m a lesbian and an expert in female anatomy. Not knowing how to eat pussy is a disservice to myself as well as to my profession.”

“Touché,” O’Shea replied. There wasn’t much she could say after such an explanation. With that, the ladies continued their trip, spending an obscene amount of money, but Sky felt like they both deserved it. After spending several hours in Chanel, Gucci, and Christian Louboutin, the pair had dinner and then retired to their respective living quarters.

Conference Day

O’Shea sat behind the desk, iMac open to her emails, sketchbook open to her latest design, and her iPhone blasting her Créme de la Pénis playlist. The sensualness of the sexually charged lyrics helped fuel her creativity when it came to new design concepts. Just as she was finding her groove, the music stopped, interrupted by an incoming FaceTime call.

“Yes Dr. Stevens?”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Powell, you look beautiful today.” Her heart fluttered at his compliment, but she wouldn’t dare let him know that. It the short time that they had known one another, he had unlocked almost all of her sexual kinks and they had yet to have sex. O’Shea was perplexed yet intrigued and therefore continued in the sweet torture.

“Why thank you, Dr. Stevens. What do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”

“Are you alone?”

“Skylar is in her office in the back of the store.”

“Are there any customers in the store?”

“Not right now.”

“Perfect. Grab a pair of headphones, I wanna try something.” Shea looked at the screen in confusion, but complied anyway.

“What are you wearing?”

“Well you can see my burgundy turtleneck, but I’m also wearing a leather pleated mini skirt, some fishnets and my black platform Doc Martens.”

“Mmm, that’s quite the visual, Ms. Powell. Think you can be a good girl for Daddy and play around for a bit?” The sexy voice was back and had O’Shea creating a puddle in her seat.

“That face is telling me yes, but I prefer verbal consent.”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Good girl, spread them legs for me.” As if she were in a trance, O’Shea spread her thighs and trailed her hand down to her pearl.”

“She wet?”

“Aquafina.” He smiled, revealing a new set of top and bottom grills, with the canines stretched like vampire fangs, with a dangerous glimmer in his eye.

“Should I be afraid?”

“Only if you wanna be, babygirl. But has Daddy ever given you a reason to be afraid?”

“Well it was that one time—”

“Girl shut yo ass up and pull that thong to the side.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his tone and his impatience.

“So how far does a nigga need to go with you to bring Bennie out the cage?”

“Why on Earth would you wanna meet her?”

“Well she’s clearly the one that runs the show. I just wanna see if she bout what she be talking bout,” his Oakland twang making an appearance ever so slightly.

“Be careful what you wish for, Stevens. Bennie doesn’t go back in the cage so easily when she’s summoned.”

“You let Daddy deal with that, Ms. Powell. Now like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, take two fingers.. stick them into that pretty mouth..get them wet.. and rub that clit nice and slow.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then that’ll be you all pent up and pissed off until tonight.”

“Touché,” she agrees. With that, her middle and ring fingers found her slickness, rubbing slow circles over her throbbing clit. She stared at the camera, biting her lip as his deep voice rumbled in her ear. Slow then fast then slow again she worked herself closer and closer to her release.

“You almost there, Princess?”

“Yes Daddy,” she whimpered, eying the front door as well as the door to the back office to ensure that no one caught her in her lewd act. This was the furthest she'd gotten with just her fingers in months. It had to be the combination of the movements and his voice.

“Good girl, now stop.”

“What?!” she screeched, as she was seconds from an orgasm.

“I just wanted you to get that pussy ready for Daddy. I’ll see you later on tonight.” With that, he ended to call, leaving her horny and pissed off in her seat. Her forgotten playlist was now a tease of what could've been.

“Skylar Moreau Greene!” she growled as she marched to the tiny woman’s office.

“I didn’t do it,” Sky answered, puzzled as to why O’Shea was disclosing her government name to the world.

“That blockhead friend of yours is about to come up missing!”

“What happened this time? You were just playing with ya pussy on FaceTime for him.”

“How did you—“

“Surveillance cameras, my precious.” Shit.

“Ok whatever. Anyway that nigga keeps getting me worked up and then leaving me hanging! I’m sick of it.”

“I thought you liked being edged?”

“I do when my release is the endgame. I haven’t cum in days! And no, I don’t want you to eat my pussy again even though that shit was IMMACULATE!” Skylar giggled at the admission. She’d been talking about it since the day it happened.

“O’Shea, sweetheart, I’m about to tell you something real. Erik isn’t like any other guy you’ll ever meet. His willpower and patience are unmatched, especially when he has a point to prove. The only way you’re gonna get what you want from him is by following his rules.”

“But this shit is dumb,” O’Shea pouted.

“Is it really dumb or are you just a spoiled little bitch?”

“Hey, hey! Lower your voice, ma’am. I’m in a vulnerable state and those are very triggering words.”

“I know princess,” Skylar teased, causing O’Shea to pout and stomp her way out of the office.

“I’m going to get my hair done!”

“Have fun!”

O’Shea left the salon two hours later with a large butterfly braid cascading down the left side of her face. Per Shea’s request, the stylist adorned the braid with gold charms and cording while the in-house makeup artist beat her face to the gods. They decided to go with soft glam on the face and lips, while adding gold glitter and false lashes for a bold pop. Once home, she freshened up and stepped into her dress. O’Shea stared in awe of herself in the custom ball gown Skylar had designed for Erik’s conference.

“My best friend is a flashy nigga, so his date has to match his fly.”

It was an Egyptian style white gown with gold accents and a cascading draped train. She completed the look with golden open toe high shaft stiletto gladiator sandals.

“If this doesn’t get me any dick, I’m fighting somebody,” O’Shea said as she admired herself.

Erik arrived promptly at 7:00. He stood clad in a black velvet suit with filigree detailing, black and gold Louboutin loafers, and his signature gold-rimmed glasses. His dreads were neatly braided to the back of his head and in his hands was a box of black and gold designer roses adorned with sparkling stones like the ones O’Shea had seen on Instagram. The man looked good enough to eat and though the sight before her had her essence pooling in her panties, Erik was still met with O’Shea’s attitude.

“I see someone’s still salty from earlier,” he taunted, noticing her cold demeanor.

“Whatever. Let’s just get this shit over with,” Shea fussed.

The ride to the banquet was quiet, too quiet for Erik’s liking, but he wasn’t giving in to O’Shea’s bratty antics. She needed to learn that she wasn’t the one in control of this situation and that she'd get the attention she craved whenever he chose to give it, but until then, he was content in torturing her every chance he got. He ran the tips of his fingers up the split in her dress, smirking to himself as her body inadvertently reacted to him. He watched the goosebumps spread across her skin as his fingers traveled further up her thigh and almost full out cackled at her pouting because he put both hands back on the wheel. He was sure he’d break her tonight.

O’Shea was awestruck once they finally entered the grand ballroom. The walls of the ballroom were ivory white with gold trimmings with four giant chandeliers lining the middle. Each table was decorated with black table cloths and accented with red napkins and red roses.

“Dr. Udaku, nice to see you again,” a colonizer spoke shaking Erik’s hand.

“Nice to see you as well, David. How’s Margaret?” Erik asked, not really caring about the state of the man’s wife but more so to move the conversation along. While the pair conversed about meaningless bullshit, O’Shea slipped away to grab a drink from one of the cocktail waitresses and admire the scenery. Erik caught up with her just as she'd downed her third glass, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

“Tsk. You shouldn’t wander off like that, Princess. You'll get Daddy all worried.”

“Then Daddy should pay better attention to me,” she retorted. “And I thought your last name was Stevens. Who the hell is Udaku?”

“Mind your business,” was all he said before pulling her chair out at their assigned table. She pouted and fidgeted the entire time, making her displeasure for being there no secret to anyone paying attention. After about the fifth obnoxious yawn, Erik leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t forget you're a guest. Don't think that I won’t handle your tiny ass because we’re in public,” he threatened.

“Not worried.”

“Didn’t say you had to be.”

“Ugh, niggas make you cum once and wanna talk slick,” she spat.

“Once? That lil stunt in my office had you cumming way more than just once.”

“Nigga I’m talking tangible cum, physical orgasms.. and Shy has you beat in that department. Compared to her, your head game is mediocre.”

“Mediocre?!” he whisper yelled, causing a few heads to turn their way.

“I said what I said,” O’Shea answered, taking another sip from her champagne. He didn't respond and they sat in silence listening to the speaker.

After enough time had passed post spat, the pair began engaging in comfortable conversation with the other couples at the table. For a second, O’Shea had forgotten all about the dormant beast that sat to her left until his right hand found her bare left thigh again, squeezing the flesh roughly. O’Shea bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from moaning aloud, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Dr. Nigga as he continued his sweet torture. He kept kneading and squeezing her thigh, causing her to clench her thighs together. She was unable to contain the squeal that left her lips as Erik smacked her outer thigh, causing her to spread her legs.

“Are you alright, O’Shea?” David asked, genuinely concerned by her sudden outburst.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine,” she stuttered out. Erik’s face remained neutral as his hand continued its quest upward into her panties where he found her throbbing clit. His thick fingers massaged slow circles, causing her wetness to pool once again. O’Shea tried desperately to close her legs, but it was useless. With his free hand, Erik took a sip of his water before leaning casually over to whisper in her ear.

“Try to close them again and I’ll bend you over this table,” he threatened with another smack to her outer thigh. O’Shea whimpered softly as she looked up at him and then down to her lap where she could see his fingers working their magic on her sensitive nub, her dress pooled in her lap. After the speaker made a small joke, the room laughed politely and Erik smiled at O'Shea sweetly before leaning back down to her.

“Is Princess gonna listen to Daddy?”

She closed her eyes and nodded, too far gone in the pleasure. Eyes still trained forward as the guest of honor spoke, Erik moved her panties to the side and slid two of his fingers into her, making ‘come hither’ motions against her g-spot.

“Oh fuck,” O’Shea moaned as silently as she could manage before putting a fist to her lips, biting down on her knuckles. David's attention was drawn again and he looked from O'Shea who seemed to be in great discomfort to Erik.

“Erik,” he whispered aggressively. Erik's face was of someone completely uninterested in what was going on and David pointed subtly at O'Shea, “Help her,” he implored shamed by Erik's lack of attention to her condition as he was hailed to be a capable and sought after doctor.

“Do you want my help,” he innocently blinked at O'Shea who was breathing heavily with her hand at her mouth so not to cause anymore attention.

“O'Shea?” He watched her face in faux concern as if he wasn't the source of her unraveling. “I think you might need some more attention,” he smirked as David finally turned away satisfied with Erik's involvement.

Erik’s deep chuckle was back at her ear as he pushed his digits as far into her as they would go, causing her essence to gush down his knuckles. O’Shea couldn’t take it. The forbiddenness of what they were doing had her wetter than she had been in a while and her orgasm was building fast. She leaned her head on his shoulder, whimpering so that only he could hear.

“Erik please..”

“So sweet now,” he murmured teasingly. “Please what, Princess?” She had begun rocking her hips to match his rhythm and aid in her completion.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered as his fingers increased in speed, repeatedly stroking her gspot.

“Cum for Daddy, babygirl,” he purred, using his thumb to simultaneously massage her clit. She dug her nails deep into the rich material covering his thigh, biting her lip hard to mask her moan as her orgasm overtook her. David looked over to the pair, noting the sated look on Shea’s face.

“Are you sure you’re alright, O’Shea? You look flustered.”

“N-No sir. I’m totally fine.”

“She just needs some water,” Erik interjected. “Drink some water,” he directed O'Shea and she picked up her glass taking a sip and nodding. “She tends to get flustered in crowds. We're trying out a harmless little therapy tonight,” Erik lied as he pulled his hand from between her thighs, discreetly slipping his fingers into his mouth as David and another woman at the table listened with interest of the therapeutic method. The sight alone had O’Shea clenching.

“Isn’t that right?” he asked as he licked the last of her essence from his middle finger.

“Right,” she answered, taking a sip from the glass of water he slid in front of her since she'd finished her own.

“Ahem, if you all will excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Erik announced smoothly standing from the table and leaving the banquet room towards the hall of restrooms. O’Shea took a few more sips from the water glass as she tried to regulate her breathing. Meanwhile, David engaged her more in conversation mentioning relaxation techniques which worked to calm her nerves further. That was until her cell phone dinged in her clutch. She pulled it out to see one unread text message from Erik.

Bring yo ass here..

She bit her lip lustfully, as she slipped her phone back into her bag.

“Please excuse me, David. I need to get some fresh air.” With a confident stride, O’Shea, or should I say Bennie, made the short journey to the bathrooms where Dr. Nigga was waiting, leaning casually against the sink. His eyes traveled up and down her body hungrily as she stood before him.

“You gon’ take that shit off willingly or is a nigga gon’ have to rip it?”

“Nigga you will do no such thing,” she spat, planting her feet on the floor in front of him.

“Bet.” The harsh sound of ripped fabric filled the bathroom as Erik grabbed the split in her dress and tugged until the dress lay in two pieces on the floor.

“Bitch that was a $3,000 dress!” she fumed, his hand clamping tightly around her throat in response.

“What you just call me?”

“Bit—”

“Choose your words wisely, Princess,” he threatened as his fingers gripping the mound between her thighs once more, finding her throbbing core.

“That was an expensive dress Daddy,” she whimpered as she slowly starting grinding against his hand.

“You acting like Daddy can’t buy you another one, Lil’ Mama. I gave you simple instructions and you didn’t follow them so I handled it my way. Now look at you, grinding and clenching around my fingers like you deserve for me to let your bratty ass cum again.” He removed his hand from her center, sucking her juices off of his fingers. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, biting her lip as he stared down at her.

“What’s the matter, Lil’ Mama? You mad? You tired of me edging you even though you asked for this shit? Talk to Daddy.”

“I just wanna cum, Daddy. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Oh you begging now? That’s cute. This must be the little girl in you. What was her name, Buttercup?” Her face heated. She knew he knew about all of her submissive personalities, but she didn’t expect him to bring out her Little Girl so quickly.

“Yeah, that’s my lil’ baby right there. You know, Bennie really hurt Daddy’s feelings earlier. She told me my head game was mediocre. You don’t think that, do you baby?” he asked as he stroked her cheek.

“I think I need to experience it again, Daddy. I don’t really remember.” He smirked before lifting her in his arms and placing her legs on her shoulders. He stepped closer to the wall so she’d be able to lean her body back and began feasting from her. His thick tongue snaked its way into her entrance, thrusting back and for the way his dick wanted to.

“Eyes on Daddy, Lil’ Mama,” he purred as he flicked his tongue against her clit before sucking it gently. He spelled both of their names against her clit, effectively drawing 3 more orgasms from her before settling her back on her feet.

“Daddy’s baby feel better?” She smiled goofily, nodding her agreement. “Rate Daddy's tongue on a scale of mediocre to exceptional.”

“Phenomenal,” she grinned. He collected the ruined dress from the floor and deposited it in the trash before draping his coat around her shoulders. She was thankful that he was so big, his large coat masking the fact that she was completely naked underneath. Erik went back to the table to say his goodbyes, blaming their sudden departure on O’Shea having sensory overload, being tired, and suffering a wardrobe malfunction.

“Oh, it was great to see you again, Erik. Good to meet you as well O'Shea. Take care of her,” David said innocently, waving his goodbye.

“I will,” Erik nodded curtly turning to lead O'Shea to the exit with his lips to her ear whispering all the while.

—————

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life-in-techni-colour-blog1 · 5 years

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Marseille, August 2019

After the life-changing experience I had in Marseille in July, same year, my heart was craving to go back to that city and expand the universe of episodes I have lived. I had the feeling, well, I still do, that Marseille has become a kind of sanctuary for me.

Is it the Mediterranean sea? Is it that I love bathing at la Plage du Prado?

Is it the chance to stare at beautiful sunsets every evening?

Is it the fact, that Marseille is the city in France with the most of sunny days during the year?

Is it that the sun kisses my skin and I feel that it injects me with interminable cosmic energy?

Or is it the language? That language that I started learning as a teenager and somehow never managed to speak fluently.

Or the Mediterranean culture? Is it the fact, that still in Europe, the “way of living” is similar to that in my country?

Or even the fact that I find Marseille highly erotic? That people show their bodies in a self-confident manner, expressing sensuality and sultriness?

Is it the sexy local accent?

Is it the sun tanning that makes the locals look similar to ancient Greek heroes?

Is it that I love seeing so many cultures sharing the same physical space, so well-integrated and functioning altogether in a chaotic, but charming environment?

Is it that people are loud, emotional, and like gesticulating and using their hands whilst talking?

Or that families watch the sunset at the beach, whilst kiddos play around?

Or the music that is played at the city centre every evening?

Or a combination of all of them?

I feel home in this sanctuary. I belong. I feel alive. My heart beats fast.

I have lust for life.

I most accept that it took me some days to decide if I really wanted to go back “so soon”. I guess I was afraid that my previous experience was just too good, that my expectation would be difficult to be met.

It was all met, in new ways.

I arrived. I left the airplane. I picked up my baggage. I went out of the terminal station.

As soon as the warm humid breeze touched my skin, I screamed loudly: “I am back Marseille, I am back for good”. I thanked life, I thanked the universe.

On the way from the airport to the city, listening the music that the bus driver had on, a question came to my head: how many people are able to do what I was just doing? How many people in this world have the possibility to take a flight, book a hotel, and just escape to their sanctuary?

Does everyone has a sanctuary? Is a sanctuary necessary at all?

How many people can decide where to go?

I felt blessed. And responsible.

I am free. I can decide. I have the means to chose and to execute.

How many people cannot do that? Can’t they, or they simply do not want to?

What to do with this blessing? Enjoy it on my own?

Or is there any way in which I could share it with the world? If so, how?

Besides being in my sanctuary, Marseille gives me new life lessons, some of them have become one-in-a-lifetime experiences.

And this second visit was not an exception.

Firstly. I had my first “date in French”. A real date.

Greg (Grégory, his fullname) had beautiful green eyes. His lips were thin and suggestive.

He had the characteristic sun tanning of a real Marseillais. He was indeed a local guy, born and raised in Marseille, with that wicked local accent.

The date was planned rather sporadically.

It was a Sunday, as I was on my way to the beach. La Plage du Prado is a rather common spot to go on a Sunday for bathing. Not the best beach in the city, nor my recommendation, but quite convenient as it is easily reached and you have all required amenities.

He called me. I did not pick up as I was on the bus. Well, that was the excuse. In reality, I was not picking any of his calls because I was terrified of speaking in French with him. I had the idea that my French would not be good enough for a conversation, and even worse, that I would make that noticeable to the other passengers on the bus.

Yes, even now that I am more awaken, such banalities and lack of confidence-moments appear in my life. Not so often anymore, but still present from time to time…

I knew that it would not bring me much to keep postponing the call, and based on the fact that I really wanted to get to know him, I called him back once I reached my destination.

I told him where I was and that I was planning to spend some at the beach and he offered himself to come over for few hours.

I accepted.

I felt so happy at the moment.

Opposite to what you might be thinking, I was not happy because I was about to meet a very good looking guy, but because I was brave enough to overcome my fear of speaking more than a couple of sentences in French. It was such a rewarding feeling.

After about one hour, he arrived with a bunch of things for a proper picnic.

He was, as already mentioned, charming. We talked about himself, myself, my interest for Marseille and my plans to visit more regularly the city.

We spend about three hours together and he needed to leave.

Regrettably, there was not a kind of funk between us, so we lost contact after that picnic.

What was the learning out of this experience?

Well, I made myself vulnerable, accepting that my French might not be fluent and error-free, and as a reward I had a picnic next to Mediterranean see. Me! Alejandro! That guy who many times felt not good enough.

Isn’t life a beautiful box of surprises, once you give it a try?

The second new learning that I had during that week involves a sex-shop.

The reasoning for me visiting the sex-shop is not relevant and therefore, not to be disclosed.

What I can tell you, in case you, yourself, have never entered to one: there is nothing special about them. I even fooled around with the employee who supported with my purchasing, who made some recommendations as well.

To be really honest, I was not afraid of the sex shop itself.

I was terrified of “what people would think of me” when entering and when leaving the shop. As this shop is located on a major avenue of the city, and I went there around 18 hrs on a regular working day, you can imagine that the probability of people seeing someone entering or leaving the shop was rather high.

Learning? A very basic one. No ones gives a fuck about what I do. If I enter or leave or stay for decades in a shop.

As I went it, I came out. No one really cared about it.

Isn’t is crazy all the ideas that I still have in my head? Terrified for what people would say?!

They did not even know me. They will probably not see me again. And I was still terrified.

Alejandro: so much for you still to learn.

Now we get a bit more serious.

Third learning during that week: I am blessed.

So, on the second weekend in Marseille, before departing back to Frankfurt, I decided to spend one day in the natural park Les Calanques. Go to your favourite web browser now and type “Les Calanques”. You will be stunned by the beautiful sceneries of this park.

Calanques are narrow inlets that are developed in limestone that are found along the Mediterranean coast. Because of fluvial erosion, these Calanques take the shape of valleys, which converge mostly into the sea. You will see some pictures attached to this post.

What do I like from them the most? The contrast between their colour and the intense blue of the sea.

So that Saturday morning I took the bus and arrive to one (very) small town called Les Goudes. Even if Les Goudes is a picturesque and cosy place, I saw most of it in less than one hour. As it was barely midday, I decided to walk on the coast with direction to the Calanques.

After few minutes I knew that I had made a very good decision.

My eyes saw a perfect colour-balance between beige and blue: on one site the massive Calanques in their beautiful beige colour and just next to it, a green-blue sea. Both fighting for physical space, and at the same time, embracing together in a perfect synergy.

I kept walking. As the time was passing by, more and more people were arriving. All of them astonished by the beautiful scenery. All of us making pictures, which will never be able to replace reality.

Even if I look at those pictures now, they cannot equal the still vivid images in my head.

Because it is not only about the colours, but the sound of wind (le mistral), the environmental humidity, the sun, the heat…

I spent quite some time making pictures and walking along the rocky coastline, until I felt hungry.

I was lucky that I had food in my bag, same that I bought that same morning in the only store I found in Les Goudes. Amongst those articles: a slice of pizza (I will elaborate more about my experience with pizza in Marseille in upcoming posts), a bottle of water, a bottle of orange juice and some cookies (Navettes à l’anis) that I still had in my bag.

I started looking for a place where to seat down and eat calmly. That was apparently not possible at the coastline, as it was already full with tourists (I do not consider myself a tourist in Marseille anymore) and families eating already (that just made me think of Greg and our picnic).

My eyes went then to the mountains themselves. Almost everyone was on the coast, but few were climbing to the mountains. I spotted at least three places that were perfect to seat down and have some lunch. So I decided to move there.

After few minutes I was about 300m above the sea level and from there, I had a beautiful scenery in front of my eyes. I could even see part of the city (Marseille).

I ate. Not only the food and beverages were feeding my body, but my soul was at the same time catered by what I was just discerning.

I felt a funk of happiness moving through my body. Was it the very first time that I had a love-attack? Yes, they exist, just as the panic-attacks do.

I ate, I observed, I felt happy.

When I finished, I decided to move further to the mountains. I sang, I spoke to myself, I made pictures.

After about 30 minutes walking to the top of the mountain, I found a valley, around 800m above level sea, I guess. Maybe a bit more.

From that valley I could see other Calanque in front of me, few houses at its bottom, gently placed next to the green-blue sea. Behind me only rocks and Les Goudes still in sight, although from the distance, the houses look pretty tiny.

To my right the blue sea. To my left three massive mountains.

I though of researching for their name whilst writing these lines, but I consider their names quite irrelevant, so no naming them for now.

In the background, I could hear the Cigales. The sound came from all directions. Even if the wind was strong and loud enough, that characteristic sound from the Cigales was louder.

So, I was there, on a Saturday afternoon, standing in front of three massive mountains. I looked at them, whilst listening to the Cigales.

My whole life cross my head as movie whilst standing there. That movie last at least 10 minutes. In that time I just stared at those three peeks.

I though of my way up. I though of everyone who helped me reaching the very best of me. I thought of the sacrifices my family made, especially my mom. I thought that she would have been astound as well, in case she would have got the chance to see those mountains herself.

She rarely left our town. She never left our country. She was never on the sea. She never got to walk barefoot on the sand.

I thought of my brother. Of the time we spent together as kids and the time we did not spent, as I left Mexico.

What would have happened if I have stayed in Mexico?

Would I have spent more time with him?

Would we love each other more just by being closer physically?

I thought of the friends that have shared the road with me. I thought of those that have been years with me, and those who appeared and disappeared because their mission in my life was over.

I thought of my dreams as a kid, as a teenager.

Of the man I have become.

I thought of Gustavo. I thought of Mark. I though of the people I have unintentionally hurt on my way up.

Moreover, I though of how blessed I am.

Blessed because of what the life has given me, sometimes even without requesting for it.

I cried tears of joy.

The fourth learning of that week is related to music.

By mere coincidence, I downloaded the latest album of the French singer Zazie. The album is called Essenciel and I can just recommend it to you. One of the few albums that I can hear from the very first track until the last one.

The first song of the album is called <Speed>. This song verbalises some of the characteristics of our contemporary society: a) living to work, b) spending our life in the own cages we have created for our ourselves, c) waiting for the day to end, imagining of a better future and pursuing happiness based on accomplishments, d) thinking that we are “too old” to do certain things, e) living in automatic mode…

Listen it for yourself and let the magic happens.

This song gives me hope.

It gives me hope that I am not the only one awakening.

It makes me feel energised and pushes me towards my complete realisation.

The song of my summer – so far.

Allez hop!

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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581

Where did you get the pants you are wearing from? They’re my sister’s; I borrowed them for the semester because these shorts are conducive for my PE classes, but since we already finished the class last week I should probs give it back to her soon. Do you find smoking unattractive? I used to, but now I can’t really say that I hate it. Have your parents ever searched your personal belongings? They did, back in Grade 6. They took away two of my very private diaries and ever since then I never wrote down my thoughts in a notebook. I never did get the two back. Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? I thought I could, then my friends made me try a margarita a month after I turned 18 hahaha. Is there someone you'll never forget? There are loads of people I haven’t and will never forget; this is a very broad question.

Do you miss someone right now? Yes. Last time you were on the phone? Just to use it? Maybe some four minutes ago. But the last time I was on a call – if that’s what you meant – was last night. Do you get distracted easily? Yeup. Earlier I was doing a reading, picked up my phone for a short break, then never realized I was on my phone for the next two hours. Have your parents ever caught you drinking? They never ‘caught’ me; whenever I do drink I let them know/ask permission. I respect them enough to do that because I know how alcohol had nearly ruined our family in the past. Do you think flirting is cheating? Uhhhhhhh yes. Do you hate the last girl, other than family, you had a conversation with? I could never hate Gab. Who was the last person you sat next to in a car with? It was my brother. Is your room messy or clean? Fairly clean. I had a general cleaning of my room not too long ago. Do you drink tea? Not the hot or herbal kind. I only have iced tea occasionally. Wish you could be somewhere else right now? Sort of? Kind of? Idk it’s either way. I’m content that I’m home but I wouldn’t mind being out drinking right now too. What are you listening to right now? I can only hear the electric fan’s white noise. I don’t feel like listening to music. Where did you get your last bruise from? I don’t remember my most recent bruise but it probably has something to do with PE and me hitting the mat/floor way too hard. Are you looking forward to anything? The weekend. When is the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face? The fact that I stared at this question for a good minute must mean I haven’t thought this in a while lmao. That’s gotta be a good thing! Whose house where you last at? Other than mine, Gab’s. When someone says 'we need to talk', what do you think: If I know that that person doesn’t have a problem/potential problem with me, I just assume it’s something light. The only time this was said to me and it turned out to be something bad was my mom gathering us to say that our grandpa died, so I don’t really have a bad experience in general with that sentence. Tell me what's on your mind? I would have been able to sleep in tomorrow if I didn’t accept a 10 AM commitment and now I’m hating myself loads. It’s exhausting to accept an executive position sometimes. Will you be in bed before 11 tonight? I doubt it; it’s already 9:55 and I just started on this survey. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? It’s fine, but it’s not super solid or anything. They don’t know anything about me other than what I post on Facebook. How much money did you spend today? I spent P45 on an egg and cheese sandwich just to get through my hunger this morning, and my orders from online shopping came so I dropped P1,120 on that hahaha. In other words, I’m slowly GOING BROKE Can you see a cat from where you're sitting? Nope. I can see a dog, though. Who was your last text from? My professor for a history class. I’m the beadle in this class, so he texts me reminders from time to time. What was the last bad thing that happened to your phone? It’s fairly new so it hasn’t acted up ever. The only bad thing that happens to it is me dropping it D: What's been upsetting you lately? I am so fucking burned out from this semester and just wish it’s over already. Is there anyone getting on your nerves at the moment? Nope, everyone’s safe. Is there a member of the opposite sex on your mind? Nopes.

Last place you fell asleep other than a bed? The living room couch, I think. Does it take a lot to make you cry? Not at all. I’m an easy target. Do you have a dog? Yes, the goodest and bestest. Do you like to wear pants? No, I hate jeans and wish I had more shorts than jeans. How many people do you trust fully? I trust everybody I know, is the thing. I feel like my loved ones and friends deserve that. But I can cut off ties with them very easily if they abuse that trust. When you're bored in class, what do you usually do? I use my phone but make sure I’m hidden behind my laptop. If that’s too risky, I’ll doodle whatever lyrics on my notebook (if I’m writing). Otherwise I’d just check my social media on my laptop. What’s your favorite color out of these five? Green, Yellow, Blue, Pink: Pink. What was the first thing you said when you woke up today? “...Already?” I set my alarms this morning for 4 AM, 4:30 AM, and 5:30 AM. I woke up at the 4 AM alarm, went back to sleep, and the next alarm that woke me was the 5:30 one. I must have turned off the 4:30 one too but I was probably half-sleepy and groggy AS FUCK because I don’t remember turning that one off at all. Do you get 8 hours of sleep everyday? Yeah. I kinda have to because the way I run during the day depends on the amount of sleep I get. Ever like someone older than you? I haven’t. What's your favorite amusement park? I don’t really have any. Universal Studios in Singapore was great fun though. Are you cold at this very moment? A little bit. I’ve since turned on the AC and also have an electric fan directed at me, so I’m quite chilly. Do you prefer people who talk a lot or are quiet? Depends on my mood..sometimes I’m talkative, and sometimes I just want to be on my laptop and be undisturbed. Is there someone in your life you wish you never met? Other than incompetent groupmates from past projects who temporarily made my life a living hell, not really. How many hours of sleep do you need to function? 7 to 10. Nothing more, nothing less. What do you think Avril Lavigne is doing at the moment? This question is so creepy. What's one fear are you most paranoid about? Not getting a nice enough job that doesn’t pay enough. Have you ran into an old friend recently? A couple of weeks ago I bumped into Mils; I was headed to my car and she was headed to class. It was super brief; we just said hi and she complimented my water bottle (which I have since lost lmao). Have you ever had a song stuck in your head for more than a day? Most likely. Could you go a whole year without cursing? I doubt it. Would you rather give up the computer or the TV? TV! I gave that up like, 6 years ago lol. That’s no problem for me now. Have you ever liked someone who had a girl/boyfriend? No, I haven’t. As of this minute, what is going through your mind? I want to play Mario Kart Tour again but I have to finish this survey first. Does anyone know your password besides you? Gab and my sister. Would you ever take someone back if they cheated on you? I dunno, I’ve never been in that situation. Have you ever ridden a horse? Yes. Are you a patient person? I’m patient with people more; I don’t like the other aspects of waiting, like traffic or waiting in line for something. Could you go a day without eating? I could, but it would suck and it would hurt and I’d probably pass out. Honestly, are things going the way you planned? More than, I guess. I mean I didn’t plan on making it to 21, so I guess everything I do from here on out is more than what I had planned. Are you a forgiving person? No. I prefer holding grudges. When you shut off your alarm clock, do you tend to fall back asleep? HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH YES What is something you disliked about today? My anthropology professor instructed us to watch a film over the weekend. Completely forgot about it of course, and crammed my viewing the night before even though I was already tired. Today, I walked into the room to find out we were gonna watch the exact same movie as a class anyway; meaning I could have rested up last night lolololololol but guess not When's the last time you had a headache? A week ago, I think. Is there anything that you are craving right now? A burger from Pound :( And samgyupsal, ughhhhhhhh. What was the first thing you thought of this morning? How I fucking hate my Wednesday schedule. What part of your body hurts right now? I’m good at the moment. Eyes are starting to feel heavy though. Is there anyone you would like to just appear at your front door right now? Not really. Gab’s working tonight and I wouldn’t want her to drop everything just to surprise me at home. What is something that you realized today? I really dislike my course. I had a very productive afternoon today and started work on each of my final requirements for all my classes this semester – I met progress with every single major requirement, except for those of my journ electives, about which I could really not care less. Is there someone on your mind that shouldn't be? No. Do you remember who your first crush was? Yeah, my 5th grade science teacher. I remember feeling ashamed to disclose it on these surveys back when I was new to this, but it’s been like ten years and I’ve gotten old as fuck and I can just spit it out now lmao. Ever walked into the guy's bathroom? I don’t think so. Have you ever cried from being so mad? Sure. What's a word that starts with the third letter of your first name? Binoculars. Do you have a bad temper? I can, most especially on my period. How many wives or husbands do you want? Wow, just one please. What's the closest pink object to you? My keyboard cover. Do you consider yourself lucky? No. Whats on your bedroom floor right now? A single sock that I’m too lazy to pick up for now, and my dog. Do you trust anyone? I trust lots of people. What's your favorite color gummy bear? Maybe red? I like strawberry/cherry flavored gummies. What's the last movie you saw in the theater? Portrait of a Lady on Fire. If you could push one person off of a mountain, who would it be? Duterte. Wish you could be somewhere else right now? Meh, yes and no. What color is your iPod? I don’t use it anymore, but my Nano is blue. What should you be doing right now? Sleeping maybe? Or at least settling in. Do you like roller coasters? Nope. One famous guy you would marry in an instance? Does it have to be a guy? I got nothing.

#survey #surveys

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setthejet · 7 years

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day 78: recovery and relapse

It feels so good to be back in Maryland. Like, I can not express in words how good it feels. Sure, I was at the airport for ten and a half hours yesterday waiting on my parents’ flight back from Italy to the US, but it was worth it.

Now, here’s something that I didn’t want to write about in this blog, but I feel like if I don’t then those of you who I don’t talk to regularly and read this, are missing part of a bigger picture. A picture that isn’t pretty, but it’s honest, and that’s more important than anything in the world to me right now. I relapsed when I was in Florida. It wasn’t like I spent my entire vacation using, but it did happen. How? I saw someone I knew out and about and it brought up some thoughts and feelings and like maybe it was okay if I just talked to them. Well talking led to a ton of other things that I didn’t necessarily want to happen, but they did. I didn’t post about this sooner because my Mom sometimes looks at my blog to keep up with me and I wanted to have the conversation with her face-to-face instead of her reading about it. Hmm, that sounds totally self-centered, right? Well, that was the thought going through my head after I got honest with the people around me and while I was deciding my next move.

Relapse doesn’t have to be a part of the recovery process, but unfortunately it is. I won’t go into the gory details of what drug(s) I used (also, I might want to add that I personally do consider alcohol a drug so keep that in mind as I talk about ‘drugs’) or the things that I did while under the influence. But let me tell you how bad I completely mind-screwed myself into thinking that because over the course of a week I only used a couple of times, that maybe - just MAYBE - I was functional. Because I wasn’t functional, I was a nervous wreck and hopeless and desperate and let’s not even go into “the mirror moment”. Ya know, that moment when you’re high or drunk or whatever and you look in a mirror and start thinking “What have I become?” or “What happened?” or “How could this be who I am (again)?” - that moment. Yes, I had one of those, and it was horrible. I practically fell to the bathroom floor balling my eyes out, and it sucked. Of course, naturally, I started looking for excuses for my using or reasons other than the fact that I wanted to or people/places/things that I could blame for my picking up again. The main one that crossed my mind a few times was “Well if my parents hadn’t put me on a plane back to Florida....” Hah! Isn’t that funny? It’s all their fault and definitely Florida’s fault. NOT!

I have since then climbed back on the bandwagon. My clean date is May 23, 2017. It’s shameful for me to write that, but if I don’t then I’m lying to myself. That hurts more than hurting others. I’m lucky to be alive. And to backtrack a little bit, that’s partially why I was so caught up in my feelings about my friend Justin passing. Why him instead of me? Why do I get to live, but not him? These questions will remain unanswered until something sees fit that I know. I’m just going to continue moving forward, and look at my relapse as a learning experience. Today, I am a grateful recovering addict.

Tonight I went to a meeting here in Annapolis where we’re currently residing in a hotel while the boat is still being worked on down in southern MD. I had been to this meeting before and met some people, but it’s been a month so I didn’t expect anyone to remember me. Boy, was I short-changing myself. As I walked up to the front steps of the building where it was held, four people came up to me and gave me hugs and asked me how my vacation was! One of the guys even offered to give me a ride home tonight, take me to a meeting tomorrow night, AND asked if I wanted to join him on an excursion up to Baltimore for Saturday evening’s meeting. What?! I was just blown away by that... It was incredible.

Of course I called my sponsor as soon as I got back to the hotel and told him the course of events. I told him about the conversation I had with my parents last night regarding my relapse, I told him about the guy at the meeting who wants to hang out this weekend, I told him about how my mom disclosed to me that we will be (somewhere) in MD until the third week of September! I literally had a smile from ear to ear during that last tidbit. I mean happiness was just oozing out of my pores. By the time we got off of the phone, I was too happy to just go back up to the room and go to sleep. I had to call someone else. So, in honor of National Best Friend Day, I called my best friend. I told her all about my evening last night and my day today and my evening tonight. We talked for a good while and just bantered back and forth about so many things. She contributed to my happiness today when we were texting earlier so I definitely had to thank her for that. Sometimes you just need your person, like Meredith Grey and Christina Yang (for those of you who didn’t know, I’m a huge Grey’s Anatomy buff).

Today started out kind of shitty. I was all caught up in my head and my feelings and I didn’t want to be back at work and I didn’t want to be around anyone, but tonight I’m going to sleep feeling good. I know that not every day is going to be or feel this good, but I’m going to embrace the good that I have right in this very moment.

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paulbenedictblog · 4 years

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%news%

New Post has been published on %http://paulbenedictsgeneralstore.com%

Donald Trump is a 'bad mother f-----' because he's 'done crazy s--- a lot of people wish they could do,' UFC fighter Jorge Masvidal says

Jorge Masvidal has accredited a formal invite to the White House in Washington DC and talked about Donald Trump has "achieved a style of crazy s--- that a style of of us desire they would possibly per chance well perhaps assemble."

Visiting the Oval Workplace will punctuate an extra special 12 months for Masvidal, as the Floridian fighter turn into within the dialog for fighter of the year closing year after victories over Darren Till, Ben Askren, and Nate Diaz.

During that time he has been opening up multiple streams of earnings as an envoy for CBDmd and alongside with his include branded Mezcal.

But he hopes his good payday is yet to return and is concentrating on a welterweight showdown with Conor McGregor.

McGregor fights Donald Cerrone at the UFC 246 match in Las Vegas on Saturday and Masvidal instructed us he'll be Octagonside "having a true historical time," working on battling McGregor later within the year ought to he do away with this weekend.

Confer with Industry Insider's homepage for extra reports.

Continuing what's been a whirlwind year, Jorge Masvidal has accredited a formal invitation to the White House, praising US President Donald Trump as "one execrable motherf-----."

Masvidal finished 2019 by beating Nate Diaz in front of Trump, who turn into looking out at Octagonside at the UFC 244 match in Madison Square Backyard, Fresh York, to do away with a standalone BMF belt which stands for the "baddest mom f-----" within the game.

Masvidal instructed Industry Insider unprejudiced no longer too long ago that it turn into "rather chilly" to include performed so smartly in front of Trump.

"He goes by plenty getting impeached however no matter your views on him, that's one execrable mom f-----. He is finished a style of crazy s--- that a style of of us desire they would possibly per chance well perhaps assemble."

Masvidal talked about he'll be visiting Trump in his Oval Workplace at the White House in Washington DC, taking the different to boom the records while belittling a rival — the MAGA-hat carrying wrestler Colby Covington, who had his jaw broken by Kamaru Usman in a recent title bout at UFC 245

"Now we include bought an invitation to the White House so we are going to be stopping one day. Yeah, we are going to be going," Masvidal talked about. "Mr. Trump asked us to toddle. No longer esteem other warring parties who earn their jaw broken and are begging, 'Please, please Mr. President preserve me to your Oval Workplace.' We bought a formal invite and everything. He seen my work and conception, 'This one chilly, young man let's lift this guy on by.'"

A White House toddle to caps an extra special 12 months for Masvidal

Masvidal enjoyed a thumping 2019.

Photo by Michael Owens/Zuffa LLC/Zuffa LLC

There are few warring parties who enjoyed as stellar a year as the UFC welterweight did in 2019. In a Industry Insider record rating boxers and mixed martial artists together, Masvidal finished as the third high fighter of the year. Forbes, CBS Sports, and a reader pollon Bloody Elbow all sided with the Floridian otherwise identified as "Gamebred."

In March, Masvidal knocked out the British fighter Darren Till and earned Performance of the Night and Fight of the Night bonuses. In July, he scored the quickest knockout in UFC history by ending Ben Askren with a 5-2d flying knee. And in November he bludgeoned Diaz to such an extent that the physician stopped the bout.

"Every of these wins is particular in a distinct technique," Masvidal instructed Industry Insider. "Till turn into my comeback strive against, been out for a year and coming off a loss. And if Darren Till would now not happen, then Ben Askren would now not happen. If Ben Askren would now not happen, then Nate Diaz would now not happen. Every of these fights is equally as indispensable and big to me, one to the other."

It turn into a within the abet of-the-scenes brawl with Leon Edwards at a UFC London cloak which holds a varied disclose in Masvidal's heart, even though.

"On a deepest level that turn into gargantuan satisfying," Masvidal talked about. "This dude, all he's been doing is talking crap. He isn't any longer the style of guy who gonna exit and work you — what he does is focus on about you, toddle to your boss and focus on execrable, converse he assemble this, that, however he would now not … he would now not attain no one. He focus on that s--- about me, bought build in his disclose, then talked about I assaulted him. The guy's confused, clearly."

Masvidal's expanding his streams of earnings

Masvidal is bringing his include Mezcal to the market, and has a partnership with CBDmd.

YouTube / MMA Battling

Cherish Conor McGregor, who constructed an MMA net residing referred to as The MacLife, the whiskey brand Exact no. Twelve, and the clothing line August McGregor, Masvidal is constructing multiple streams of incoming away from the UFC.

He has been taste-attempting out Mezcal and is bringing his include bottle to the market, and is an envoy for CBDmd, a firm which says it sells THC-free CBD products.

Masvidal speaks passionately about each and every. Mezcal, he says, is all about striking the cleanest stuff within the bottle. He even went to the manufacturing facility multiple times earlier than signing a deal to lift a Masvidal-branded Mezcal to the drinks commerce within the arrival months.

"We bought with some of us to include a true product, keeping it as natural as possible," he talked about. "The route of of it is incredible. From agave plant, fermentation … it's a marvelous route of which takes six to eight years, seed to bottle."

As smartly as playing Mezcal, Masvidal says he turn into a marijuana person however is extra conscious of what he puts in his body so he passes the performance-bettering drug tests which ensures he's ready to proceed doing his day job — battling.

He partnered with CBDmd is on myth of they're THC-free, he talked about.

"At an even time, no tablets allowed, so I could perhaps now not smoke marijuana however the good thing I could perhaps include in my body to abet with trouble from each day is CBD. Any minuscule quantity of THC could perhaps earn me banned from six months to 2 years and so something else I build in my body must be sacred.

"There is nothing within the arena esteem CBD for inflammation. No one takes extra impact in sport than in my sport. If I'm no longer looking out out for to kick any individual within the pinnacle, they're looking out out for to kick me within the pinnacle. That's a style of impact. That occurs on each day foundation. CBD drops the inflammation.

"Usually I'm in a position to't build my shoe on on myth of my foot is esteem a soccer ball however two days of remedy it goes down. Or no longer it's crazy."

But his good payday is yet to return, he hopes

"I purchased some substantial plans in 2020," he talked about, nodding to the longer term.

That future also can smartly own Conor McGregor, the conventional two-weight UFC champion who returns to mixed martial arts against Donald Cerrone at the UFC 246 match at the T-Mobile Enviornment in Las Vegas on Saturday.

Masvidal shall be Octagonside this weekend and hopes to trap the Irishman accurate into a welterweight bout later within the year.

"We will be there having a true historical time," he talked about. "We're looking out out for to invent that strive against."

Read extra:

Conor McGregor has broken his silence about 2 sexual assault allegations, asserting 'time will cloak all'

One of boxing's most highly effective males, 88, says he could perhaps die earlier than his potentialities turn into champions

Conor McGregor can assemble whatever he desires in coaching for his subsequent strive against on myth of his coach says he is conscious of extra than they assemble

Donald "Cowboy" Cerrone's coach has talked about Conor McGregor is a one-trick pony who can with out concerns be lassoed

Conor McGregor loves the mirror, has a huge ego, and obtained't ever be a 'bulky, historical guy,' his coach says

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momsalt54-blog · 5 years

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A Mutual Bewitchment

NOVEMBER 21, 2018

READING A WRITER’S LETTERS to a beloved friend is the best way to get into that author’s head. Hugh Kenner and Guy Davenport were soulmates, deeply devoted to modern art and literature. They were poet-critics — a term Marjorie Perloff fastened to Kenner — “whose books and essays place [them] among writers rather than academic commentators.” (As Davenport described his method: “I am not writing for scholars or fellow critics, but for people who like to read, to look at pictures, and to know things.”) The bulk of the letters collected in these two compelling volumes are from 1961–’71 — almost two-thirds of the 2,000 pages — with 1961–’66 taking up half. Editor Edward M. Burns has done a monumental job assiduously annotating this vast correspondence.

The crux of their mutual bewitchment occurs in 1963, just as the major American Modernists they revered — Williams, Eliot, Moore, and Pound — start to die off. Though there are glancing references in the letters to contemporary persons and events, such as Vietnam and Nixon, both writers were much more interested in issues of art and poetry — the source of the term “wine-dark” in Pound’s “Canto II” or the films of Stan Brakhage. Pound’s work was a particular obsession (“He was a renaissance,” Davenport stated simply). Independent of each other, both men visited the aging poet in St. Elizabeths Hospital during his 12-year incarceration there and, later, in Italy during his self-imposed exile.

For both Davenport and Kenner, modern painting had fundamentally changed writing itself. They were particularly interested in the discovery of prehistoric cave drawings in Europe, which so deeply influenced Picasso. Davenport, himself a draughtsman, had an ingrained respect for visual art, but Kenner came to this view in his own way. Kenner believed the drawings Davenport did for Kenner’s Flaubert, Joyce, and Beckett: The Stoic Comedians (1962) and The Counterfeiters (1967) were as important as the texts; he tried, unsuccessfully, to get Davenport 50 percent of the royalties for the first book.

Kenner (born in 1923, four years before Davenport) studied under Marshall McLuhan at the University of Toronto before going to Yale, where at the age of 26 he wrote The Poetry of Ezra Pound (1951) over the course of a summer break. This book was central to Davenport’s own thesis at Harvard on the first 30 Cantos, delivered in 1961 and published in 1983 as Cities on Hills. A Rhodes Scholar at Oxford, Davenport came from South Carolina, “having been born into the black Depression and raised in picturesque poverty, homely morals, and love.” The two men met in 1953 but didn’t start seriously communicating until 1961. They visited each other only around a dozen times; in one early meeting, they conversed avidly for 30 hours. Kenner tried to arrange for Davenport to join him at UC Santa Barbara, where he had a teaching position, but the younger writer landed a job at the University of Kentucky, near his family, where he remained for three decades. Already an established writer, Kenner helped secure a reviewing gig for Davenport with the National Review; later they would occasionally review each other’s works. Of Davenport’s 1981 book The Geography of the Imagination, Kenner said: “If having known a man for twenty-five years is to disqualify one from talking about his work, then our literary culture will have to be left to hermits.”

The frenetic pace of their letter writing is astounding, with sometimes two or three letters piling up in a few days before the answers to the originals were written. Some of the letters are long, some stark and confessional, yet all display good humor as well as a unique patois — “Tennyrate” for “at any rate,” “Hahvud” for “Harvard,” “nuvvle” for “novel.” Occasionally one will poach the other’s words, as when Kenner used Davenport’s comment that “[t]hought is a labyrinth” as the final sentence of The Pound Era (1971). Kenner also frequently asks the classically trained Davenport — who brilliantly translated numerous works of ancient poetry — about Greek and Latin meanings. For his part, Davenport usually defers to his more prolific friend, claiming he could hardly call himself a writer compared to someone who averaged a book every two years over a three-decade stretch.

There is the usual grousing about the literary world, especially critics who couldn’t stomach Pound or who couldn’t see the importance of Beckett. They complain about reviewers who attacked them based on all sorts of wrongheaded ideas (e.g., accusing Davenport of being a “cryptoconservative” when he claimed to always vote Democratic). Neither man suffered fools gladly, but they also yearned for recognition. Kenner received the brunt of bad press, including scorn for his supposedly mannered “style,” in which he deliberately aped the style of his subjects. Davenport, more combative but also more sickly (various maladies are bemoaned), struggled to see his fiction (mostly short stories — Kenner dubbed them “assemblages”) skewered by the major critics of the day.

The volumes are filled with little gems of observation, as when Kenner writes that the “whole point of a book is what happens in the five minutes after one has finished reading it.” Secrets are disclosed, as when Davenport tells of how his father died in the hospital and of his admiration for him, despite their differences (“I never ‘rebelled’ and he never coerced”). Kenner responds with mystic wisdom: “To have done his part in making you what you are, and to have so much grown beyond the natural concerns of his generation as to take an understanding satisfaction in contemplating your place in yours, these are two substantial moral achievements for which his memory should be honored.” Later, he thanks Davenport for caring for his five children after his first wife died of cancer, helping him “to realize what an achievement family is: and it is her achievement. They are, singly and collectively, her memorial. Everything perhaps perishes but tradition.”

These letters are also an elegy for a world not dominated by technology, where one had to physically track things down — as in their quest for the copy of Eliot’s The Waste Land that Pound sedulously edited, which occupied them in the early years (it was discovered at the New York Public Library in 1968), or the details Kenner sought from Davenport when the latter retraced Pound’s visit to his childhood home (“What part of town could Pound see from the porch?”). Such dogged modes of research are now in eclipse in our digital world. We can thus be grateful for an editor like Burns, whose scholarship here includes tracing the lost history of Lester Littlefield, a hanger-on of Pound and Marianne Moore, who sent the former books at St. Elizabeths and rented the house in Venice once occupied by Olga Rudge (Pound’s late companion). Littlefield badgered Kenner and Davenport with critical and raving letters, sometimes 40 pages long. Google him and there is barely anything, a stray sentence in a book result or two, but Burns gives him an almost three-page footnote — an internet-resistant epitaph, at least until these volumes are digitized.

From 1979 until Kenner’s death in 2003, there is a large drop-off in the friends’ correspondence — a great mystery, yet the greatest of life: friends growing apart. According to Burns, people who knew both men believe that Davenport’s homoerotic fictions put Kenner off, though as early as 1961, Davenport shared details of his seeking out young men on various trips. He referred to them as “Erewhonians,” from Samuel Butler’s 1872 novel Erewhon, about a utopia where people fear that machines will develop consciousness. Also, Davenport grew more hermetic as he aged, responding to Kenner’s query if he would do a lecture with a steely “Tell your students I do not travel.” Certainly they spoke on the phone, but in those last 25 years, it is almost always Kenner writing to draw his friend out, and often Davenport doesn’t respond — their revels had ended. Did Davenport feel rejected? In the last letter, Kenner writes: “We have been apart too long.” He died 14 months later.

Over the course of their long careers, Davenport and Kenner helped to shape the best ways of reading difficult works of modernist poetry and prose — not only Pound but also Joyce, Eliot, Beckett, and many others. Kindred spirits reminiscent of Emerson and Thoreau, these “questioning minds” were two of the most refined artistic sensibilities this continent has ever produced. Readers can be grateful that their complex friendship has been so beautifully enshrined in Burns’s scrupulous volumes.

Greg Gerke’s work has appeared in Tin House, Film Quarterly, The Kenyon Review, and other publications.

Source: https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/a-mutual-bewitchment/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years

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EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT MATTER

Nowadays a lot of time doing it. It would feel unnatural to him to behave any other way. People who worry about the increasing gap between rich and poor generally look back on the default explanation of people living in fallen civilizations. We can of course counter by sending a crawler to look at what you've done in the cold light of morning, and see all its flaws very clearly.1 If a language had twenty separate users, meaning twenty users who decided on their own to use it. And someone has to argue with you, because everyone has base impulses, and if you have a statically-typed language without lexical closures or macros. Perhaps the most successful countries, in the future.

Common Lisp has neither. Which means, interestingly, that determination tends to erode itself.2 Email is not just classification, because false positives are my bug list. I count them as false positives because I hadn't been deleting them as spams before. It might even be possible to write a dissertation. Later, when you want to work for will be as impressed by that as good grades on class assignments. A survey course in art history may be worthwhile. Oddly enough, it won't pay for spammers to spoof: just add a big chunk of random text to counterbalance the spam terms. But that's like using a screwdriver to open bottles; what one really wants is a bottle opener. The idea of them making startup investments is comic. Smart people will go wherever other smart people are.3 Everyone likes to believe that's what makes startups succeed.

What, another search engine? They don't need that much money, and they don't want the hassles that come with it. You have to be. Generally, the garage guys envy the big bang guys. Nerds are a distinct subset of the creative class, they want to live somewhere, you could create in a couple minutes. But it's the bold ideas that generate the biggest returns. When they go to VC firms. They're hard to filter based just on the headers, no matter what they say in the body.

And yet I think they are often mistaken to feel sorry for themselves. So if you want to attract nerds, you need more than a question of just solving a problem. If you wanted to park it. Hackers at every college learn practical skills, and not by accident. There is a kind of pleasure here too. Boldness pays. The opinion of expert hackers is not the same as most language designers'. Ruby on Linux. Apple is in the suburbs.4

Could you reproduce Silicon Valley elsewhere, or is there something unique about it?5 It's also more formal and distant, which gives the reader's attention permission to drift. Is life actually short, or are we really complaining about its finiteness? You have to be new. A round. The good news is that the initial seed can be quite small. People who worry about the increasing gap between rich and poor generally look back on the default explanation of people living in fallen civilizations. By delaying learning VRML, I avoided having to learn it at all.6 Things that lure you into wasting your time on that's bullshit, you probably already know the answer. VCs aren't interested in such small deals. Make a good car? If you've lived in New York, where people walk, but not smiling.

And such an algorithm would be easy for spammers to send it, and the cost of typing it.7 When they first start working on something, you must have it, no matter what. C, MIT's dialect of Lisp, called MacLisp, was one of those that exploit an insecure cgi script to send mail to third parties.8 The last ingredient a popular language needs is time. Howard Aiken said Don't worry about people stealing your ideas. Using big abstractions you can write the first version of a program very quickly. Google survived to become a big, independent company is the same reason their joinery always has. One great thing about having small children is that they make you spend time on things that matter and things that don't, and only gradually learn to distinguish between them.9 I've read was not in a book, and something to hack. So these five false positives so far, startups that turn down acquisition offers is not necessarily that all such offers undervalue startups. What does it mean, exactly?

This really is kind of a bug. FREE Free free If you do this, be sure to consider versions with initial caps as well as money. If everyone's filters have different probabilities, it will make a very big difference to the bottom line how many users make a critical mass of experts in an important new technology together in a place they liked enough to stay. But often memory will be the limit; the number of temptations around you. One way to describe this situation is to say that a language has to be planted in the right soil, or it will be a good thing when it happens, because these new investors will be compelled by the structure of the investments they make to be ten times bolder than present day VCs.10 Prose can be rewritten over and over until you're happy with it. When specialists in some abstruse topic talk to one another; but you can learn how to predict which startups will succeed.

I've proposed to several VC firms that they set aside some money and designate one partner to make more, smaller bets, and they don't want the hassles that come with it. They're the ones that set the trends, both for other startups and for VCs. Starting a startup is like science in that you have to follow the model of Tcl, and supply the Lisp together with a complete system for supporting server-based applications, it will stay.11 Well, maybe. People should be able to charge for content when it works to charge for content without warping society in order to live in a town where the cool people are really cool. Remember, hackers are lazy. But an illusion it was.

Notes

Some of the increase in economic inequality—that an idea where the richest country in the country it's in. No.

Unfortunately these times are a hundred and one kind that evolves into Facebook isn't merely a better strategy in an urban context, issues basically means things we're going to lie to adults. This approach has not worked well, but no more than the founders lots of potential winners, from which I deliberately pander to readers, though sloppier language than I'd use to calibrate the weighting of the young Henry VIII and was troubled by debts all his life. By your mid-game. The trustafarians' ancestors didn't get rich will use this thing yourself, if you like a conversation reaches a certain city because of the word content and tried for a really long time?

A startup's success at fundraising is because their company for more than clumsy efforts to protect one's children seems weaker, judging from things people have told us that the only reason I say the rate of change in the bouillon cube s, cover, and a back seat to philology, which is the new economy during the entire cross-country Internet bandwidth wasn't enough for one another directly through the buzz that surrounds wisdom in this algorithm are calculated using a dictionary from scratch is not just something the telephone, the only significant channel was our own startup Viaweb, which is the most useless investors are just not super thoughtful for the popular vote he would have been the fastest to hire a lot of companies to do tedious work. This was made a lot of the next three years, maybe you don't see them, not eating virtuously. The best investors rarely care who else is investing, which are a hundred years ago. It's hard for us to Steve Huffman and Alexis Ohanian, both of whom have become direct marketers.

Some find they have that glazed over look. Please do not do this right you'd have to disclose the threat to potential speakers. The Sub-Zero 690, one could aspire to the environment. Some VCs seem to be the model for Internet clients too.

Tell the investors.

This has already happened once in China, during the Ming Dynasty, when I read most things I write. The only reason you're even considering the other becomes visible. False positives are not very discerning. But while such trajectories may be a quiet, earnest place like Cambridge in that so many people work with the exception of the Industrial Revolution, Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Not in New York the center of gravity of the anti-dilution provisions also protect you against tricks like a month might to an employer hired men based on that.

Median may be enough to absorb that. At the time quantum for hacking is very long: it favors small companies. When Harvard kicks undergrads out for here, which shows how unimportant the Arpanet which became the Internet, like selflessness, might come from meditating in an urban legend. Adam Smith Wealth of Nations, v: i mentions several that tried to be the next Facebook, if you seem like a little more fat, and all the page-generating templates are still a dick move.

So it's a collection itself.

Gauss was supposedly asked this when he was otherwise unoccupied, to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to private schools that in practice is that you're being gratuitously troublesome. I used to reply that they got to see if you include the cases where a lot about how to be careful. But should you do if your school, and everyone's used to say whether the 25 people have for one video stream.

If you want to create a web-based applications. It will also interest investors. After a while ago, the world wars to say that it sounds like the Segway and Google Wave. In 1995, when the audience at an academic talk might appreciate a joke, they only even consider great people.

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virginiamurrayblog · 6 years

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Healing from Assault Is Almost Impossible Without Family Support

(Photo: Stocksy)

“There was kind of a moment of regret,” recalls Madi Fuller. She was sitting in a police station break room in New York City, stranded and alone. “I was like, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.’” A third-year politics major, Fuller was visiting New York for an international model UN event in March 2016. The week-long conference brought students from around the world—including the man who spiked her drink at a bar.

“All I knew was that I fell asleep and [then] this was happening,” Fuller says of her assault. “I woke up in a hotel room with someone having sex with me that I didn’t know.”

She confronted the man after the attack and his response was horrifyingly glib: “I didn’t think the pills would kick in so hard.”

But her own haziness about how the night transpired, conflicting reports from witnesses (all friends of the accused who claim Fuller was awake and consenting during the incident) and discouragement from the police, who warned against a drawn-out legal process that would require her to stay in New York longer, meant that Fuller’s case never went beyond that break room. Having already missed two flights home, feeling evermore exhausted and ashamed, she decided to go home without pressing charges.

But back in the GTA, her humiliation swelled. Reporting to police was one thing, but disclosing to her parents—especially her father—was another.

“He was just like, ‘were you drinking?’” Fuller recalls about her father’s reaction. “He [said] ‘You shouldn’t have drank that much; who’s this guy?’ It came up in anger against me, and that’s the last time we talked about it.”

Two years later she’s still struggling to come to terms with how her dad mishandled the situation.

“There are times when the reaction to the disclosure can be more traumatic than the actual assault,” says Stephanie Albiani, a clinician at New Directions in Winnipeg. Albiani runs the Families Affected by Sexual Assault Program, working with the parents and siblings of individuals under 18 who’ve experienced sexual violence by someone outside the family. The program—which has been operating for 30 years and is one of very few of its kind in Canada—works under the premise parents play an essential and active role in the healing process.

“What we know is that when children are believed, that sets them on a good track [for recovery],” Albiani says. Without an initial message of support, she explains, the healing process gets halted. And while Albiani notes that survivors can sometimes heal without this familial support—either through the help of friends or other support groups—the feeling of being alone can be incredibly hard to overcome.

The most recent numbers from Statistics Canada, based on self-reporting, estimate that only 5% of sexual assaults in 2014 were reported to police. Nearly half of the women said they didn’t want the hassle of dealing with police, while others decided not to pursue legal action due to a perceived lack of evidence and the belief that reporting wouldn’t lead to a resolution. Essentially, they didn’t think they’d be believed by the system, which makes familial support that much more essential. “We live in a world where survivors are constantly questioned,” says Yamikani Msosa, a counsellor at Ryerson University’s Office of Sexual Violence Support and Education. “It’s one thing when society does it, but it’s another thing when it’s coming from people you should feel safe with.”

Through her work with survivors, Msosa has seen the effects that a lack of family supportcan have on victims. “Sometimes survivors say to me, ‘I’m able to deal with the fact that I was sexually assaulted, but I cannot deal with the fact that my family didn’t believe me.’”

There are a lot of reasons parents may react unfavourably

Anna Scott* was molested by a husband and wife that babysat her when she was three years old. Growing up in a small farming community in Ontario, she says it was hard for her parents to handle the geographical intimacy of her perpetrator, who was a member of her family’s church. “We had to leave the church [because] it’s a small, small, small place.”

When she tried to bring it up with her parents again years later, Scott was met with silence. Now in her thirties and working with child victims of sexual abuse herself, Scott says this lack of acknowledgment has been painful—but at the same time she understands the root causes. “I know that the reason they’re so reluctant to talk about [the assault] is because it really fucked up their lives too,” she says. “But at the same time, I am a little resentful that they can’t put [their feelings] aside and just have a conversation with me.”

While every case and family is unique, it’s important to note that most parents aren’t reacting poorly out of malice. “I think that the denial comes from parents feeling guilty that they weren’t necessarily there [to stop the assault]…and not knowing how to negotiate that,” says Msosa.

Besides the guilt, Msosa says, there can also be a tendency among families to want to keep assaults secret if the violence is—as in Scott’s case—perpetrated by a family member or someone close to the family.

Scott’s experience with her parents after her initial assault influenced how she reacted to the next two (she was raped twice in her final year of grad school, by different individuals she had considered friends)—she never told them. Just a few years ago, her younger brother disclosed that he had also been sexually assaulted by a different babysitter at a young age. He never told their parents, either. And they both never plan to, Scott says. “I just don’t think they would get it in the way that I need them to get it.”

What survivors need is simple: love, acceptance and support

After her third sexual assault, in the summer of 2010, Scott says she “really fell apart.” Drinking excessively and acting out, she resorted to behaviour that was out of character, and those around her who didn’t know about her assault struggled to understand her actions. “My choices made no sense to people who didn’t know what I’d been through.” Had she been able to speak about her experiences with those close to her, she would not have felt the need to drown them out with alcohol, she says.

Without her family, she built up a support system of her own—she had to. But it took a lot of work and proactiveness on her part; relying on friends who experienced similar harassment and could help her cope. “I’ve been in therapy on and off for a long time,” she adds. In grad school, she sought therapy directly after both assaults—especially the second incident. “Because I was super fucked up after that one.”

Although Fuller has a close relationship with her parents, her journey to healing has been largely independent as well. She attended counselling alone and stayed at school in St. Catharines, Ont., rarely travelling home for fear of opening up conversations she says she knew her parents didn’t want to have. “I just felt it would be easier not to face that conversation,” she says, “because no one likes [it].”

But, she concedes, this inability to discuss her assault and pursue legal action has been the hardest part of recovery. “I think I kind of lost faith in my dad [as] this figure that’s always protective and on [my] side,” Fuller says. And because of this, her path to healing looks a little different than people may assume. “In the process of—not forgiving my rapist—but obviously some sort of forgiveness for myself and forgiving the situation as a whole, there was some forgiving of my dad for the way he dealt with the situation,” she says.

What families can do

Understandably, it can be difficult to act as if everything’s the same post-assault, but Albiani says acting “normal” is the best way to engage with survivors. This can be especially tricky for dads she says, who may feel inappropriate being affectionate with their daughters, fearful that it may upset or further traumatize them. But ultimately, it can be what survivors need the most. For Glen Canning, a sexual violence advocate and father of Rehtaeh Parsons—the Halifax teenager who was assaulted in 2011 and died by suicide in the aftermath of her assault—the period after his daughter disclosed her assault was one of uncertainty. “I told her I have absolutely no idea what my role is as a father.” He’d never imagined being the dad of a sexual assault survivor, of having to help someone in such a vulnerable state. “She said what she wanted from me was was for me to keep being her father, the way I always was,” Canning recalls. “Because it was one part of her life that was still normal.”

Ultimately, Canning says, there’s no foolproof plan for helping a family member cope with sexual assault. “But we did believe that we did everything we could to let Rae know she was loved and that things would get better for her,” he says. “We did everything we could.”

For fathers, especially, supporting a daughter who has been sexually assaulted can be extremely complicated. “A lot of men were taught to keep their emotions inside,” says Fuller, commenting on her own dad. “So when something very traumatic like this happens they don’t know how to deal.”

Regardless of how much a parent is hurting, though, the emphasis needs to be on the victim’s needs and feelings. “Believe me, you’re furious,” Canning says. “But at the same time your focus has to be on your child.” This means allowing survivors to take the lead in their own healing, while supporting their decisions from the sidelines. For Canning, it was providing Rehtaeh with information and resources, but allowing her to dictate whether or not she pursued them. “We always said it was important, but we never, ever put her in a position where she had to do something she didn’t want to do,” he emphasizes, “because that’s already happened to her.”

Programs like the one at New Directions acknowledge the complex emotions family members can feel during what Albiani describes as the tumultuous period around disclosure. “Our role is to help mitigate that and help parents continue to be there as a support for their kids,” she says. And this support begins before they’re exposed to sexual violence. Canning emphasizes that parents need to have open and honest discussions with their kids about sexual violence, healthy relationships and consent. “You have to have a lot of trust with your child so that they do feel safe talking to you about things like sexual violence in their life,” he says. “If they don’t feel comfortable talking to you then I’d just hate to imagine the place that they’re in.”

Two years on from her assault, the place Fuller’s in is one of reflection. Currently living and working away from home, she sees her ongoing healing as a two-way street—for both herself and her parents, especially her dad. When she looks back at the period around her disclosure, she says now that she wishes she’d run towards, instead of away from, her family. “I [wish it had been] more so moving forward as a family rather than just me. There [were] more people to the story.”

“I know from my own life that we don’t always behave our best with the people we love, and we don’t mean to hurt them,” Scott says of her feelings towards her parents now. “I choose to believe they love me and have always done their best.” And, most importantly, Scott wants to keep moving forward. “I don’t want to minimize my experience, but I don’t want it to overwhelm my identity, either,” she says. “I just know that if this comes again—with my own children or with friends or their children—I will handle things differently than my parents have.”

“After Being Raped, I Needed to Learn How to Have Sex Again” I Was Raped, Then, My Rapist Tweeted About It 10 Women, from 24 to 60, on Aziz Ansari, Sexual Assault and Bad Sex

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kidsviral-blog · 6 years

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My Boyfriend Loves Fat Women

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/my-boyfriend-loves-fat-women/

My Boyfriend Loves Fat Women

As a fat woman myself, I’m still struggling with how I feel about it.

View this image ›

Jenny Chang / BuzzFeed

Ironically enough, I met my boyfriend during the thinnest month of my life.

I was at a friend’s birthday party at a bar when I saw my future boyfriend Brian from across the room, talking to the birthday boy. Brian was the type of guy I spent most of high school and college and my entire adult life pining after and never getting: slim, with dark hair and glasses, his jeans torn in all the best places. He had a beautiful mouth that was excitedly saying things I couldn’t hear, but was making everyone around him laugh.

If I had still been at my heaviest weight, I never would have approached Brian. As a fat woman, I have been taught that there is an order of operations for love: First, you get thin; then, you can date who you want. Until you do the first thing, the second thing is impossible. So for many women who struggle with their weight, it becomes a fight not just for their health or well-being, but a struggle to just be worthy of the love so many people take for granted.

Most of my life, my weight has felt like a search light from above that continually hounds me, putting the spotlight on my body even when I just want to hide. My third-grade class unofficially voted me “class pig” — a title I embraced with great gusto, because the alternative meant no friends. When I was 10, my dad ripped a box of Apple Jacks out of my hand while I was pouring myself a second bowl of cereal, and told me that I was “going to turn into a goddamn pumpkin.” The summer I turned 14, I was sweating my life out every day for an hour during swim team practice. Still, when I put on a bikini one day, my mother wouldn’t stop talking about my belly fat until I just wanted to throw the bikini away and never wear one again. I have always hated my body, and in retrospect, I’m not sure I was ever given the chance to love it.

But on the day I met Brian, I had just spent the previous year slowly winnowing off 50 pounds, almost entirely due to unemployment. I wasn’t buying a lot of food, and was spending much of my free time developing a nervous running habit that led me to spend hours every day trotting in circles around my neighborhood, trying to go somewhere even as my career was jogging in place.

So I was feeling brave, the stupid kind of courage that comes from unexpectedly having a body you never thought you’d inhabit, and wondering what kinds of things it might let you get away with. And I walked that crazy all the way over to the other side of the bar, and introduced myself to him.

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There was a three-hour period — between the moment Brian first kissed me, and the moment when I learned that Brian was predominantly attracted to bigger women — when I felt like I could do anything. In my mind, I had done the impossible. Seducing a thin and attractive person was like taking bronze, silver, and gold in the Former Fat Girl Olympics.

At some point that night, I remember lying next to him, still feeling unbelievably cocky from my victory, when Brian mentioned that I wasn’t normally his type.

My inner Douchebag Alert went off. Oh god, I thought. Is this the part where he lets me know how nice he is for throwing my chubby ass a bone?

“What’s normally your type?” I asked him, bracing myself for the part where he not-so-subtly intimated that he can usually do better than me.

I did not get the response I expected.

“I like bigger ladies,” Brian replied. “Very big ladies, actually.” He sounded as calm and as normal as if he were telling me the weather. He was not ashamed. I suddenly realized that this was not an attempt to put me down, but rather just a thing (a completely normal thing, to him) that he was disclosing about himself. In other words: It was conversation.

But the little part of me inside that had been cheering for hours suddenly got very quiet. But I am your type, I thought sadly. In that moment, I know that Brian had been saying that he didn’t consider me to be big, but I know as well as anyone that people can’t fundamentally change who they are attracted to. Brian was still attracted to fat girls, and I was one of them.

This, of course, did not take away from how into Brian I was. We started dating almost immediately, and became inseparable. When I described him to people, I would tend to use celebrities who I was currently in love with as a frame of reference:

“He’s exactly like a dark-haired Ben Folds, but younger, and with better skin.”

“He looks just like an American version of John Oliver, but with better teeth, and a more attractive nose.”

“Brian looks like Rick Moranis in Ghostbusters,” I said once during a Halloween party, apropos of absolutely nothing. “But, like, even better looking.”

It was during this time that I started slowly putting the weight back on. Not because Brian was doing anything to sabotage me — he was and is supportive of my wanting to eat well and exercise. It was just a result of being in a happy relationship, suddenly having a full-time job, and life getting in the way. Normal things.

Six months into our relationship, I found myself in a very desperate laundry situation. I put on a sundress that I thought might be a little too backless for my current weight.

“I figure if worst comes to worst, I can just find a wall to stand against, or walk backward a lot,” I said to Brian as I put it on, trying to preemptively apologize for an outfit that I was pretty sure was riding the line between flattering and gross.

Brian, however, loved the dress. Maybe even a little too much — I spent a lot of time while wearing it swatting his hands away from the open back. I felt happy wearing it, beautiful. Soon, I was wearing it all the time.

Then, I wore it to a party. Late in the evening, Brian turned to a mutual friend of ours, and eagerly, drunkenly opined: “Doesn’t Kristin look amazing in that dress?”

The silence that followed felt like the moment before someone hits the button on a dunk tank, and you know that you are about to tumble, helpless, into a frosty tub of punishment. I realized, belatedly, obviously, that to Brian, I did look amazing in that dress. Because I looked fat.

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When you are a fat person who is losing weight, people will come out of the woodwork to let you know how “amazing” you look — even my psychiatrist called me “the incredible shrinking woman” at nearly every appointment. Well-meaning people felt this constant need to make it plain that I was somehow better once I had lost weight, and it only made it that much more painful when people stop telling you how good you look, and stop saying anything at all.

For the first time since I had started dating Brian, I looked at myself and realized that my body, almost without my realizing it, was reverting to back to its former fat state. This is the real you, I thought. The other you was just a disguise. But you couldn’t fool everyone forever.

And the fewer compliments about my body that I got from other people, the more I would get from Brian. It got to the point where compliments from Brian were actually painful to hear — every time he said “You look beautiful,” all I could hear was “You look fat.”

I started trying on outfits in front of Brian in order to get his opinion. It was a good system. Anything he liked, I wouldn’t wear.

It was during this time that I started being mean to myself — really, truly unkind. I looked at myself for hours in the mirror the way a child might gawk at an ugly person on the street. I would push and pull the rolls of fat on my stomach with my hands as flat as I could, and try to imagine what my lower half would look like, unencumbered by what I had done to it. I’d meet every compliment Brian gave me with something equally cruel about myself. It was like my self-image was in a tennis match, and it was more important for me to be right than for me to feel good.

Brian’s expressions when I would rip myself to shreds eventually moved from sympathy to frustration.

“I love your body,” Brian would say, carefully. “Because Kristin lives in your body.”

Even though I was and am loved, I still didn’t feel that way — because in my mind, I had not earned it. You won, I would try to tell myself. You still earned love while gaining weight.

Then I went to an appointment with my psychiatrist, and for the first time in years, she said nothing about my body. Nothing at all.

No, I didn’t win, I would tell myself instead. I got what I wanted, but I didn’t do the work. That’s cheating. I cheated.

And though Brian is and has always been open and confident with his preferences, they started to embarrass me. Once at a party, he mentioned that Rebel Wilson was hot to a group of people we were talking to. A short silence followed, during which I actually moonwalked away from the conversation, as though trying to physically escape before a comparison between Rebel Wilson and myself could catch up to me.

Which is ridiculous. Rebel Wilson is fabulous. Why would I not want that for myself?

And what would happen if I lost all this weight? I would wonder to myself bitterly. Would Brian still feel the same way? Was I doomed to either be conventionally attractive or someone’s fetish object?

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Brian gets tired of my self-hatred. He has limits, he’s human, and more important, he’s a human who loves me and finds me attractive, and is frustrated with having to defend those choices to me, of all people.

Once, we were at a bar, and I saw a very large woman sitting at the edge of the bar. “Do you think she’s cute?” I asked Brian, in a way that clearly indicated she was not. It was a petty, mean question, and one I already knew the answer to. But I found myself wanting to hear him say it, like I could trick Brian into openly admitting that his idea of beautiful — and that his ideas about me — were so obviously, incredibly wrong.

“Yes, I do.” Brian said, not taking the bait. “She’s very pretty. What is your problem? Do you want another beer?”

One of the things I’ve come to understand is that, when you’re single, hating your body is more or less a victimless crime, if you don’t count yourself. When you get into a relationship, however, it becomes a constant referendum on the tastes and judgment of the person who loves you.

The other problem was that, the more that I poke at myself, the more Brian pokes at himself as well. While he is objectively not a very big person, he’s succumed a little bit to the 10 to 15 pounds everyone gains when they are happy and in love. But one morning, I saw him looking at himself in the mirror, grabbing the small pudge from his stomach, and agonizing about how much he felt it made him into a terrible person.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. Because it so obviously was — he was trying to grab handfuls of his tummy for emphasis, but was struggling to even get one hand full.

“No, it isn’t,” he shot back, in that angry, desperate tone of voice I have so often used. “I am just a fat person, now.”

No, you’re not, I thought, and I wondered how many times Brian had felt like this: frustrated, annoyed, and helpless as he watched me tear down a thing he loved.

The thing that I have struggled the most with understanding is that, just like I am not just a fat girl, Brian is not just someone who likes fat girls. He is someone who has made it through this life, one that is inundated with social mores about what is OK and not OK in terms of physical attraction, and he is unmoved by any of it. How he handles this attraction is actually one of the most attractive things about him. He knows that his is not a popular opinion, and wastes no time caring about that fact.

I wish I could say that I am 100% OK with myself. I still do the thing where, when people compliment pictures of myself that I hate, I will wonder just how bad I look in all the other photos they aren’t complimenting.

But I do little things. When a couple of co-workers and I published this post about “one size fits all” clothing last December, I was terrified at the types of things people would say about my body. But when people were so overwhelmingly positive toward me, it reminded me of how important it is not to be your own biggest censor. I let myself believe the nice things people said.

Two years ago, I didn’t even realize they made bikinis in a size 18 — turns out that they do. Lots of cute ones. And this year, I intend to buy one, and wear it to the beach. And I will enjoy that no one will be able to complain to me about my belly fat (without looking like a crazy person). I will enjoy how excited that makes Brian, to see me happy in my own skin. I will let him enjoy the thing he loves without tearing it down. But more importantly, I will work to earn love from me, who is the person who will always play the hardest to get. I will flirt as hard as I can, and I will win myself back.

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/kristinchirico/my-boyfriend-loves-fat-women

#fat #fat women #men who love fat women #relationships

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