#when did life get too stressful to wholeheartedly commit to reading?

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Be Nice

Read on Ao3

Warnings: bullying, teasing, even though they don't mean it.

Pairings: merthur

Word Count: 6181

It shouldn't be a surprise, really, if the knights think punching each other in the arm is a viable and efficient way of cheering each other up, that they also think insulting each other is a perfectly good way to show affection. Insults are compliments, threats are reassurances, and actual bodily harm is considered good manners or at the very least the mark of genuine companionship. Basically, take everything Merlin's ever been taught about how you actually treat the people you care about and flip it on its head, because stars know that if any one of these men actually behave as though being nice won't incinerate them, the world will actually end.

Alright, maybe he's being a bit harsh.

But he's had a long few days saving the entirety of Camelot all by his-own-bloody-self, he's entitled to throw a bit of a fit when he gets shoved too harshly into the side of the stable under the guise of 'friendly greetings.' And it's not like the knights are doing it on purpose—except when they are, which they absolutely do, they have days where it seems like they all passed around a note that says today's one of those days, boys, make Merlin's life a living hell for no reason other than our enjoyment! He swears he's going to invent some kind of spell that lets him know when those days are so he can sit himself in Gaius's chambers and just stay there for all eternity. Or at least until they shake themselves out of it.

And fine, it's not as though he's never known softer kindness from them. Percival shoves and claps and punches, but he's also helped Merlin with the heavier chores and—not that Merlin would ever admit this—carried him when he's overexerted himself to somewhere safer. Elyan is an older brother, and older bother if he commiserates with Gwen, but he's not all bad when he's being protective or complimentary. Gwaine is…Gwaine, which means he commits himself wholeheartedly to whatever he's doing, be that teasing Merlin until his face is about to explode or making sure he's calming down when something really bad happens. Lancelot—listen, the main problem with Lancelot is that he keeps making this sly little face that's all you could stop us, Merlin, you could, but will you? As if he doesn't know damn well that it would go very badly if he actually did do anything. Leon is secretly a menace because he sees everything. And Arthur…

Well. Arthur's Arthur.

Look, the point is that Merlin knows he's being dramatic sometimes, really, he's self-aware enough to admit it, but sometimes…

Sometimes it feels like he's not being dramatic enough.

It's definitely one of those days. One of those days where he walks down to the courtyard with Arthur and all the knights are grinning up at them and he knows, he just knows that today he's going to be teased and pushed around and have pranks and jokes played on him every chance they get. Admittedly, with the amount of courtly stress the kingdom has been under, it's the same reason why they're going on this hunt in the first place; to give them all a break from the pressures of being in the citadel, to let them actually have a chance to relax without worrying about courtesy or diplomacy or any of that nonsense. It makes sense, Merlin's oddly grateful for the chance they have…

He just wishes he weren't about to be the chew toy for it, you see?

It starts almost as soon as they leave the walls of the city behind.

"Merlin," Gwaine calls and Merlin's shoulders immediately tense, "when's the last time you actually caught something on one of these?"

No. No, absolutely not. I am not engaging. "The last hunt we went on was three months ago."

"That's not what he asked," Percival says—oh, he's also starting early, "he asked when you caught something."

"Does a cold count?" Elyan asks and the knights start laughing. Merlin just adjusts his reins and his horse nickers.

"Come on," Gwaine cajoles when the first wave of laughter dies down, "do you want us to show you how it's done?"

"I've tried teaching him since he first arrived," Arthur calls out, "he's utterly useless at it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was forgetting everything on purpose."

"Well, with how much he has to remember to keep Princess satisfied, then—" Gwaine grins— "maybe it's a good thing he doesn't know how to hunt."

What does that even mean?

"Don't worry, Merlin," Elyan says with false sympathy as he brings his horse alongside, "we didn't bring you out here because you're good at hunting."

"That's right," Percival agrees, "best thing you can use on a fine hunt is a fine flush hound."

Despite all his instincts that tell him not to feed whatever mood they're in, his curiosity takes over. "What's a flush hound?"

He hears Arthur groan and Elyan snorts, and oddly enough, it's Leon who clears his throat and says: "A flush hound pushes the game out into the open where the hunters can see it."

He opens his mouth to ask why exactly he would be good at that when his horse steps on a rock wrong and he nearly falls off as he crashes into a nearby tree branch, making a wild grab for the saddle as a chorus of birds take off screeching into the sky. A lurch in his stomach and a mortifying yelp accompany the guffawing and cackling of the knights as his horse struggles to right itself and he emerges from the tangle of twigs and leaves with scratches all the way down his cheeks and arms.

"See," Gwaine crows triumphantly, "where else are we going to find a natural talent like that?"

Merlin ducks his head under the guise of making sure his horse is alright, running his hand over her face and neck that he can reach. Her mane rubs coarsely against his fingertips as he tries to swallow the pang of hurt as they keep laughing. His horse nickers back a moment later and he makes himself sit upright.

"Well, then if I'm so good at it," he says, "then it's a wonder you've not had much success over the last few hunts."

"Don't be so sure of yourself," and suddenly there's the familiar condescending voice from Arthur, "just because you've got some natural talent doesn't mean you don't have room for improvement."

"After all, it's as much about making sure you're in the right place as it is about making a fool of yourself."

"And we all know you're excellent at that."

And they're laughing again. Merlin's hands tighten on the reins. Is it just him, or are their barbs a little extra pointed today? Has he done something recently? He doesn't think so; he's just been, oh, saving the kingdom, like usual. Half out of reflex, half out of desperation, he glances over at Lancelot.

Come on, just—give me something. Say something, make a joke at one of them instead.

But no, Lancelot smiles wider and motions for him to turn around. Merlin does—

And almost runs face-first into another tree branch that Arthur 'happened' to pull back to swing in Merlin's direction. He just manages to dodge it, only receiving another swipe to the cheek.

"Careful," Arthur fake-scolds, "I know you're eager to show off, Merlin, but there's a time and a place. Don't know if you remember that about hunting."

"Maybe running into all those tree branches makes it difficult," Elyan suggests, and yes, there they go, laughing again.

It's not that funny.

Luckily or unluckily for Merlin, he's not quite sure which, they actually do find some game to hunt. Or rather, they find something they think they can hunt, and they start to actually behave like men who are on a hunt, not young and rude boys out to poke fun at someone who's supposed to be their friend. Grateful for the reprieve, Merlin quietly steers his horse to the back of the group, where him and his loud, rambunctious self won't be a distraction. Leon passes him one of the spare saddlebags and the reins of his horse, silently sliding off and into a crouched stance. Merlin fastens the reins to his saddle and lets the other horse draw up alongside, patting its neck.

But perhaps he's spoken too soon about them behaving like men rather than boys, because as soon as all the other knights see Leon doing the cool thing of hunting on foot rather than on horseback, they all immediately slide off their horses and start leading them towards Merlin, who is still on a horse and very much does not have the capability to suddenly be in charge of several horses.

"What are you—"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur hisses, frowning at him until he slides off his horse too, "now stay here and stay quiet. Now's not the time for you to be flushing anything."

"Don't pout," Gwaine says when Merlin opens his mouth to protest very reasonably, thank you, he is not pouting, "I'm sure you'll get your chance soon enough."

"They're close," Elyan whispers before Merlin can ask just how, exactly, he's supposed to keep all the horses organized and follow them and keep quiet all at once, "I can hear about…three sets of footsteps."

"Deer?"

"Most likely."

"We'll have venison for dinner, then."

Merlin's heart sinks when he realizes just how long of an evening this is going to be.

He gives up fairly quickly—alright, immediately on staying with them. Instead, he and the horses make a very suitable area for themselves in one of the larger clearings. He loosens their saddles and takes the bits from their mouths so they can have a bite to eat. He makes sure to check his horse's hoof; that rock must've hurt quite a bit, better to make sure it isn't stuck in there, after all. The leaves rustle cheerily overhead as a gust of wind blows through. The scent of fresh, clean water comes with it—there must be a river of some sorts nearby. That might be nice for them, some fresh water to drink. Best not stray too far from here, though, not when who knows where the 'hunters' are eventually going to end up.

He sits down near one of the tree trunks and is just on the verge of making himself comfortable when all of a sudden, something crashes out of the brush to his right and he has just enough time to scramble to his feet before the deer falls down dead in front of him.

"Would you look at that," comes Percival's voice from very far away, "it's almost like he knew where it would run."

Merlin can't tear his eyes away from the deer on the ground, not until one of the horses snuffles and nudges his arm. Then he lifts one hand to blindly pat its face and turns to look at the knights who spill triumphantly into the clearing.

"Wonder of wonders," Arthur says, coming up to clap him on the shoulder, "maybe you aren't completely useless after all."

The words lodge in some soft part of Merlin's chest and he clenches his jaw. "You didn't have to kill it."

"It's a hunt, Merlin," Arthur says slowly, as though he's talking to a child, "that's what a hunt is for."

"It wasn't hurting anyone."

"It's a deer," he scoffs, "it's not going to do much of anything except run into things."

"Not true," Gwaine says from where he's already carving the poor thing, "it'll fill our bellies tonight and that is a worthy cause if I've ever heard one."

"You'd consider anything a worthy cause if it got you bread and wine," Lancelot points out and they all start laughing again. The horse snuffles his hand again and he turns away, patting its nose and sparing one more thought for the deer, who at the very least was put out of its misery quickly.

If he thought it would be over when they started to camp for the night, he was terribly and miserably wrong.

First he wasn't moving fast enough. Then he was doing it wrong. Then he wasn't doing enough. Then there were things he kept forgetting. Then they noticed he wasn't talking very much and he was too soft-hearted, mourning for a stupid deer. Arthur's favorite insult of girl's petticoat made an appearance, followed by Gwaine's infamous innuendoes of—oh, who bloody cares, it's not like he's paying much attention at this point.

Maybe it's the fact that they've all not let off steam for too long. Maybe Merlin's been too busy saving Camelot and his tolerance of them has worn low. Maybe they're all in an especially cruel mood today and they don't realize it. Maybe Merlin's just worn himself a little too ragged and this thing that's supposed to be their chance to all relax just isn't how Merlin would choose to do that at all.

Whatever the reason, the armor that Merlin thought he had against the knights has abandoned him. Every word, every look, every laugh hits him like an arrow or a punch, lodging deep in his flesh and hurting. It doesn't matter where he goes, what he does, even when he gives into his cowardly instincts—Arthur's already called him a coward at least half a dozen times in the last ten minutes, he might as well give in and be a coward—and hides behind one of the horses, he still can't escape from it. His body truly starts to ache, starts to flush and burn and he's too hot and he's too cold and he's angry, so angry, because they're hurting him and they don't care, they just don't care.

There comes a point where enough is enough.

"Say, Merlin—" Percival tugs his sleeve a little too hard and Merlin has to steady himself before he falls over— "whoa! Easy!"

"It's a wonder we didn't mistake you for the deer," Elyan jokes, "you're wobbling around like you don't know what your legs are for."

He didn't mean it like this, but Merlin's mind fills with smoke and the sound of blades clashing over a rising chant of burn the sorcerer and he flinches. Hard.

"Be nice to him," Lancelot scolds, and Merlin's heart leaps with hope— "you know fawns are the most skittish of all."

His hands tighten until his knuckles turn white and he sets his jaw, determined to put all the bowls down and sit and actually rest for once. He manages to make it halfway across the campsite and almost to the fire to bend down and—

"Maybe you should train with us a bit more," Percival suggests, "then you could keep up more often."

Merlin doesn't even need to turn around to know that Arthur's sitting up with a fiendish grin on his face.

"Oh, he hasn't told you? I'm surprised, I would've thought they would have by now."

"Told me what?"

Not a damn thing, you prat, now shut the hell up.

"Merlin used to be Princess's training dummy," Gwaine says helpfully, and how the hell does he know about it and he hasn't told Percival? "Used to wear the padding, the helmet, everything but the straw. Bet that suited you better than the armor did, ey, Merlin?"

Merlin doesn't say anything.

"I'd have preferred a proper training dummy," Arthur snorts, and there comes the rustling of leaves as he must lean back, "at least it wouldn't have flinched every time I so much as raised my sword."

I was brand new to Camelot. I'd come to see one of my kind get executed on my first day. You had tried to kill me already and I had saved your life. You swung swords at me and I didn't know what to do.

"But hand to hand, surely," Percival says, "that must have been better?"

"Oh, no, I know this one," Elyan says, and how does he—Gwen. Gwen must have told him— "what was it, three times in as many minutes that he ended up face-first into a cowpie?"

"I can't take credit for all of them—"

"But you will."

"No, no, some credit must go to Merlin for being the clumsiest sod I've ever laid eyes on."

He flinches again and the bowls clatter to the ground.

"See?"

That does it.

Without bothering to pick up the pot, he stoops down and picks up the bowls, fumbling around to free his horse from its tether and walking off. The knights' laughter rings in the trees behind him as he ventures further and further away from the light of the campfire. The wind stings the open cuts on his face and arms. His horse brushes against him. He keeps going, not caring that the shadows start to gather around his feet as they pick their way toward the river.

He remembers those first days. Those days where it felt like Arthur was always on the verge of having him arrested, or having him thrown out for no reason, or something. Where every time he ventured outside it felt like it was punishment for something he'd done, when swords and maces and spears would be flung at him without regard for the fact that he was a living, breathing person with feelings and that he would be hurt, and then he'd go stumbling off to Gaius still hearing the clangs and wobbling from the impact and then Gaius would laugh at him too. Why was everyone always laughing at him?

They laughed at him when Arthur decided that he needed to be trained 'for his own good' too. Never mind that he could do far more impressive things and far more effective things than swing a bloody sword, no, Arthur dressed him up in that stupid bloody armor and had all the knights and squires have a go at him. He'd been pushed to the ground, hit, punched, kicked, pinned, humiliated and every time there was Arthur, either looking incredibly disappointed or trying and failing to hide a smirk. Then he'd tell him to get up so they could go again.

They reach the river.

His horse nickers gently, pulling the lead through Merlin's hands to stretch its neck down for a long drink. Merlin looks at the bowls piled haphazardly in his other hand and slowly sets them down on a nearby rock before he sinks to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and setting his chin atop them to watch the water. Some of the last of the sunlight still sparkles off its ripples as it flows downstream.

See? This, this, this is all he wanted. He wanted to go and be in the woods and just breathe. Just watch the water, listen to the sound of the breeze, not to murder some animal that wasn't doing anything and make a loud ruckus and all of that. He didn't want to be surrounded by insults and laughter, he just—he just—

Oh, Merlin realizes faintly as the horse turns to bump its damp nose against his hand, I'm crying.

Of course, as soon as he realizes that, he starts to sniffle in earnest, his nose quickly making a mess of his trousers as his horse snuffles at his hand. He shuffles a little closer, leaning against its side, as it goes back to drinking. He closes his eyes and turns his face into the warmth. He ignores the slight sting against the still-open cuts.

Why had they been so cruel today? Was he—he wasn't that useless and clumsy, was he? He never tries to be, he just—it just happens sometimes, it's not as though he can keep complete control over himself all the time, not when he has to work so hard to constantly keep his magic in and hidden and unseen and it's hard, it's just hard sometimes and it's not fair. It's not fair that they get to prance around and make nuisances of themselves and when he doesn't do anything, they insult him for it. It's not fair that they get to poke fun at him all the time for things that he has no control over. It's not fair that they get to pick the things to do and he just has to go along with it.

And it's especially not fair that they don't notice how much they really, actually hurt him.

Perhaps that's the worst part of all of this, he decides as he sniffles again, it's that he doesn't think they realize how hurtful some of the things they say actually are. He doesn't have the same sort of hurt-people's-feelings-and-get-away-with-it that they do, he doesn't have this I'm-going-to-be-mean-on-purpose instinct. He doesn't have the ability that they all have to trade blows and take it and laugh it off. He spits back at them because he can't do anything else sometimes, and then he's beaten down again. He knows he's not a knight, he knows he's just a servant but they don't—do they have to make him feel like he's less when there's no one else around too?

It hurts. Everything hurts.

Maybe he should just stay here. Here, by the river, where the sunset was soft and golden and the horse was firm and solid and the air smelled slightly sweet, like flowers that had just past their prime. No one would be mean to him here, no one would shame him for being upset, he could cry and it would be alright if he did that. He's been accused of being far more than just clumsy and useless today, after all, he might as well indulge the parts of him they would gladly spear and roast over the campfire.

He flinches at his own metaphor, startling the horse slightly until it rubs its nose against his hand again. He fumbles to pat it carefully in silent apology and it lets out a worried noise, nosing at his head too. He sniffles and lets it nibble his hair, its breath warming the top of his head until it grows bored and goes to drink again. He keeps his hand on its leg, stroking the strong muscle with his fingers. Out of habit, he finds himself picking out little bits of twig and brush, cleaning the worst of the detritus away with quick little motions as the horse shifts its weight back and forth. He finds a slightly rough patch and scruffs at it with his fingernails until the horse's coat is smooth again. It snorts in thanks.

See, he thinks again, what's so bad about this? Why is it so bad to be kind in an uncomplicated way? Why can't you just be kind for the sake of being kind, without having to disguise it?

Should he have swatted the horse and mocked it for its matted coat? Should he have shoved it this way and that in lieu of a proper grooming? Should he have laughed at it when it stumbled and hurt its leg on a rock it couldn't have seen before it was already too late? What purpose did any of that serve? Why would he want to make it seem like he would only hurt the horse when all he wanted to do was be kind?

With a courage he does not feel, he closes his eyes and wraps his arms back around himself, trying to find the scared, hurt horse in his own chest and reach out to it too.

Why are you being unkind to me, that part of him sniffles, why are you hurting me? What did I do to deserve being hurt by you? Why are you taking pleasure in hurting me?

I don't know, says another part, I don't know.

Make it stop. I don't like this, it hurts. You're hurting me. Please, make it stop.

A rock clatters behind him.

In an instant, he whirls around, trying to see what managed to sneak up on him, but in his haste he overbalances and is about to fall into the river—

A hand grabs the front of his tunic, catching him before he drenches himself. Panting, Merlin stares up at Leon, who looks just as surprised as he, his hand still fisted in the thin material of Merlin's front. He raises his other hand, palm open in a signal of sincerity, before he slowly reaches forward and tugs Merlin back to safety.

"Are you alright?"

The fear of falling into the river dwindles, swiftly replaced by a growing anger at being caught off guard again, at almost falling in and needing to be saved, and at himself for not noticing Leon's approach. He twists Leon's hand none-too-gently out of his tunic, setting his jaw and deliberately turning away. "Thanks."

Leon gives a non-committal hum. For a moment, Merlin thinks he's going to leave, or at the very least, do whatever it was that he was going to do when he came here that wasn't cause-and-prevent-Merlin-falling-in-river, but then the still-dirty bowls are being moved further away and Leon is crouching next to him on the bank of the river. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees him take something from a pouch on his belt, remove his gloves and dip something in the river.

When callused hands reach for him, he contemplates pulling away, saying no, even snapping at them—if they're going to insist he's a hound, he'll damn well act like one—but before he can decide what to do, the dry warmth of Leon's hand is turning his chin and then something soft and damp is dabbing over the cuts on his face. With the soft and steady patience that only he has, Leon tends to the open wounds without saying a word, his free hand gentle on Merlin's chin and shoulders to hold him in the right place to reach all of the right places without straining either of them. He keeps his eyes on his hands as he works, the smallest wrinkle between his brows the only indicator that something's upsetting him. Is he upset? Why is he here? Merlin hasn't been gone that long, has he?

The cloth rubs too harshly against one of the cuts and Merlin flinches, a quiet whimper emerging into the still air. Immediately he wants to claw it back into his throat, but Leon doesn't smirk, doesn't tease, doesn't do any of that. Instead he takes the cloth away and leans closer, blowing cool air over the raw and reddened skin until the ache is soothed. The tenderness of the gesture causes tears to spring to the corner of his eyes and to his absolute horror, he sniffles.

Leon pulls the cloth away but his other hand remains, thumb carefully stroking the unblemished skin of Merlin's right cheek. He lays the cloth carefully over one of his gloves before he looks back and uses his other hand to ruffle Merlin's hair just above his ear.

"I'm sorry," he says gently, "I should have realized."

A lump appears in his throat and he does his best to glare. Leon takes it, because he's a stupid kind bastard sometimes and Merlin is weak, and when Leon opens his arms and says come here in the softest, gentlest voice in the world, Merlin doesn't bother to fight it and buries his stupid sniffling nose into the crook of Leon's neck and lets the knight wrap him up in a cuddle, his stupid cape wrapped around him too like a blanket.

"There, now," Leon murmurs, one hand still scratching lightly at his scalp, "there you are…forgive me, Merlin, I didn't realize they were hurting you so much. That we were hurting you so much."

"Why are you so mean to me," he mumbles, half into, half over Leon's shoulder, not caring that he sounds like a child, "why are you always so mean?"

"I don't know," the knight confesses and Merlin just huddles further into his hold. "I'm sorry."

"It hurts, you know, when you all say those things. And when you hit me. And throw things at me."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you so mean," he sobs, making a fist and weakly hitting Leon's shoulder, "why— why?"

Leon just tightens his grip, turning to bury his own nose in Merlin's hair, and Merlin sobs again. He's being unfair, he knows; Leon isn't the only one to blame in this situation, and in fact, might be the least to blame, but Leon is the only one here and Merlin is angry, angry, so angry.

As if he can hear it, Leon shifts, putting his mouth to Merlin's ear. "Go on, Merlin, it's alright."

"But I don't want to," he grits out, "I don't want to hurt you. I know what that's like, it hurts, it doesn't feel good, I just—you just—I just want it to stop!"

"It'll stop," Leon says immediately, "it's over, now, Merlin, I swear to you. No more of this, I swear."

"It hurts, L-Leon, it—it really hurts."

"Shh, shh, I know, Merlin…hush, now, please, try and breath a bit slower." The knight's chest expands and contracts slowly, exaggerated breaths filling the small clearing. "There…in…and out…in…and out…that's it, shh, just like that."

Slowly, Merlin manages to calm the worst of his anger and tears, the whole mess unspooling as Leon keeps rubbing his back, soft words in his ears. He buries his nose in his neck again. This part, this part of the knights he's never taken for granted, this tenderness that he's only able to get when he's visibly upset. When he manages to voice that thought, Leon goes still for a moment, before a quiet and terrible sigh leaves his lips.

"I have failed, then," he says lowly, "more terribly than I could ever have feared, if you do not know how deeply I care for you."

"W-what?"

Leon pulls back, then, just enough for Merlin to see his face. "You are a dear friend of mine, Merlin, and it is an honor to serve with you. Ever since the day you arrived and saved the Prince's life—hush, shh, none of that, now," he soothes when Merlin panics, "your secret is safe with me, I swear upon my honor and my life. I mean every word that I say, Merlin, you are one of the best men I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and more than that, you are a dear friend. If I have not made that clear to you, that is no one's fault but my own."

"You'll make me cry," Merlin accuses, even though he's already crying.

Leon smiles, but it's a kind smile. "Come, then, shed your tears. I will tend to you."

Well, with an invitation like that, how can Merlin say no?

When he's cried himself out—and made a mess of Leon's cloak, which the man doesn't even let him apologize for—Leon ruffles his hair and takes off his cloak, wrapping it over his shoulders and cleaning the bowls while the horse snuffles at Merlin's shoulders. The cry exhausted the part of him that could protest, and so he watches in the quiet dusk as Leon finishes the last bowl and stands, offering a hand.

"They'll worry," he says softly when Merlin hesitates, "and then they'll all come looking for us together."

He doesn't want that. But neither does he want to lose this, whatever this is, whatever he's found with Leon on the banks of the river. As if he'd spoken the thought out loud, Leon cups his elbow through the cloak, thumb rubbing back and forth until Merlin nods and gets to his feet, going to give Leon his cloak back.

"Keep it, if you want it."

"They'll laugh at me."

"They won't," he says with remarkable confidence, only to acquiesce when Merlin raises a doubtful eyebrow, taking it back. "If you decide you want it again, it's yours."

Part of him wants to take him up on the offer as soon as they start to hear the voices from camp again, to hide underneath it and not have to show his face until next morning, but the horse calls out to its friends and the voices hush. He stops, lingering just out of sight, before Leon rests a hand on his back and silently encourages him forwards. He emerges from the tree line, already bracing himself for whatever comes flying at him, when—

"Oh, sweetheart, what's happened?"

That…that can't be Arthur. That soft voice and worried tone can't be the same man who just delighted in dictating Merlin's humiliation not three hours earlier, it can't be.

"Merlin," the voice says again, and it certainly looks like Arthur scrambling up and over to him, reaching out to cup his face, "oh, you poor thing, look how hurt you are…is this from that tree?"

Merlin nods dumbly and Arthur sweeps his thumb across his cheek. "You've been crying, does it hurt very badly?"

"No."

"You don't have to lie," he chides, but it's gentle, why is it gentle? "You can tell me."

"We've got extra salve," Elyan says, already going for one of the saddlebags, "here, come over by the fire."

"There's another portion still here," Percival adds, "if you're still hungry."

"Give him a moment," Lancelot says, standing too, "he looks a bit overwhelmed."

"Wh-what—" Merlin staggers and Leon and Arthur both surge to catch him— "what's happening?"

"Come sit," Gwaine says, already clearing a spot and shuffling a bedroll close to the fire, "you look like you're about to fall over. Leon can handle the horse and the dishes."

Sure enough, Arthur's hands take Leon's place as he guides Merlin carefully over to the bedroll, sitting him down and immediately taking a position at his elbow. He strokes his thumb over Merlin's jaw as he examines the scratches, before looking back up at him properly.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

Merlin still has whiplash from the difference between the knight before he left and the knights now, thank you very much. He swallows around the lump in his throat and mumbles something about being mean and insulting and whatever they're doing now, and Arthur's face crumbles.

"Oh, sweetheart, you know we don't mean it, don't you?"

"We never do," Lancelot says immediately, "it's only supposed to be fun."

"How is being mean to each other fun?"

"Merlin's right," Gwaine says before anyone can try and explain, "it's only fun if everyone's in on it. And Merlin wasn't in on it, that means we stop."

"What happened," Merlin blurts out, "when I left, you were all more than happy to laugh at me being humiliated or otherwise, and now you're all being nice and calling me sweetheart, what happened?"

The campsite grows quiet. He looks around. None of them seem willing to meet his eyes, save for Leon, who just gives him a reassuring nod. He's about to open his mouth and ask again when Arthur speaks.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm so sorry. I didn't—I…I never mean it. I never mean it."

Merlin swallows. "Then why do you do it?"

Arthur shrugs helplessly. "It's…it's what they all do. What we all do."

The knights make vague noises of agreement but Arthur reaches out for him again.

"But we'll stop now. I promise," he says when Merlin looks at him doubtfully, "we'll—we'll put a stop to it. At least between us, and definitely with you. You're Merlin, we never want to hurt you."

"You promise?"

"Yes." Something that could be mischief flickers across his expression and he leans closer. "And I'm the only one who gets to call you sweetheart."

"What happened to being nice?" Merlin yelps as he starts blushing furiously.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't know it would make you do that."

Merlin closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. When he opens them again, he sees Arthur staring at him like a worried puppy and he sighs. "You don't…you don't have to stop everything. Just—will you stop if I tell you to?"

"Yes," he says immediately, and the rest of them join in, "of course, the moment you say."

"Thanks." Arthur's hand passes over his shoulders and he grins. "Besides, you were the one who couldn't speak after the barmaid smiled at you."

"Merlin!"

"Wait, Princess did what?"

"You've been holding out on us, Merlin, tell us!"

"Oi! Show some respect for your King!"

"Oh, is that what the barmaids are calling it these days?"

Merlin laughs as Arthur hucks a spoon at Gwaine and Leon comes to sit next to him, offering a warm side to lean against. Perhaps they really are capable of acting nice after all.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #sir leon #sir leon the long suffering #dragonbabbles #fic

[thefairyletters]

aaaAAAHH, when you wrote abt sasusaku and reverse pining like YESSS. I couldnt exactly put it into words before reading your post, but I wholeheartedly agree. it would pose a more interesting narrative for the development of their relationship if the roles were reversed and entertaining to read sasuke going out of his comfort zone

Oh yes, Sasuke trying and fighting to get back what he had initially denied is everything that characterizes a canonically healthy SS romance.

Let's also look back to Sasuke getting welcomed back into Konoha. Now, personally I find it strange that people, especially civilians and several shinobi who didn't know Sasuke even existed within village or just knew him in the passing, didn't react to his presence back in the village. He is one of the most notorious S-class missing nins, is he not? Someone who helped instigating the war in the first place, even though he did help in ending it too? Someone who left behind his village before he even knew what his village actually did to his clan?

He is one of the luckiest characters with one of the most tragic backstories on his back.

Inspite of his long list of crimes, Sasuke was allowed to get away unscathed, something that would have gotten any other person slaughtered without a second thought. Alright, so village values his bloodline and is willing to turn blind eye to every atrocities he's committed against all five villages and whatnot. Understandable, because it's politics.

What's not understandable is the extent of sacrifice Team 7 makes for Sasuke. Particularly, Sakura who was turned into some kind of homecoming gift to Sasuke. He came, poked her forehead (voluntarily!) and left (again!), it doesn't help this pair that the forehead poke doesn't have a very positive intonation to begin with. That means, he also got the girl (broodmare) in the end; the same girl he knocked out and left behind alone on a cold bench in the middle of the night.

I wouldn't deny that Sasuke may have always harboured special feelings for Sakura, but Sakura hardly ever saw him after he left and when she did, it's always an attempt on her life by him. It should be enough to make her question if her Sasuke will ever be back.

I can understand that she never stopped loving him because she fell in love with the boy who was her teammate, not the one who made attempts on her life, so she may have always kept loving him. But after everything – the war, and their angsty moments – she more or less should have just settled with focusing on bringing him back and not on her feelings for him.

If it wasn't for Kishimoto, she would have done just that – not caring for Sasuke's feelings for her and only wishing him to return home to them, instead of getting reduced to blushing mess everytime Sasuke is in her presence. Like life had always been so peaceful and pink. Like Sakura and Naruto hadn't survived a war which probably killed many people and left many more without family. Like Sakura didn't know firsthand how death can affect people. Like Sasuke almost hadn't tried to get them all killed.

Reverse pining should have been important in SS because Sasuke easily leaves everything behind and he gets everything back just as easily. There's no effort from his side – he wants to revive his clan and he gets a willing broodmare who happens to be the same girl he had left behind, he wants his Konoha citizenship back which he recieves handily and then proceeds to leave the village the next day, with only "until next time".

I personally would have preferred Sakura to keep her feelings locked behind a polite smile and only present herself in a very cordial manner to Sasuke. I would have preferred her avoiding Sasuke, if only because she doesn't know where she stands with him and is traumatised by his attempts on her life. This, if he really loved her and wanted to let her in, would have confused him, then worried him and then finally forced him to work his way to build his relationship with Sakura, starting with a tentative friendship. Even a word between them on how they should start over would have done wonders on SS relationship.

I can't stress enough how much I hate Naruto for everything that Kishimoto/SP messed up spectacularly. Sasuke and Sakura are duo embodiments of hypocrisy. In their attempts to make Sasuke look cool and attract sympathy towards his character, Sasuke ended up looking really foolish and withdrawn to the point that he could pass for a toy broken beyond repair.

I would even approve the idea of Sakura accepting Sasuke's hand in marriage only because it is expected of her. After years of pining for Sasuke and then pretend-pining (because change will raise questions), it will be well within her character to forgo her personal feelings and do what everyone expected of her. Featuring Sakura being unconditional in giving him a home, though with sad eyes and warm company, and Sasuke understanding her sadness, acknowledging how kind she was to him even after everything he had her go through, and then trying to win her love by reciprocating the love he had always denied her. That way, it would become a story of love in an arranged marriage. This arrangement would go well in Boruto considering the gratitude that Sasuke shows Sakura from time to time.

The whole idea of reverse pining would have put Sasuke's insights of their relationship into perspective and also given us an idea about his mindset during the times that involved him trying killing her. I personally think between Sasuke and Sakura, Sasuke is the more emotional person. Uchihas are particularly passionate and volatile, but all under the wraps. Sakura is expressive and wears her emotions on her sleeves but is considerably calmer of the two where it counts. Comic relief don't count.

Shippuden either shouldn't have ended without another season expanding upon the reunion of Team 7, or it shouldn't have hinted on any pairings – least of all, SS, which is easily the most complex pair I've come across.

SS is one ship that deserved its own movie than any other. period

Am I clear?

#sasusaku #why kishi you do this to us #sasusaku had so much potential #and you people ask us why we ship narusaku #sasusaku is so frustrating #ss is beautiful but only if it is written right #i was once a big SS shipper #until it went downhill for ss #sakura haruno #i'm still mad sasuke was recieved well into the village after a war which was partly his doing #i liked sasuke best when he was genin and only a stupid 12 years old #i wasn't sure what you wanted to hear from me so I just rambled on about ss in general

[jewelthomasson]

Art Reading Response:

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⭐️Summary of Emerge pages:

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🔸Ideas~pages 56-66:

In this section of emerge, Perini discusses the topic of ideas. Ideas are what change the world he states, which is definitely true!(56). Ideas come from everything and anything at anytime (57). But most of our ideas come from us being in a alpha state (57). A state where someone can be in a place of relaxation and peaceful wakefulness (57). Then Perini talked about through what we generate our ideas, he stated that it is from ideation (58). He goes to tell how thinking in the alpha state isn’t the only way to come up with ideas; someone needs to purposefully set time aside to think (58). And through this we learned that coming up with these ideas can only happen when we start our endeavors (58). Meaning procrastination will get us NO WHERE. And through coming up with ideas by actively starting projects we need to let whatever we were working on to sit so that our brain can take a break (59). This will help generate new ideas as the worker has to bring their mind to a refocus to start back up on the project.

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🤔My Thoughts:

I think that this was very interesting to see that there is a specific name of where our ideas come from. The hardest part for me in this chapter was when Perini tells that we have to start on our projects in order to get ideas flowing. This is often so very hard sometimes because I put whatever off; and in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “I’ll have some good idea later.” And guess what?! Often I —don’t. This can be so very difficult and stressful at times. But as hard as it is I know I have to start my projects at some point. So, now I’m going to try to go into these projects wholeheartedly with the mindset that I can think of anything because I am not procrastinating and I truly want those good ideas.

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🔸Master~pages 81-87:

In the master section of the emerge book Perini helps the reader understand how to master certain goals people have. He first states how nothing can come of anything if you don’t work (78). He then talks about how dreams are good, they help spark something in us, but if they aren’t acted upon then nothing comes from them (78). He states that mastery comes from experience; and as we master different things in life more doors will open (81). Overall, there are 3 stages of talent development (84). “#1 developing and interest in a field or domain” (84). “#2 honing technical skills in your field of domain” (84). And #3 mastery and artistry in your field or domain (84). And then Perini states how we can achieve all those things. He states that if we put in 10,000 hours of work with purpose, in whatever we want to succeed at, then we will become the master of that (84).

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🤔My thoughts:

The concept of mastery is hard for me to wrap my brain around. Sure I want to be really good at certain things but, to me I rather be good at a lot of little things. Rather than be a master at maybe one thing. Does that just sound too lazy? I don’t know, but being a master at something sounds like way to much work. Like almost unappealing. I feel like if I committed to something to master it then I could potentially lose the love to do it. Maybe I’m just thinking this way because I haven’t truly tried to master something. But overall, right now it just seems kinda intimidating...😬

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🔸Messiness~pages 100-107:

Overall, this chapter about messiness just goes to show that messiness can bring great break throughs for creatives. Perini states how fear paralyzes us (99). We come from a world where if you don’t win you fail or lose. But this isn’t the case for creatives. “Creatives view failure as a win-learn” (99). This can help the creative process because then one can be more open and not scared to fail. He states how if you are not willing to fail then how can you create anything new?(102). This is so true because artists are always revising and making things better by learning from mistakes. So with that—art is messy. Life can be—messy. But that’s not a bad thing.

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🤔My thoughts:

I personally love this section. I love learning from my mistakes! That is how I know I am actually growing and learning. With that, I completely related with Perini when he talked about how art is messy. For me, personally, my first draft to anything creative is always super rough. Sometimes it won’t even look like the picture/image I was going for, but it’s a the start that helps me create my final product. Without that first messy step my whole process for the whole piece would be thrown off. So I need my messy failures. It truly helps me create my greatest works.

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🔸Habit~pages 108-116:

This section talked about how to form effective habits. Perini states how we need to make habits making habits (109). Habits are good for our life and minds. Through this chapter Perini walks the reader through 7 steps to creating good habits. #1 create triggers. Triggers help us to take the thinking out of performing takes because they are an automatic occurrence (111). # 2 create rewards. By rewarding ourselves habits become more fun and enjoyable to do—which makes us want to use that habit again (112). #3 visualize. With those first two in mind we need to be able to visualize ourselves actually doing the habit so we know that it’s a realistic habit to strive towards (112). #4 add a village member. This simply means that it can be easier to make a habit effective if someone can keep you accountable (112). #5 repetition. By using repetition the habit can truly be formed because your telling your body to not stop and keep moving forward (113). #6 believe. Honestly, if you don’t have this one it all kinda goes out the window because if you don’t believe in yourself then why go to the trouble to make a habit that won’t be effective? And the last one, #7 renew the mind. This one holds everything together because as we renew our mind all of the others fall into place creating a healthy habit.

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🤔My thoughts:

For me this was very helpful because often I find myself needing to create better habits just to make my life easier. The step that’s always really hard for me is the repetition one. Sometimes it can be very hard for me to stay motivated to do something I believe is best for me. Sometimes I don’t have to do much to be committed to a healthy habit but other times it seems like the hardest thing ever is to make my bed. Like why? It’s so easy. But that lack of motivation can seem to override it all. I think this is partly because I generally just skip the reward aspect. I think I can just be committed because if I think I can. But in reality I need those rewards to at least get me started. Wow this chapter just made me realize that. Huh 🤔 I guess I really need to read this today. Thanks Tina 😂

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⭐️Summary of the video, “The Habits of Effective Artists:”

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The video starts with the speaker sharing a personal anecdote of how he made a bet with his younger cousin. This bet completely relied on creativity. The bet was to receive 1,000 likes on his art station. And if he succeeded he would get nothing, but if he did not hold up his end then he would have to give $1,000 to his cousin. He put himself through this to get motivated because he would of had something to lose. He then gives 7 habits that the world class professionals use. #1 is daily work. We need to work on whatever we want to, to achieve a skill in everyday life. This will only be beneficial if the skill can be worked on everyday so that one can make a habit to achieve that skill they want. #2 volume not perfection. Being a perfectionist hinders because you are focused solely on specific things your doing; but if you do volumes of work then you can potentially close that gap of certain struggles. #3 steal. Our human brains are always built upon things before it. If you steal from one person then it’s plagiarism if you steal from many then it’s original because it’s a new complication of work. #4 conscious learning. Not everything is practice. Mindless learning is often bad because most mindless work doesn’t show progression. #5 rest. When removed from the art work you can have new ideas and see that things from new vantage points. #6 get feedback. Artists seek feedback from anyone. And this is often shown as one of the most crucial/important parts that can strengthen the art work. By having people express what ever they are feeling no matter how harsh the advice can be, receiving that feedback can help make the art great. #7 create what you love. By creating what you are personally interested and can make the work thrive in the best way. Overall, you’ll make better work because you have drive to complete what ever you want.

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🤔What I thought about the video, “The Habits of Effective Artists:”

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I found this video very insightful for how to truly become successful as an artist. I now have better knowledge of how I can strengthen my skills as an artist. For me it’s odd, I feel like I don’t normally follow along with any of these seven things listed. Which tells me that I need to start creating better habits to help my overall creative process. I’m glad he made this video because if I hadn’t of watched this I probably wouldn’t have known I needed to change. This video has really opened my eyes to see how being a good artist is about process. Up until now, sure I knew that, but for the most part I thought that people are just born with it. But now I realize that to achieve anything creative you need to cultivate good habits so that overall you can flourish in the art realm.

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📸Image above:

#thecreativechristian #readingresponsepost #week10

[erin-gilberts]

Bc It’s such a good post will you answer all the cafe asks?

Yessss totally! 

Vanilla Chai Latte : Are you in love?

Yes, wholeheartedly and unapologetically, I am. 

My girlfriend and I have only been together for two months, but it’s one of those things where when you know, you know. I’ve been in relationships lasting upwards of a year where I still didn’t know at the end of them whether or not I was in love. Early on in the year, I was actually even having conversations with my mom about how I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love; I had no concept of what that felt like. I didn’t feel like I was feeling what I was supposed to be in relationships. I wondered if I was aromantic and if I wasn’t meant to experience romantic love.

With her, I’ve realized everything love IS supposed to feel like, and I’ve realized I AM capable of feeling those feelings - I just hadn’t met the right person yet. My heart was waiting for her. 

We daydream of the life we intend to build together, and it delights me to be able to wake up every day and choose her, again and again, as we run boldly and breathlessly into the future we now share. We totally u-hauled but we’re both so committed to blooming and becoming together; it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before despite having quite a bit of experience in relationships. 

Flat White : Coffee or Tea?

Coffee. It feels more substantial to me with more ways to customize it exactly how you like it. I also just have a lot of really positive memories being in coffee shops! I’m currently obsessing over Starbucks’s seasonal salted caramel mocha. 

Cappuccino : What’s your middle name?

Elizabeth! I was named after my mother and grandmother, so it’s the only part of my birth name I kept when I changed my name. 

Mocha : Dream Job?

A famous professional organizer on the same level as Marie Kondo and Dorothy Breininger! They’re my inspiration and the reason I went into this kind of work. Also, the executive director of my own LGBT-focused nonprofit (which I have been, and I intend to be again!). 

Pumpkin Spice : Dream car?

The super fancy bike I’ll use the day I ride in the AIDS LifeCycle? Haha, I don’t drive and I don’t intend to! 

Jasmine Tea : If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?

Ugh, if I could visit any place in the world right this moment, I’d choose to go back to Toronto in a heartbeat. I went there in 2015 for the Inside Out LGBT Film Festival and I LOVED that city. It was so fun and the people were so welcoming. Other than that? Moscow, because it’s where @googoogojob lives, or New York City, because I just learned Hook & Ladder 8 (the Ghostbusters firehouse) is a real place and I want to see it! 

Old English : You’re stranded on an island, who do you bring with you?

Do I have a limit?? If I have a choice, I’m definitely bringing my mom, brother, maternal grandparents, best friend, best friend’s family, cat, and girlfriend! That’s like the minimum amount of people in my life I couldn’t go without. 

Iced Chocolate : Do you have a crush on someone?

My girlfriend, who I continually redevelop a big gay crush on every day! But I feel like that’s not quite the spirit of what this question is asking, so - I also have a big gay crush on Kristen Wiig, which my girlfriend endlessly makes fun of me for! Like, to the point I named my cat Erin Gilbert. 

Caramel Frappe : Favorite video game?

It’s a tie between Minecraft and Undertale. I swing wildly between playing Minecraft daily to not playing for months, but it never gets old. The sandbox nature of the game enables infinite creativity, and the low stakes make it both accessible to me (not a gamer) and relaxing. And Undertale with its story and unique mechanics remains to this day the game to inspire the biggest emotional response in me. I’ve thought about having, “Despite everything, it’s still you” tattooed. 

Iced Lemon Tea : Favorite song/band?

My favorite songs of all time are “The Greatest” by Sia and “I Know a Place” by MUNA, both of which were written in the aftermath of the Pulse shooting and can be interpreted as the process of rediscovering queer joy at the same time your community is constantly faced with tragedy and pain. They hit hard in a beautiful way as a hate crime survivor. 

Iced Cafe Mocha : Favorite thing to do on rainy days?

I like to go out as soon as the storm passes and just walk downtown in the rain. The air always smells and feels so good; it clarifies me and I feel renewed. Walking in the light rain or before / after the storm always feels like breathing, really breathing, for the first time. It reminds me I exist and it reminds me that’s neat. 

Hot Chocolate : Are you an affectionate person?

Yessssss oh my god. I live and breathe being affectionate and not even in a strictly romantic sense. I’m naturally an exuberant person and I delight in making people happy. My girlfriend would also say I engage in “cat behavior” with my demands to be held or touching constantly. XD 

Caramel Macchiato : You’re travelling the entire world but you can only take one person with you. Who do you take?

My girlfriend @sweetmckinnon. Not only would we have the unprecedented opportunity to be gay in every country and continent, but we’re both writers, and we’d write an excellent book about these adventures! 

Green Tea : How tall are you?

5’7. 

Early Grey Tea : The inevitable Zombie Apocalypse is upon us! What’s your plan of action?

I’m rounding up everyone I care about and taking us to the nearest commune of marginalized people. We’ll be avoiding those uber-macho survivalist types like the plague, because their arrogance will 100% get everyone killed. At least marginalized communities would be more likely to understand working together and looking out for the community, not just yourself. 

Mint Tea : How do you relax?

Indoor cycling is my drug of choice. It’s HARD to be mad or stressed when you’re exerting that intensely. I might also write self-indulgent fanfics or indulge in a little controlled chaos (I’m an acrylic pour and collage artist). And talking to my girlfriend, best friend, or mom always makes me feel better, too. 

Vanilla Latte : Board games or drinking games?

I genuinely love board games and wish I had more people to play them with. 

Iced Coffee : Do you like reading? If so, what’s your favorite book?

I like reading, but having ADHD has made it extremely hard to read entire books in recent years. My favorite book is probably The Radium Girls by Kate Moore. The author takes what’s already a horrific story and a dark chapter in American history and with her devastating writing style, humanizes each woman involved to the point it makes you ache to read knowing the inevitability of their fate. Anytime anyone asks me for a book recommendation, this is the book I suggest. 

Italian Soda : Describe your dream date

My dream date would be after we’ve been together for a while - maybe on a date that’s special to us, like our anniversary, or maybe just on a random night because we feel like it, we have one of those super romantic dates like you see in the movies. We dress up super cute, go out to dinner and come home to a bedroom full of candles and rose petals on the floor, and every moment is spent just enjoying each other and what we have together in every way we can. <3 

Sparkling Water : Describe what qualities you look for in a person

Passion - I’m an activist who became the executive director of their own nonprofit at the age of 16. I’m not going to mesh with someone who’s just going through the motions of life without any aspirations. 

Flexibility - It’s a turnoff for me when someone is EXTREMELY committed to a very specific view of how their life is going to be. It tells me right away I’m going to have to continually contort myself to fit into their unbending path, because I accept I can’t predict the direction of my life with any degree of precision and I’m not rigid about it as a result. 

Creative - I’m currently dating another writer and it’s the most fun I’ve ever had in a relationship. The quickest way to get us to pop off into a spirited debate is to get us started about story structure and characterization. We. Go. OFF. And could go off for days. Our shared creative passion gives us endless ground to connect and bond on. 

Those are just a few, but definitely a few important ones for me! 

Orange Juice : Have you ever had a valentine?

My first girlfriend, who I dated from 12-17, is the only valentine I’ve ever had. The timing of my relationships as an adult has never worked out for me to be partnered on Valentine’s Day. We weren’t super out about our relationship at the time and didn’t spend Valentine’s Day together, but I still have the love letters she sent me copied into my 7th grade diary, and I still have the antique gold heart necklace with enamel roses she gave me one year, too! Lots of lovely memories from that relationship. 

Rose Hip Tea : Describe your first kiss

My first girlfriend and I were 12-13, cutting class in the bathroom because she was often bullied for her sexuality. She was having an especially rough day that day and I knew exactly where to find her. She kissed me out of the blue while I was comforting her and in all of my baby gay naivety, I hadn’t fully realized I was gay or that she liked me that way prior to that. Turns out I was and she did. We dated for five years. 

Herbal Tea : You’re at a candle shop, what scented candle do you buy?

Oh, I’m going right to the bakery scent section. I’m not a huge fan of chocolate-scented candles, but vanilla? Christmas cookies? Gingerbread? Sign me the FUCK up. 

Sandalwood is also one of my favorite scents, but depending on what it’s blended with, it can be hit or miss for me in candles. 

[tiaragqueen]

On A Silver Platter

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Kim Seokjin x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,4k

✂ Trigger Warning: Implied cannibalism, cheating, slight manipulation, possessiveness

✂  The story is fictional and for amusement only. I don't believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

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If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“And I’m crazy for loving you. Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you. I’m crazy for trying and crazy for crying. And I’m crazy for loving you.” - Crazy [Patsy Cline]

              You were a curious woman.

      There was always something that caught your interest; be it a simple action such as how to get rid of thorns to why people do the things they do. Sometimes, you also asked some questionable things and usually gave evasive responses when people questioned your reason. You weren’t jaded like most people he knew, and you never felt as if you knew and experienced everything in this world.

      Like a moth to the flame, Jin was hopelessly and utterly enamored with you.

      However, no human is perfect.

      Due to your bottomless curiosity, you were often bored with banality and had a short span of attention before you moved on to a new, more exciting matter.

      It would be a huge turn off for some men, knowing that you might not be the most committed woman out there. And yes, even you felt that you couldn’t stay loyal to your partner.

      Jin knew it too, and yet he still endeavored to pursue a relationship with you.

      No fear or hesitation radiated from his being as he boldly confessed his undying feelings for you. He maintained a solid eye-contact throughout, and although you weren’t necessarily attracted to him in the first place, you could say that you were impressed with his bravery. Very few men would approach a woman and tell her their true feelings in fear of rejection.

      Thus, you began your relationship with the famous chef in the city, Kim Seokjin.

      At first, it was all sunshine and rainbows. You were an interesting girlfriend, always had something up her sleeves, and plan the strangest and spontaneous dates. You would share your discoveries and voice out the problems that had been gnawing your mind for the whole day.

      Jin was fascinated by how your mind worked; how you always questioned why things worked that way. To other people, you might seem nosy and fussy. But not Jin. Every day, he fell deeper in love with your personality. Those little quirks you unconsciously did when you were doing some things, your childish curiosity, the sparkles in your eyes, that cute grin when you finally figured something out, the triumphant smile when you bragged about a fact that you thought he didn’t know, or the appreciative look when you noticed him listening to your rambling wholeheartedly.

      You could count on one hand the people who truly focused on your subject of interest without interrupting or rolling their eyes in annoyance.

      But just because you were grateful for his attentiveness, doesn’t mean you would be together forever. Nor did you want to.

      You were a cruel woman, you knew that. Yet, you couldn’t change what you were born with.

      Slowly, you distanced yourself from him. It wasn’t anything new to be honest, as you had always been the person who wants their space, particularly after a bad day. Jin respected it, and despite his longing to dispel all of your worries, he knew that he shouldn’t push your boundaries.

      But when you started to spare him no glance or speaking with that dismissive tone when replying to his inquiries, Jin knew. He knew and realized that his fear had come true. And he definitely hadn’t expected it to happen within two months of your relationship.

      “Hey, want to meet up in that bar down the street?”

      It was by pure luck that he managed to catch that message on your phone. Maybe God finally pitied him and decided to give him a peek of what was going on behind the curtains.

      Jin couldn’t be more thankful.

      Snooping into someone’s business is wrong, but he could – no, needed – to make an exception to this one. He had to push aside his morals and the lines that you’ve set very early before you two started, for the sake of shedding some light on to your dubious relationship with this person.

      Unlocking your phone was an easy task, fortunately. It was your birthday, after all. How predictable, yet convenient in situations like this.

      There were a lot of messages from the same number, displaying witty banters and innuendos. He supposed that this person brought a naughtier side of you that he had never seen before. Either you wanted to put on a facade of an inquisitive child trapped in a grown woman’s body, or you just hadn’t found the right partner.

      Until now, that is.

      Thanks to his wide connections, Jin was able to learn the nearest bar they were talking about. Taking up your mannerisms in texting, he began to reply as fast as he could in fear of being caught in the act. You might have cheated on him, you might have been hiding things from him, but he would never want you to think less of him. He’d much prefer you going on with another man behind his back and still being with him than handling your hatred.

      How love had changed him for the worse.

      “Waiting for someone?” he asked casually, sliding down the stool next to a guy with light punky hair. Jin couldn’t believe this was the same man who had been flirting with you through text messages, although he knew that you never paid too much attention to people’s appearance. Even if it was a beggar, and they seemed interesting, then they would still be interested in your eyes.

      “Yeah.” Quiet guy, Jin observed. Not very expected given his eye-catching looks.

      With every passing moment, the guy became increasingly anxious with your lack of presence and stress drinking like a thirsty man he was. Jin made a mental note on every whiskey that he’d belted down and started counting down the second where he would eventually grow tipsy.

      When he was fully intoxicated, which didn’t take too long, Jin offered to accompany him searching for clear air outside. The guy had refused, but Jin insisted with a deceptively friendly smile. He guided him to the back of the bar until Jin proceeded with the first phase of his intricate plan.

      He punched the guy into oblivion.

***

      You came home to a delightful smell of food after another boring, tiring day at work. Inhaling deeply, you followed the source to the kitchen and found Jin cooking with his back facing you. You smiled, proud of your boyfriend’s diligence, and skipped towards him.

      “Jinnie~!” you sang, hugging his wide stomach. God, he was so huggable.

      The said man looked down and smiled. “Jagi, welcome home! How was work?”

      “It was boring~!” you whined as you shuffled over the dining table and plopped down on the chair. “Sometimes I want the time to move faster, but other times I want it to go slower. I’m so fickle, aren’t I?”

      “No, not at all.” Jin put down a platter of fried meat on the table and noticed – with pride swelling in his chest – your eyes lit up. “You’re just flexible, is all. It’s not a bad thing, you know? I’d say that it’s your main charm.”

      Regardless of the white lies, he’d told you – because it was true; you really were fickle – Jin was glad that there was another fact that he could use to his advantage.

      The fact that you were a foodie, just like him.

      “Yeah, yeah, thank you,” you said distractedly. Although your gratitude sounded insincere, he decided to gloss over it. You were always serious about food anyway, and it was nice to know that you were just as intrigued by his new creation as he had expected you to. “What’s this? Is this a new menu? You’ve never cooked this before.”

      Jin hummed in confirmation. “I’ve been wanting to try out this new recipe I’ve found a week ago. I hope you like it.”

      You laughed, and he swore he teared up a little at the melodious sound. How long has it been since the last time he heard you laugh – for him, even – like this? He never knew just how much he missed your laughter, or you paying attention to him in general.

      “Oh, Jin,” you wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes and smiled, unaware of the effects you’d inadvertently caused to him. “You know I’ll always like your cooking better than anyone in this world.”

      Jin forced himself to smile despite the overwhelming relief and happiness that threatened to flow. “Thank you. I’m so glad you still choose to be with me, even though there are more interesting men out there that want your attention just as much. Thank you... for always being with me.”

      It was low of him, he admitted, to alluded to your cheating situation like that. Especially when you flinched a bit; engrossed with your guilt and fear to notice the fact that he had never compared himself to other people before.

      But he didn’t care. It was about time you realized that he knew about your other relationship, and stopped your little act of innocence.

       Even if he had to serve that guy to you on a silver platter.

#yandere bangtan sonyeondan #yandere bts #yandere bts au #yandere kpop #yandere kpop au #yandere bts story #yandere jin #yandere seokjin #yandere kim seokjin #yandere seokjin x reader #yandere jin x reader #yandere kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #yandere kpop story #yandere jin bts #yandere seokjin bts #yandere kim seokjin bts

[yogaposesfortwo]

Teaching Yoga in the Age of COVID-19

With cancelled events and a real fear of losing income, here are 10 things you can do to contribute to collective health and feel better about the future. Like so many others, I am unsalaried and part of the service industry. So far, four events (and counting?!) I was booked for have been cancelled. This feels particularly poignant since it happens on the tail end of making a commitment to myself to be more discerning in where my energy is valued and with whom I am aligned. In blunter words, I already chose to make less money in 2020, then COVID-19 arrived. And now the events I did chose are being responsibly cancelled. And like many others, I don’t have a fallback. I also know I had the privilege to chose this life of teaching yoga. And I’m scared shitless.

After the third event was cancelled, I paused. I spent an entire day cooking and making a playlist to self-soothe. I checked in on my people. For me, this was akin to putting on my oxygen mask first before attempting to help others. I took refuge in my practice. I sought the grace my practice has instilled me with. See also Yoga Studios and Festivals Change Schedules, Protocol Because of Coronavirus

Using Yoga to Navigate a Global Pandemic

A global pandemic has issued us an enormous wake-up call. And nobody at all is excluded from that wake-up call. The coronavirus, which causes the highly contagious respiratory disease named COVID-19, doesn’t discriminate when it comes to who will be affected (though it certainly affects disproportionately). Along with this wake-up call has come fear, panic, anxiety, and stress—all commonly touted reasons to practice yoga. It’s easy for yoga teachers and studio owners to proclaim today that “The world needs yoga, now more than ever.” But what the world really needs most in this moment is for us to stay home. As much as possible. You see, this novel coronavirus is just that, novel. And we don’t really know how many infected-but-asymptomatic people are contagious. And our glorious gatherings of practitioners in public yoga classes, festivals, and at other events require us to come together, often in warm, moist environments that could be giving the virus more droplets to congregate in and more sticky surfaces to cling to. There’s too much we don’t know yet to make decisions about how it will or won’t transmit. I wholeheartedly agree that the practice of yoga is a refuge. But, in my experience, as a teacher for years, it was never meant to be a place to escape from the world. It is a refuge in which to cultivate the tools and resources to be in graceful relationship with all that arises, come what may. The love and the light as well as the pandemics and fear and everything in between. And whether you are in the physical presence of a teacher and students or in class or not, your practice is with you and there for you. All the practices that have taken root in your being are now available to you to navigate losses of all kinds, health scares, and fear for your family and for your future. For our future. Your practice is already in you. See also Stressed About Coronavirus? Here’s How Yoga Can Help. I believe this universal disruption of every aspect of our lives is an opportunity, albeit an extraordinarily painful one, for us to learn the difference between reaction and response. To evaluate what is truly important and worthy of our life force. To see what we DO have, not just what we’ve lost. To understand what self-care we need to feel the proverbial ground beneath our feet. To explore how we can put our years of practice into play and look beyond the self. To get creative with how we stay connected and support and hold space for each other. To innovate.

10 Creative Ways to Keep Teaching During the Coronavirus Pandemic

Technology affords many of us the opportunity to be prosocial, stay connected, and even practice yoga together. Once we have grounded ourselves to the degree possible, we can get creative. Here are some of my tips and suggestions to get your creative teacher wheels spinning: 1. Take care of yourself. Put your “oxygen mask” on first so you aren’t offering from an empty cup. It’s entirely possible to avoid processing your own fear, stress and anxiety by shifting immediately into being productive. Your offerings will benefit from going through this process yourself. See also 7 Sequences for Better Sleep 2. Stay in your lane. Yoga is a consciousness-based practice. Unless you are also qualified in public health, don’t give advice beyond the scope of your practice and expertise. 3. Explore the viability of digital tools like FaceTime, IGTV, Facebook Live, YouTube Live, and Zoom. 4. Let go of any emphasis on aesthetic. You neither have to look perfect nor does your space before you make an online offering. Most smart phones have excellent cameras, it may be all you need. 5. Create a schedule for your online offerings. This can support grounding you and those you offer your teachings to. 6. Consider both compensation and giving. The choice to offer everything for free is generous. But doing so can also make it harder for other teachers without any fallback or with a different outlook or set of needs to ask for some compensation or donation. Perhaps the most sustainable and considerate option is to offer some things for free and other things either by donation or for a fee. You can use tools like Venmo, Cash App, and PayPal. 7. Communicate. Be transparent, honest, and real. And don’t be afraid to ASK. 8. Support each other. We all have different areas of emphasis, let’s celebrate them so our offerings reach the right people. This isn’t a competition. 9. Reflect on anitya, or impermanence. The only constant is change. This is not permanent. 10. Keep up your personal practices and rituals. See also 11 Yoga Practices for Working Through Stress and Anxiety To everyone, I’d say: First acknowledge how you feel. Then acknowledge your resources. All of them. Acknowledge your loss. Then, when you’re ready, acknowledge your opportunities. I’ll be doing my best to keep highlighting all of them and reaching out to those who want and need support. I see you. May you be happyMay you be healthyMay you be safeMay you live with ease Author: Gina Caputo Source: https://www.yogajournal.com/teach/yoga-teaching-tips-during-coronavirus Discover more info about Yoga Poses for Two People here: Yoga Poses for Two Read the full article

[foxofthedesert]

How to Tame a Siren | A DinahSiren Arrow FF

So, like every other DinahSiren shipper, I loved the scene after Laurel's petition to have Oliver released is denied and Dinah stops her from going after the judge. Dinah has some pretty impressive Siren calming skills, so I wanted to explore that in the setting of an established relationship.

If you’d rather read/comment on AO3, click here.

"Fuck!"

Bursting up from the sofa, Laurel heaves the notepad in her hand clear across the apartment, shouting into the effort with almost enough force to trigger her sonic ability. For what must be the fifteenth time this evening, she had read through an amended opening statement for the trial due to start tomorrow morning only to find it yet again utterly inadequate. Which in turn made her feel inadequate. Which then made her angry.

This trial is by far the most critical of her career. It is make or break stuff, really, of the sort that could catapult her from a zealous state D.A. into the realm of public political stardom. The potential to extend her sphere of influence into the elusive halls of power is too tempting to resist when Mayors, State Reps, and Governors – hell, even a few prominent US Senators – were made from emerging victorious in similarly high profile spectacles. Being District Attorney of a metropolitan area has certainly afforded her a tantalizing sample of what real power tastes like, and she has wantonly indulged herself in the heady flavor, but there is no sense in denying she wants more. The limited prestige of local prominence is not enough. Her desire to join the exclusive ranks of the political elite only intensifies the closer she gets to breaking through the threshold of a ceiling that appears increasingly less impenetrable. Just because she has mostly bottled up her dark side does not mean she has ceded her ambitions. First meta-human President sure does have a nice ring to it, after all.

Since giving up the unrivaled adrenaline rush of hunting down enemies then mercilessly disposing of them, Laurel has needed to focus those chaotic energies into more productive outlets. Joining Oliver's gang of mostly insufferable do-gooders proved an ineffective option, as such selfless service could never satisfy her ferocious, ultra-competitive drive. Oh, she tried suiting up for a while as a means to sate her frequent urges to commit violence, but found it to be at best a stop-gap solution. Fighting did help, and still does, to mollify the malefic creature crawling beneath her skin everyone so lovingly refers to as Black Siren, just not enough.

Sadly prowling the shadowy streets of Star City and pummeling members of the criminal element she once would have casually commiserated with had one glaring flaw: every night when her patrol was done she had to go home and try to stuff Siren back into the little square box labeled: DANGER MONSTER INSIDE, DO NOT OPEN. On a good day of pretending to be someone she isn't, that box barely survives the inexhaustible fury of the prisoner it was specifically constructed to contain.

The only alternative to giving in to the insidious temptation to become Black Siren again was to supplement the lackluster approach of vigilantism by funneling some of that excess energy into her day job. So that's what she has done, having adopted a method of practicing law that mirrors her no-holds-barred approach to fighting. Ruthless, aggressive, largely merciless, occasionally reckless, always a sharpened blade in hand ready to be metaphorically driven home. These were some of the descriptive words and phrases she has heard attributed to her tenure as District Attorney, meant as criticism by her opponents and praise by her supporters. Whether offered as complimentary or disparaging, she embraces them all wholeheartedly. Ultimately she is who she is and forever shall be, only now she focuses on being an edgy, remorseless, vindictive, judgmental, angry person in the courtroom so she can just be Laurel at home.

That said, she would be lying to insist she never wishes to return to the simplicity of Siren's outlook on life. Being a good guy is hella complicated and terribly stressful. There is an undeniable advantage to not giving two shits about anyone other than herself. Doing the right thing is so often thankless and contradictory to her temperament that she suffers from far more anxiety than she ever did causing mayhem whilst arrayed in the signature black leather and fishnets. Some mornings she finds it hard to force herself out the front door of the apartment for the gigantic knot of caustic dread that has taken up residence in her belly. But she has yet to let that irrational angst defeat her, in no small part thanks to the stubbornness that makes her a survivor. That, and there is one very special person for whom she would do almost anything who does not allow her to surrender to her worst characteristics or her very real fears.

On nights like tonight, though, when she is frustrated beyond all reckoning and has been bullied to the bleeding edge of her tolerance with the expectation placed upon her to do things the 'right way,' preventing a full blown Siren-apocalypse tests the limits of her carefully developed self-control. And when she is arguing with herself internally like she is right now? Yeah, that doesn't help at all. Doesn't bode well for her sanity, either.

What the hell are you doing, you deluded moron? The villainous part of Laurel's psyche is being so excessively obnoxious tonight that she is unable to ignore it. You're no Clarence Darrow. Hell, Gomez Addams is more qualified than you are for this shit. You know what that means, don't you? It means you're gonna fuck this up just like you do everything else. It means you're gonna make a fool of yourself in front of some of the most powerful people in the entire country in addition to those sappy morons you've started hanging out with. It also means a killer is gonna walk free. Good thing it would be oh-so-easy to make sure that never happens! Betcha a crisp Nixon or whoever the hell is on a hundred here it wouldn't be hard to intercept prisoner transpo and take care of that problem. Permanently.

"No! I can't. I won't..." Shaking her head frantically, Laurel is as much frustration over her internal dialogue with an imaginary version of her worst self as she is over responding audibly to the obvious goading. Agitated past the point of reason, she begins to pace the area in front of the sofa like a captive tiger whose juicy meal was left just out of reach of her chains. To ward off a total meltdown, she slips into the tried and true method she was taught to master the monster within.

"First," Ollie had told her taking up a very convincing zen pose, "close your eyes and envision a harbor of peace, somewhere you are totally safe. Somewhere you feel secure enough to allow yourself to be vulnerable. A place that you can be your true self, absent of all baggage weighing you down and as in touch with your former innocence as is possible. See it? Good. Now go there. Immerse yourself in your surroundings. Let the familiarity and serenity and warmth seep into your bones and wash away the fear and rage."

That part was always easy enough for Laurel. When she first started training in Oliver's regimen, she used to envision her house on Earth-2 back before her mother miscarried after an accident and her parents started fighting all the time, then divorced a couple years later, and soon after her father crawled head first into the bottle. Back then, she was exactly like every other happy little girl in America. Mommy's angel and Daddy's pride and joy, she was celebrated for her advanced intellect and a gift for language that manifested early alongside a clear affinity for mediation and a prodigious grasp for very vague concepts of justice. She can remember her Mom and Dad playfully arguing about whose footsteps she would follow in. Was she going to become a career academic like her Mom? Or a cop like her Dad? They never could agree. In the end, Laurel landed somewhere between all on her own, not that it mattered when her idyllic life came to a screeching halt not long after her eighth birthday. But the memory of that former happiness was enough to center her in the midst of the storm of unfettered darkness that was Black Siren.

Like Ollie, however, she has since moved on from that initial visualization. Her refuge is no longer a place but a person.

Dinah.

Just the thought of that name creates a puddle of warmth low in Laurel's belly that swirls wonderfully northward. Once reaching her chest, it then spreads into her arms and fingers, which begin to tingle with anticipation that will have to wait til later for fulfillment.

Her eyes slide shut involuntarily as she imagines Dinah in all of her glory – olive skin that is every bit as soft as it looks, thick curly brown hair she envies as much as she loves, entrancing green eyes that reveal the mysteries of the universe to an infinitely curious mind, and sinfully lush lips turned up in a smile only she gets to see. A distinctive smell washes over her as the very human vision of her haven coalesces within the mist of her memory, cherries and the subtle hint of Tom Ford Jasmin Rouge, and it is accompanied by the feel of warm fingers and palms sliding against and caressing the bare flesh of her arms, shoulders, sides, hips, and along the small of her back. Shivering at the ghost of a touch for which she has acquired an insatiable addiction, she also hears a slightly husky yet alluring feminine voice whose dulcet tones are capable of penetrating any resistance constructed by a heart that has been abused so many times there is no reckoning the wounds. That voice – Dinah's unmistakable voice – is telling her to be strong, is encouraging her with reminders of all the good she's done since rejoining the wider world, and comforts her with assurances that she is loved and always will be.

Like the arrival of a gentle morning tide, Laurel feels calm wash over her and her monstrous side recedes a step into the darkness.

"Next," Oliver would say, "concentrate on regulating your breathing and then focus on bringing your heart rate down. Elevated BP and oxygen supply to the brain only fuels the runaway chain chemical reaction going on. Control is what we are after, so strive for it with single-minded tenacity."

Again, easy enough, though primarily thanks to her gorgeous, heroic, compassionate, unshakable anchor – the woman in whom she has learned to trust and for whom she would take on the whole world. Taking slow, deep breaths, Laurel hones in on the sound of her heartbeat and then compares it with the memory of the one steadily beating beneath her ear most nights. That gentle thrumming cadence, so reliable and soothing, is a unique pacifier that has proved a startlingly effective cure to chronic insomnia.

Funny, she never believed books and movies that made romance out into some mythical cure to all the ailments of the human condition. She still doesn't about a lot of it. Not only do her psychological scars preclude her from such vapid sentimentality, experience has taught her that love can often be every bit as destructive as it is some wholesome force with only benevolent intentions and outcomes. There was a time in the not-so-distant past in which love inspired her to commit atrocities she will never atone for or forget, acts of such unfathomable depravity they eat away at her restored conscience to the point she has started wrenching awake from the throes of a vivid nightmare recounting on of them. And in the present, love has yet to cure her infrequent depressive fits any more than it has rid her of the endlessly reoccurring compulsion to murder the terminally moronic legal-lackeys who annoy her on a daily basis. But! She has discovered, to her immense delight, that popular media was right about one thing. It really is so much easier to fall asleep ensconced in the strong arms of the one person she loves more than anything or anyone else while listening to said person's heartbeat.

Unbidden yet beyond her capacity to resist, Laurel's lips quirk up into an amused smile. Felicity was so insufferable when Laurel admitted to Dinah turning her into a cuddle bug because a girl's night ended up with her having too liberally imbibed the delicious spirits served at their favorite 'friend date' haunt. A few other tidbits about herself also slipped free that night. One of them was of a particularly intimate nature and involved a graphic description of her all time favorite taste and smell, which got her into so much fucking trouble less than a week later because Felicity is literally incapable of keeping a secret, especially when in company with one Curtis Holt who has flipped his gossip switch on.

Lord have mercy! But isn't Dinah a splendorous vision when she's royally pissed off.

"Having restored a sense of equilibrium," Oliver would instruct once the first two phases were complete, "carefully corral the monster inside into a place from which it can't escape. There is no other option than compartmentalizing. Believe me, I've tried everything else. Embracing the monster only gives it validation and power over you that you will find nearly impossible to regain. Ignoring it will only feed it's rage. And trying to lock it away forever will only make it all the more vicious and bloodthirsty when it inevitably escapes imprisonment. No, the only way to deal with what people like you and I have to deal with is to control it fanatically. That means intensively training to unleash it with purpose instead of reckless abandon, very much like a weapon, and at all other times strictly segregating it. So put it in a box or toss it in a cage or seal it away in a cell, never lose track of the key, and then keep a close watch on it until the next moment arrives when you need it again.

This is the hardest part. Not because Siren doesn't go into her cage like she's been conditioned to, but because Laurel always feels bad about banishing that part of her into such desolate isolation. Without it, she probably would not have survived the repeated traumas she endured without going batshit insane.

Being Black Siren was not always the study in mustache-twirling villainy as it was when she relocated to this Earth. At first, she was on a crusade to secure righteous retribution for her father and Ollie and all the broken, hapless, vulnerable prey like her who succumbed to one or many of the soulless sharks circling the chummed waters in the wake of a personal tragedy. If only she knew what she does now, that revenge never goes as planned, is never as satisfying as one hopes it will be, and ultimately leads one down a rabbit hole of infinite darkness.

When killing Brett Collins – the drunken bastard responsible for her father's death – didn't quench the hatred that had taken root in her heart, she started hitting the streets on a regular basis. Before long, and with the help of an assassin named Sandra who took an unusual interest in her, she was learning how to fight with more than just her meta ability. Encounters with targets got progressively more out of control until she was not only either putting them in the hospital or the morgue, but she lost her ability to differentiate between just punishment and violence for the sake of personal pleasure. By the time Zoom coerced her into his cohort of meta-terrorists, there wasn't much left of the Laurel who was once the biggest daddies girl to ever live and who would have gladly endured a thousand scourgings or literally ran through fire for her beloved Ollie.

If only she could go back in time and tell her younger self how futile that path was, how empty and deprived of meaning her life became, she could have been spared so much unnecessary pain and so many avoidable stains on her conscience. Sadly, time on goes in one direction unless one is conscripted by an intergalactic agency with honest-to-God H.G. Wells time machines. Sara would not look kindly upon theft of The Waverider, even it was for a very good cause by her sister's doppelganger. Nor is Laurel is inclined to undertake such an endeavor. She has many regrets, far more than she can process at any one time, but the desolate highway of anguish she trod to get to where she is also made her who she is. And while she is not always at peace with the countless sins she has committed and never will be, she is unwilling to give up what she so serendipitously stumbled upon here in the Star City of Earth-1. With Dinah Drake of all people.

Three years ago, she would have laughed until her stomach hurt if someone would have suggested she would refuse to trade the sanctimonious bitch extraordinaire she first met on Lian Yu even if tempted with the opportunity to get either her father or her Ollie back – or both. And yet here she is, confidently acknowledging she would do just that without so much as a twinge of self-recrimination or guilt.

Dinah is, without question, the best thing that has ever happened to her, and there is nothing she won't do to keep from fucking up what they have. She can't say that about anyone else. For Quentin, Laurel had let her true self peek through the curtain of protection over her heart that was Black Siren, was even willing to let that self share the spotlight with her villainous alter ego. But for Dinah, she learned how to put Siren in a gigantic, cold, black box only to ever let her out when she's useful. There are no words to describe how huge a deal taking that leap was for Laurel. No one really would or could understand it except for Dinah and Oliver, both of whom appreciate her sacrifice to varying to degrees.

Oliver has a monster of his own to contend with and, since he agreed to train her how to deal with hers, no longer looks at her with that judgmental loathing and disappointment that once tainted their every interaction. Hell, he has even come to respect her for what she can offer beyond her rival combat skills and vague similarities to the Laurel he lost because he knows her daily struggles better than anyone else. They have developed a tentative friendship that neither are in a rush to experiment with for fear of triggering the other's traumatic memories of lost loved ones that wear their faces. To them, this amiable detente is working wonderfully, therefore it is perfectly sufficient.

Dinah, though...well, Dinah was the first member of the Team Arrow clique to care for the Laurel that is without any ulterior motives underscoring her overtures. It Dinah's unexpected and numerous offerings of support or encouragement that kept Laurel from making some mistakes that might well have re-immersed her in the ocean of hate, bitterness, and rage that was Black Siren. Dinah also had experience with taking out her pain on those who perpetrated it, has spilled blood and killed with her abilities in the pursuit of revenge. One of the people who hurt Dinah the worst was, in fact, Laurel, and that she was able to forgive Laurel for Vinny even a little bit spoke to the absolute strength of her character. A lot of vigilantes squawk about being heroes and set about proving how awesome they are with their fists or guns or knives or bows and arrows. Dinah proved she was a hero by showing compassion to the person for which she had the least reason to do so. To a practiced pessimist like Laurel, that alone made Dinah worth trusting, worth embracing, worth appreciating...worth loving. So when to her shock and inconceivable joy Dinah admitted to returning her seemingly hopeless affections, there was no way in hell she was gonna miss the chance to seize an opportunity she knew instinctively would develop into a once in a lifetime love. And it has been exactly that.

Objectively speaking, Laurel is fully aware she has no right to be as happy as she is. Thing about is she is too happy to care. So what if some of Dinah's friends on Team Arrow still don't trust her. So what if public opinion of their relationship is not always rosy. So what if their problematic history rears its ugly head and they fight like dogs and cats every now and then. So what if the whole fucking world disapproves of what they have. So long as Dinah is healthy and happy, anyone who has a negative opinion about their relationship can take a really short walk off a very tall bridge. Including Siren, who bitches and moans at every opportunity about how soft and pathetic she's become, like she is right now at this very moment. Sometimes Laurel is tempted to consult with Caity Snow about how best to address unwelcome snark from an alter ego. Or a therapist to deal with what might be a serious psychological disorder...

Tough shit, you salty bitch. Time to go back in the hole, Laurel tells Siren as she mentally escorts her darker self, bound hand and foot, to the ebony container she erected in her mind.

Once the beast is safely back in her inescapable box, Laurel returns to the task at hand. This opening statement has to be perfect and by God it will be. She promised a little girl named Susie that the man who took her Mommy and Daddy away would never hurt anyone else ever again. That's a promise she has no intention of breaking. And if successfully prosecuting this case propels her to a notoriety she can advantageously employ to further her career? All the better.

So I'm Meredith Brooks with a functional brain and better hair. Go ahead and sue me. She chuckles under her breath at her own joke.

Determination renewed, Laurel fetches the discarded notepad and deposits herself back on the sofa with renewed purpose. She has an important promise to keep and lofty future prospects to secure. That in mind, she sets about achieving both with a determination that matches the gleam in her eye.

"By the time I'm through, that jury will be eating out of the palm of my hand," she comments to the empty apartment, then begins to read once more

With a sigh of relief, Dinah pushes her key into the lock of her apartment door. God, it's good to be home.

All day long she's been a gigantic ball of stress. Three active, high profile cases have taken up permanent residence on her desk, demanding her attention which is already spread thin. Not only is she having to keep a close eye on the progress being made by six detectives and the entire forensics team, but she is also juggling quarterly performance evaluations on top of the Mayor's request-that-wasn't-a-request to conduct a thorough review of department spending in an effort to streamline the budget. All of that on top of her second job, unpaid by the way, patrolling the streets of Star City as the Black Canary means Dinah is way past due for some down time. Thankfully the end of her current circus act is in sight. An arrest was made today in one of the cases and she signed off on the last of the evaluations. Another two days and the budgetary review will be completed. Once that's done, she intends to take an entire week of vacation and God help anyone who dares to stand in her way.

The only problem with that plan is a certain blonde who has been perhaps the largest drain on Dinah's emotional and psychological reserves. Laurel is under even more pressure than she is, as impossible it seems, and has been working herself stupid since landing the case of the Governor's slain son and daughter-in-law. Dinah can't remember the last time she arrived to what would ordinarily be a relaxing evening at home with her partner of eighteen months.

Normally Laurel would be flitting about the kitchen while doing her best to cook an edible dinner, her golden hair twirled up into a messy bun, dressed in comfy attire like leggings and a loose, off the shoulder sweater or a raggedy old tee. That, or she would be sprawled out on the couch watching MMA or whatever live boxing match might be on, take-out waiting for them both on the dining table. Strangely enough, while Laurel was deadly serious about her job, she is not the type to bring work home with her. This case ended that preferable trend. It has consumed her to a frightening degree. Even when she's at home, her nose is in a law book or she's pouring through case files to find avenues through which to attack the insufferably smug in his wealth and privilege scumbag who – while clearly deranged and guilty as hell – has the best team of defenders dirty money can buy.

To be honest, Dinah is torn between feeling intense pride in Laurel's obsession for justice and a very real concern that said obsession might precipitate a backslide into dangerous habits that don't lead anywhere good. While she has long since forgiven Laurel for what went down with Vince, has even fallen so far beyond head over heels in love with her, a malicious specter lingers upon the horizon. Black Siren, while distant, is forever a threat to the mostly normal and incredibly happy life they have built together. Dinah knows all too well that for people like her and Laurel who have binged upon the sickly sweet delicacies offered by the worst aspects of human nature, succumbing to those old addictions is ever a single taste away.

For the past two weeks she's lain awake in their bed at night until exhaustion finally pulled her under the cresting waves of slumber, unable to fall asleep swiftly as she usually does due to slightly irrational fretting over Laurel's deteriorating mental state. Staring endlessly at Laurel's face, relaxed in repose but still troubled by demons that haunt her dreams, does nothing to quell the creeping panic that seems intent on digging further beneath Dinah's skin with every minute doubt or fear. Never has she been so invested in another person. Not even Vince. And that, more than anything else, is what fuels intense, paranoid fantasies of losing Laurel.

There is no accounting how many times she has conjured up what might happen if a not guilty verdict is returned in this crucial, impending trial. Of how she would be forced to watch Laurel's vibrant olive green eyes turn cold, and of their tense evening at home with all of Dinah's attempts to assuage Laurel's simmering rage failing miserably. Of Laurel eventually tiring of being pawed at and patronized with another you did your best, of her snapping at Dinah and then storming out of their apartment with death emblazoned all over her striking features. Of the morning news reporting the grisly murder of the real estate tycoon recently acquitted of murdering the Governor's son and daughter-in-law. And then the worst part, Laurel sneaking back home the next night, streaks of dried blood staining her blonde mane any ugly rusted shade of red, bags under bloodshot eyes blurry from not having slept on a manic euphoria-induced bender of senseless violence and palpable self-loathing.

Just the thought of anything remotely resembling that scenario coming to pass causes Dinah's stomach to knot with dread like a gnarled tree trunk from some old horror movie. There is little she could conjure up equally as capable of turning her guts into liquid and her heart into a block of burning ice. It is literally the worst possible outcome of this case, one that Dinah does not think she could survive. Losing Vince twice made her say and do and want things she never imagined she could back when she was a young and idealistic Marine. She had thought watching him die as Laurel screamed into his ear was her breaking point. She was wrong. So wrong. Losing Laurel to Black Siren again? That, Dinah thinks, might actually shatter her into so many jagged pieces that a veritable army of puzzle geeks couldn't put her back together.

Imagine then, how quickly panic sets in when she enters their apartment only to find Laurel on the sofa, bent over a notepad on the coffee table, hands tugging at her hair and an ugly sneer marring her pretty lips. After tossing her purse and keys onto the stand next the door, Dinah stalls for a few seconds to gather her courage before risking a breech of the fraught silence.

"Hey..." Dinah winces as much at how tremulous the lame greeting was as at the way Laurel stiffens at hearing it. She berates herself internally, knowing the last thing Laurel needs right now is to hear the doubts regarding her sanity in her girlfriend's voice. After clearing her throat and shaking off the nerves as best she can, Dinah tries again, this time aiming for and successfully achieving a warm concern that any good girlfriend should have upon discovering her partner in such a state. "You okay? You look like you're about ten seconds away from putting Mt. St. Helens to shame."

For a second Laurel just sits there stiff as a board, causing Dinah to hold her breath. She lets it out with a silent prayer of thanks when Laurel heaves a sigh and then runs a shaky hand through her hair.

"It's this fucking case," Laurel says, choice of vocabulary not that surprising. The more stressed – or aroused – she gets, the more f-bombs she drops. "And this fucking opening statement." She gestures wildly toward the notepad as if it were a criminal on trial for felonious assault. "It's just...it's complete and utter dogshit. Patrick Star could construct a better, more persuasive argument. This is the biggest trial of my fucking career and I can't even write an opening statement that would convince a fucking six year old that peas are nasty shit and ice cream is delicious angel food. And I'm just so fucking frustrated and..."

Trailing off, Laurel growls, then sighs again before finally shifting so she can look at Dinah. There is a liquid desperation in her eyes that reveals how close to the edge she is currently teetering.

"I'm at my wits end here, Dinah. I cannot afford to fuck this up. My entire fucking future is riding on the outcome of this case. The Governor has been watching my every move, breathing down my neck twenty-four seven, pressuring me to deliver on this with an unspoken or else hanging over my head like a fucking Damoclean Sword of political homicide. Not only that, but I have an opportunity to really put myself out there, you know? Everyone knows me as Laurel Lance, back from the dead, used to be the Black Fucking Canary or Laurel Lance the unerring crusader for justice. But you know what? I have ambitions. I have aspirations. I'm not that meek Laurel that derived genuine satisfaction putting bad guys behind bars. You know that better than anyone.

"I need challenges, I need high stakes to survive. I can't do mundane, Dinah. I just can't. I like the limelight. I thrive in it. It's exciting and addictive and I'm not ready to fade into obscurity. I don't want to just be a D.A. for a couple more terms and then slink into private practice with my tail between my legs. I want more. I wanna shoot for the stars, 'cause otherwise what's the fucking point? And this case? This is my chance to do that. To make a name for myself in influential circles beyond Star City. Beyond California, even! People in D.C. are following this case. Did you know that? And yet as with everything else, I'm fixing prove to them that I'm nothing but a gargantuan fucking failure. Fuck!"

That last exclamation is punctuated by a fist slamming so forcefully into the dense oak coffee table all of the knickknacks on it clatter and shuffle or are knocked off entirely.

For a second, Dinah just stares at Laurel, a bit flabbergasted at that tirade. All of it, not just the abuse of the table. She's always known a quiet life was not in the cards so long as they are together. Laurel was right about that. There is no getting around who Laurel is as a person. She is as she said. An ambitious daredevil who loves the spotlight and craves the trappings of power. Turning over a newish leaf has not changed those aspects of her character, which is perfectly fine with Dinah. She loves Laurel exactly as she is. It's just...well, she never quite connected those traits to a desire for a political career, and that's exactly what the subtext indicated. Maybe she simply never wanted to. Being the partner of a city councilwoman at most was all she really envisioned.

Now that she's been clued in that Laurel is aiming higher, way higher if her ability to read Laurel is a reliable judge, she finds herself surprisingly willing to make some concessions to help facilitate her partner's so-called aspirations. Is it ideal for her to put their private life up for even more public consumption than it already is? No, not really. But if that's what she has to do to accommodate Laurel's professional ambitions, then she is up for giving it a try. That isn't to say it will work. There is every chance putting their relationship under a microscope will signify impending doom. However, there is also a chance that in helping Laurel spread her wings and fly, she'll discover something new about herself as well. And that is an exciting prospect for someone who is also known for pushing boundaries. The leaps from farm girl to Marine to cop to Black Canary have all been pretty spectacular. So what's one more?

First Lady of California does sound kinda nice.

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me? Did I finally scare some sense into you?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Dinah returns her focus to Laurel, whose brows are drawn in tightly and whose lips are pursed in that moody way no one else can accurately replicate. She hadn't meant to leave Laurel hanging, and evidently Laurel took it the wrong way.

Recognizing this moment as critical, Dinah springs into action. "No, no," she says, moving as she talks. "I was just a little stunned by that...outburst. I'm actually kinda glad you got all that out in the open instead of dwelling upon it until it ate you alive. Just...look, I know you're upset, but there's really no need to take it out on the furniture. I assure you, Counselor, the coffee table is innocent."

Ignoring Laurel's scoff, Dinah strides over to the sofa where she approaches danger without a second thought. Three years ago she would never have been so bold seeing as this Laurel Lance is a tempestuous woman by any conceivable standard of comparison. At least once every couple of weeks, at minimum on a monthly basis, Laurel summons up potentially catastrophic hurricanes, which if left to their devices would plow through their relationship with all the tact and delicacy of an irate bull in a china shop. Thankfully by now Dinah has plenty of experience dealing with them. Her ability to forecast Laurel's moods is legendary, and as for actually dealing with them? Well, their friends don't call her the Siren Whisperer for nothing…

Once at the arm of the couch, she bends over to reach for Laurel's hand. Expecting resistance, she is pleasantly surprised when her girlfriend responds positively by taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

"C'mere for a sec," Dinah says, tugging on Laurel's hand. When Laurel does not obey, she tries again with a bit more force, then adds, "Opening statements can wait, Miss Lance. Right now there is an amazing, loving, and extraordinarily patient girlfriend in dire need of a hug that she happens to think will be mutually beneficial. Perhaps we can have a sidebar to address that very critical and time sensitive matter."

A crack in Laurel's foul mood appears in the form of one corner of her lips quirking up. "Going to shamelessly manipulate me with flowery legalese are you?"

Dinah smirks. "Depends. Is it working?"

Shaking her head, Laurel chuckles. A second later, she pushes off the couch to stand. "Always does," she says, and when pulled close, melts into Dinah's waiting embrace.

For the longest time they just stand there in their living room holding each other, gently swaying to the melody of an important song that Dinah hums for both of their enjoyment. Slowly but surely the coil of irritation and rage that was Laurel unfurls until she is pliant and relaxed and fully ensconced in the heady atmosphere of their love. As sense and control return to Laurel, neither are in a hurry to escape the cocoon of warmth surrounding them, so they remain locked together, indulging in the sensation of their bodies in full contact from hips to shoulders, reveling in one another's scent, hands exploring fit frames both over and under items of clothing, all the while exchanging languid kisses or foreheads resting together as they stare at one other with indescribable adoration and devotion on full display.

This is one of Dinah's favorite things to do – just be with the woman she loves in her arms as every last one of her cares fades away into the background. Her buddies in the Marines always used to affectionately tease her about being so touchy-feely with her romantic partners. Said that real Marines stormed the beaches, fought like devils, then extracted with all due diligence. Of course, they were just breaking her balls, as most of them were unarguably whipped, but she never did escape their nickname for her: Huggy Bear. The label didn't bother Dinah. On the contrary, she wore it with pride. In the field, she was all Marine but at home she was all woman. Those that love her understand and accept the dichotomy. Still do.

Laurel took a while to adjust, having never been the cuddly type, but she has since been at least partially converted to Dinah's soft approach to romance. Which is great because now Dinah can throw on some sultry jazz whenever she's in the mood and drag Laurel into the living room to slow dance to Etta James's sultry crooning, Miles Davis' soulful trumpeting, or Charlie Parker's impassioned saxophone until their feet and legs ache. There are also times just like this when both are content to dwell inside the warm bubble of their love without a care for anything or anyone else. Enveloped by Laurel's smell, remnants of hazelnut coffee on her breath and the gentle fragrant spice of her perfume, and blanketed by the love pouring out from Laurel through her eyes and lips and fingertips, the entire world could go up in flames and Dinah couldn't be bothered to give a damn. This is her heaven, and it if were up to her she would never leave it.

But as Solomon so wisely wrote many thousands of years ago, there is a time for everything under heaven to end. As comfy and happy as she is right now, the reason she initiated this embrace remains an elephant in the room that must be addressed. She can't let Laurel go on like this or the next time she might come home to a trashed apartment. Or worse.

Breaking away from Laurel, albeit reluctantly, Dinah maneuvers them both back to the couch. After seating herself, she encourages Laurel to join her.

"Guess there's no getting out of talking it through this time, huh?" Laurel asks, looking embarrassed and at the same time afraid. Not of Dinah, but of herself, how she has been reacting to this case, and at how she has been wriggling her way out of talking out her issues with Dinah at every turn. The time for deflections and avoidance is over. For them both.

"Afraid not, babe," Dinah says, then pats Laurel's hand comfortingly. "This case has been eating you up. You're irritable – well more irritable than usual –" that earns her a glare, "and it isn't just because of your career being on the line. By the way, I just want to say, I didn't know you had your sights set on climbing the ladder so high. But if that's what you want, I'm with you. A hundred percent."

"Really?"

Laurel sounds as surprised as she looks when she shouldn't. Dinah has been nothing but supportive of her career. As a woman in a profession even more male-oriented than practicing public law, she is well versed in navigating the unfair hardships of gender inequality in the workplace as well as the complex social webs that spring up in a mixed gender environment. Granted, being a Marine more than prepared her for the culture shock of being an ambitious woman in primarily male dominated profession, but that isn't to say it was always easy. More than a few hateful pricks and handsy sleazeballs had to learn the hard way that she doesn't take shit from anyone, no matter how large and in charge they may be. While Laurel's venture as D.A. has been far less problematic on that front, the trauma she experienced at the whims of abusive men before assuming Earth-1 Laurel's life made Dinah's pre-cop days seem like a picnic. For both that reason and her own experiences in the workplace, she would never stand in the way of Laurel's dreams. And that wasn't taking into consideration the more simple motive for her support, that she loves Laurel and only wants the best for her.

So, Dinah is a tad bit offended that Laurel might have assumed she would throw a hissy fit or something after learning about her ambitions. That said, she abstains from making a scene over it since she can't deny she has only really been supportive of Laurel's current career track. They have yet to discuss at any length about where they want to be professionally five or ten years down the road. If this conversation is any indication, they should do so before long.

There is only one major reason Dinah can think of off the top of her head as to why they haven't broached the matter, namely Laurel's reticence to discuss where their relationship is headed. God knows Laurel has been let down and betrayed and burned by love too many times to allow herself the luxury of dreaming of a future outside of fighting for her survival. So it isn't a big shock that she doesn't seem to be operating with an end goal in sight as far as their relationship is concerned.

Dinah, on the other hand, has stubbornly clung to her idealistic vision of the future, so she knows where she wants it to be heading. But a relationship is a two-way street that she cannot navigate solo. Before long, she needs to figure out where Laurel stands as far as what she ultimately wants out of this relationship. Otherwise what are they doing? Spinning their wheels. That's what.

"Of course," Dinah finally answers aloud, careful to keep any offense from slipping into her tone. "I love you. I want you to be happy, and not just with our home life. It's just as important to me that you're being fulfilled by your job. Do you believe that?"

For a second Laurel stares at her in disbelief that is quickly banished by awe. "Yeah..." Her response is whispered so low that it is barely audible, so when Dinah arches a brow indicating she requires clarification, Laurel obliges. "Yes, I believe you. Thank you. That...hearing you say that means more to me than I can really explain."

Dinah doesn't agree. She thinks Laurel is perfectly capable of explaining it, but is merely too stubborn and prideful to admit she derives pleasure from receiving Dinah's validation. Why Laurel is so reluctant to confess to such when she has no trouble doing so in the bedroom is a minor inconvenience Dinah has yet to resolve. She is making observable progress, though!

"Oh, I think I have pretty good idea," she says, unwilling to press that particular issue at present when there are other things to address. "But that's not important right now. What's important right now is why you're all twisted up about this case. I've not seen you like this in a long time, and I have to admit it scares me."

Laurel sighs in frustration then pinches the bridge of her nose before responding. "I'm sorry about that. I never want to scare you. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. That's why it's scary. If you're not trying to do it, it means something is really wrong. So what is it?"

Another sigh, this one more plaintive and hesitant. "It's about Susie."

"The Ingrams' daughter that was hiding under her bed while her parents were being slaughtered in the next room?"

Dinah will never forget walking into the apartment and seeing that trembling child sandwiched between two detectives who were trying to take her statement. As Captain, she had responded personally to the murder of two prominent members of Star City's upper crust, a family with links that stretched the breadth of the country all the way into the D.C. establishment. The last thing she expected was to be forced to attempt extracting vital information about the crime from a terrified, traumatized seven year old. She didn't make much headway at all, nor did anyone else who tried, before ordering everyone to leave the girl alone until Child Services arrived. And then Laurel waltzed in and everything changed.

"That's her," Laurel says, visage regaining a semblance of vitality as she talks about little Susan Ingram. "Remember I had to interview her a couple times right after the incident and she, uh...weirdly took a shine to me? And how she wasn't really talking to anybody else, so guess who got to spend bunches of quality time with her?"

Dinah smiles, remembering how Susie would cling to Laurel's leg or hand and would never stray much more than a couple steps from the woman who apparently reminded her a lot of her mother. It was half adorable and half amusing watching Laurel discreetly flail for balance at being the sole recipient of a traumatized child's trust.

"Sure. You acted all put out about it but secretly you fell in love with that little girl just like everybody else did. Me included." And that much was undeniably true. When Laurel informed Susie that Dinah was her girlfriend, it was as if she was suddenly inducted into the club. After that, she was present – as was Laurel – at every last one of Susie's official interviews about her parents' deaths. It was impossible not to love a child who could melt through Laurel Lance's sturdy defenses with such breathtaking ease and speed.

"Yeah...well," Laurel winces subtly, "I may have told her about losing my dad and then given her my word I would make sure the man that took her mom and dad away would never walk the streets again." She pauses then, her eyes misting up as she searches for something from Dinah that she is apparently having trouble finding. "Did I lie to her, Dinah? Am I gonna break that little girl's heart? Am I gonna be responsible for sending her into a death spiral like what happened to me after my dad's killer went free? Am I going to turn that precious, innocent child into me? A broken, deranged killer with no conscience."

Her own heart breaking for Laurel and Susie, Dinah shifts on the sofa, angling in toward Laurel so that their knees are touching. She adds her other hand to where she's holding on to Laurel's, one clasping the underside of Laurel's wrist while the other palms the top of her hand.

"Baby, no. First of all, you aren't broken or deranged, and you most certainly have a conscience. You wouldn't care what happens to Susie otherwise. Secondly, I don't believe for a single second that you will let her down. You're going to win this case and give her and her parents the justice they deserve. I know it."

Doubt and self-recrimination marring her features, Laurel pulls her hands away to run them fretfully through her hair. "How? How can you be so confident when I'm not?"

Absently, Dinah reaches out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind Laurel's ear. "'Cause I know you. Sometimes I think better than you know yourself. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel Lance does not make empty promises."

"Maybe you'll change your mind after you read my opening statement," Laurel replies, then groans miserably. "It's really bad..."

"Doubtful. I've always thought you have a unique way with words. Most juries you've addressed seem to have agreed with me." Smiling, Dinah nudges Laurel's shoulder then gestures toward the offending notepad that seems to be the subject of ninety percent of Laurel's ire. "But I know better than to marginalize your concerns, so let's see it. And before you object due to my blatant conflict of interest, I'll be as unbiased as I can. Sound fair?"

With a drawn out sigh, Laurel returns a hesitant nod. "Yeah. Okay. But only because I trust you won't blow smoke up my ass." She then retrieves the notepad and extends it toward Dinah with a slightly unsteady hand.

Reminded of how critical it is to give an honest opinion without being unduly harsh, something she has become adept at living with a woman whose temper frequently has a hair trigger, Dinah respectfully accepts the notepad. "I won't," she says. "I promise." And then, when Laurel settles back into the cushions, legs crossed and arms folded over her chest, she begins to read.

From the first word, it was clear Laurel's stressing was for nothing. The rest of the opening statement does nothing to contradict that assessment. It is, in her opinion, an incredible speech worthy of being represented upon the silver screen.

"Laurel...this is amazing," she croons after finishing the captivating read. Unsurprisingly, Laurel glares at her dubiously. "Seriously! I'm not trying to spare your feelings because I love you. I actually think it's perfect."

Laurel huffs, stubbornly refusing to accept the praise – which is fairly typical, albeit less so now than when they first started dating. "You said it before. You're biased."

"Obviously. But that doesn't mean I can't recognize a winning argument. I've sat through my fair share of trials, and heard a lot of opening statements. And this?" Dinah brandishes the notepad as if it were the smoking gun in her case to prove Laurel is overreacting. "This is so, so good. But..." tossing the notepad back onto the coffee table, she retakes Laurel's hand, "if you're still not happy with it, tell me what you think is wrong. Maybe articulating your concerns and then tossing ideas back and forth will help work out the kinks."

That perks Laurel up. "You sure? I know we haven't had dinner yet..."

"Not a problem," Dinah says confidently. "I'll call in for Thai and have it delivered. We can work til it gets here. Sound good?"

"No. It sounds...wonderful." Silence stretches out between them as Laurel worships Dinah with her eyes as if seeing her for the first time all over again. The heated gaze of those electric green irises elicits a delicious shiver that corkscrews down Dinah's spine. "Damn," Laurel says after completing her languid study, strangely enough voicing Dinah's own thoughts. "I really am the world's luckiest bitch. 'Cause you are the best girlfriend in history." Full lips quirk up at one corner. "If I was as smart as I say I am, I probably ought to listen to Felicity, stop beating around the bush and wife you up."

The trailing comment, out of left field as it is, does not even phase Dinah. Truth be told, she's been fantasizing about taking their relationship to the next level for a while now. There is little else she wants more in the world than to become Mrs. Laurel Lance.

"Amen, babe. From your lips to God's ears," she replies enthusiastically, catching Laurel completely off guard.

"Are you...actually being serious?" Laurel responds, visibly shaken, waves of insecurity pouring off her. "You'd really…? I mean, you wanna…? You would...to me?"

"Laurel. Jesus." Ashamed of herself for leaving any room for doubt, Dinah heaves a self-recriminatory sigh as she scrubs a hand over her face. "I guess I have to work on my communication skills as much as you do, because of course I do." Deciding that there is no time like the present to get started on that noble goal, she gently squeezes Laurel's hand, willing her to understand just how much she really does want to get married. "I've been thinking about it for so long I already have a million ideas about bridesmaid dresses and venues and catering options." When Laurel's eyes widen comically, Dinah realizes how that might sound like an actual proposal. Chuckling, she shakes her head lightly, "Don't freak out, babe. I'm not asking right now. I'm afraid with me being a traditional girl I am in the romance department, that particular ball is in your court. That being said, at least now you know what my answer will be."

Another briefer silence descends, during which Laurel stares at Dinah in utter amazement and worries at her bottom lip. "By chance, is it the same answer you'd give if I asked you for a kiss?" she asks after a few seconds of waging an internal battle with a part of herself Dinah can already guess is making a fuss out of this.

No doubt it will not be the last time Laurel's dark side has cause or opportunity to undermine the direction their relationship will hopefully be taking – and very soon if Dinah has any say in the matter.

Dinah's answering smile is as much to tease as it is an invitation. "I don't know, Miss Lance. Why don't you woman up and find out."

"Oooo. A challenge. I likey. Alright. So..." Without prompting, Laurel fluidly slides off the couch and onto her knees. Once situated between Dinah's knees, she offers her hands palm up. And when Dinah slides her hands into Laurel's, those mesmerizing green eyes begin to dance. "Dinah Miriam Drake," Laurel says, all formal and serious yet with the stirrings of an indescribable passion and devotion underscored by a hint of playful affection. "Will you do me the extraordinary privilege of allowing me to kiss you?"

Tears well up in Dinah's eyes at the subtext to a query that was clearly a test run for a much more important one to come. Barely able to contain her urge to jump Laurel's bones on the spot and with her heart soaring through clouds of pure saccharine joy, she smiles. This is the easiest question she has ever been asked. Or at least it will be until she gets asked that other one. Doesn't matter, though. To both, her answer is the same.

"Yes."

#arrow fanfic #dinahsiren #dinah drake #laurel lance #black siren #laurel x dinah #dinah is a certified siren whisperer y'all

[dimples-of-discontent]

Do you believe Jensen/Misha's relationship (should it exist as we believe it does) is separate from their wives? Or is it one big mess of polyamory? Do you think Vikki and Danneel know?

Hi there Nonnie,

I’ve been sitting on your ask, and a few others like it, for a while because I want to make sure to answer in a way that is thoughtful and respectful (as you have been in phrasing your question). I’ll cheat a little by saying that I’ve written about it before and have both a “polyamory” tag and a “jmdv” tag as well as a couple like “everybody loves everybody” and “besties and whatever else” that I use less frequently. My tag cluster actually reflects my uncertainty about which particular brand of non-monogamy these four might be practicing.

Most of my thoughts are in my longest post. Here’s how I end it:

I agree with other commenters that there are many ways to do non-monogamy that are not a committed multi-person relationship. That’s kind of what I meant by saying these things change over time, with needs, desires, and life situations. And of course none of us can or should (unless they volunteer it) know what is going on with these dear men.

My personal impression is that–with the kids and the brewery and Misha’s activism and charity work–their being together together is maybe just something for cons now, maybe even just for Rome (DEFINITELY for Rome). But they are obviously still close friends at all other times and share a lot of love, of whatever kind. I have heard people say they are sad that Misha and Jensen don’t seem as close, or worry that they are in a “fight.” It doesn’t seem that way to me. True, Jensen isn’t going crazy with Twitter flirtation like in 2015, there’s no sunset boat ride for us, and they aren’t doing a campaign together like YANA. But let us not forget the Honcon panel in which he transformed into a living hearteyes emoji, got hot and bothered about Misha’s accent (which he demanded to hear), and told a first date story that was all gooey-sweet. There’s nothing but love to see here.

I wholeheartedly and completely agree that no one should ever mention it to them. They are in a somewhat fortunate position where they are famous but not quite famous enough to be chased by mainstream celebrity media who could uncover something like this. And of course they don’t want it to be public–it’s not something that is widely understood or accepted and not just them but their families, their wives and kids, would suffer for it. I wish it were otherwise. So we will doubtless never know and that’s ok. We can just know that, whatever it is, it’s pretty special and we’re pretty fortunate to get to share it just a little.

So that’s my official stance. But you’ve invited me to conjecture a bit so I will. I do genuinely believe that Misha and Jensen have some kind of more-than-friends relationship and that they have for almost ten years (with the exception of the break up period, which I also believe in). I certainly believe their wives know or are actively involved it because they obviously love and respect them and I would say are happily married. But you can be happily and non-monogamously married (as Misha and Vicki have been). There is no way they would be engaging in anything without their wives’ full knowledge and consent.

I’d go further and say that their wives may have actively facilitated their relationship. I’ll admit that I may have been compromised by the fact that I’m such a huge fan of The Cockles Fic “When Harry Met Sally” by @mnwood​ (who is a treasure and has many other great fics too). However, I have always felt that especially Danneel would have played a role in getting them together. Misha would have kept his distance from a straight-seeming dude in a serious relationship. Jensen would have been hesitant and potentially stressed or upset by his feelings depending on how familiar he was with same-sex relationships and with the whole concept of non-monogamy which, well, Jensen is a dark horse so I can’t really say. But his intense worry early on about public perception and his desire to please everyone (and, dude, hard same) makes me think he’d have a fair few hangups about the idea of starting something sexual with a married male costar while in a serious relationship with a woman.

It explains some things too, like why he found Misha so disconcerting (”no one has ever put me back on my heels like Misha did that first day”) and weird. I mean, Misha is unusual, but there’s also a lot of projection there where he’d attribute his own “weird” feelings about Misha to Misha’s own “weirdness.” You can see in very early interviews and outtakes that Jensen is fascinated by Misha. I’m sure he’d really never met anyone like him (who has?) and, although I don’t believe the entire Destiel arc is down to their chemistry, I do think that fascination and attraction reads on camera. In response, I think Misha was a little shy and shocked as well as flattered by so much attention from such an attractive man. I doubt he would have even believed Jensen could be interested in him. With that in mind, I think the idea that Jensen had this obvious and huge crush and that it drove Danneel crazy is pretty plausible. I know that if my partner had a crush like that I’d be like “OH MY GOD JUST GO FOR IT!”.

We also know that Misha and Danneel were almost instant friends. Jensen has said that they share a sense of humor, that they are both “twisted” in the same way. (He’s actually come a hair’s breadth saying that he has a type…) I actually would not be at all surprised, at all, if Misha and Danneel have their own thing sometimes. There’s some real sexual tension there too as well as a great deal of respect and affection (naturally). Is Jensen there too? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe only sometimes. Maybe he’s tied up whimpering and watching the two doms in his life go at it. I don’t know–go use your fanfic imaginations.

The major question mark for me is Vicki since she’s a private person who doesn’t have to be in the public eye for her job and so isn’t. (I admire her so much, for so many reasons.) Her book obviously tells us that she’s open to multi-partner sex and enjoys sleeping with both men and women. So it’s not impossible that she’s involved too. Given the constraints of time, distance, children, and all the rest of life, however, I doubt that they’re chilling in a 4-tet or anything and probably never were. My best guess is that it’s now an occasional thing between Misha and Jensen even if it used to be more. I feel like post-breakup the character of whatever they have did change…perhaps to become more serious (although the rings suggest maybe it was serious before) or maybe less intense (I can see them being super intense right at first after lots of tension and build-up). And children change the whole dynamic no matter what!

So, to answer your original question after great length, I’m sure their wives know and I doubt they’re all in a poly relationship. It’s probably something in the middle–mostly separate for those two but also infrequent or occasional but no less special for that. And let’s remind ourselves again, we don’t know any of this stuff on any authority. I’m speculating about it with the understanding that I don’t have the right to know any of this and never will (unless they go public). This stuff is private because they want it to be that way and, speculate as we may, we must always respect that and keep it to ourselves. I just feel lucky to get to see a small part of it. It never fails to make me happy.

Obligatory link to favorite polyamory resource: https://www.morethantwo.com/ 

#asks #cockles #gross boyfriends #actual husbands #polyamory #jmdv #misheel #everybody loves everybody #cockles is fanfic #sexuality speculation #just a reminder #this is all just speculation #and we should always be respectful #thank you #rps for ts

[astorytellerforthatgirl]

Dei’s Treasured Trophy

Author’s Note: This is my entry to the English Division and Short Story Category of the 68th Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature. This is a draft story years ago but I cannot proceed with it yet because I am looking for a strong character profile. Until this early 2018, I decided Maine is the fitting inspiration for that character. She knew I will join Palanca as I told her the first time we met. Afterwards in our second meeting, I showed her the receiving copy of my submitted entry. I now wholeheartedly share this story to you after the committee announce the winners. Enjoy reading! - RJ T. Vargas

Synopsis

          To describe Dei, she is a hardworking freelance worker, responsible student, and loving daughter and sister. She balances her time between her all responsibilities no matter how busy she is. Out of all her priorities, taking care of Rionne, her younger sister, is the most important one for her,

           A memory from last year still haunts Dei for the fear it may happen again. She does everything she can to prevent it. She shall do whatever it takes to protect everyone she cares for, most especially her sister.

           Fear is a deceptive emotion Dei has to deal with. Either it may immobilize her from carrying out the things she must accomplish, or it can turn into a driving force for her to gain the strength she needs to overcome the challenges.

          This short story is an attempt to raise more awareness and fight against the stigma about an issue. Dei’s Treasured Trophy shares values about resilience, self-love, friendship, family ties, and faith in God.

Dei’s Treasured Trophy

           “CONGRATS for your great performance in Olympics Ann! Ibang level ka na talaga!!!!THAT’S MY BESTFRIEND!!!!Share your stories about your games and experiences sa bonding natin ha. I miiiiiss youuuu! Let’s catch up soon please!”

           Dei types her message and presses the enter button. Last time she saw her was a week before her month-long training in South Korea then Ann flew to Hong Kong for the competition. Her best friend replies, “As soon as we get back home, promise! See you soon Dei! (^_^)”. It’s amusing how Ann still adds emoticon even when most online users choose emoji nowadays.

           She switches the tab from Facebook to a WordPress login page. She finishes her deadline for one of her regular freelance projects. Her blog posts about the top 10 most romantic Coldplay songs is due tonight. Dei transfers her revised draft and saves it there for pending review of her editor. It was hard for her choosing her top 10, as she loves all their songs. Also, she is a huge fangirl of Chris Martin. ”Iba talaga feels ng mga kanta nila!Oh I hope Coldplay comes back here…” she mutters to herself.

           She then opens Audacity and polishes an audio file by reducing the noise background and adding more echo. No matter how confusing the uploaded files are in the track control panel, she handles everything like a pro. She saves and sends the audio file to a client who hired her as a voice-over talent.

           Her spare time for this month is more than what she scheduled first. Dei wonders if she can do an additional freelance project. She opens her Facebook and scrolls down to see posts in a group of local freelance talents searching for auditions and casting. She finds a workshop offered by an entertainment agency. A director Dei will never forget in her life will conduct it. She has been a talent appearing in commercials and TV shows. Several months has passed but she still remembers his response after she told that director she is just an extra in those projects.

           He asked her experiences because he mentioned her familiarity despite her lack of self-confidence. The director likes her wit and spontaneity in an impromptu comedic act she did for her audition.

           “Anak, support ang tawag sayo, hindi extra.Those scenes need your role as a support to be complete. I see a future phenomenal star in you. We can further improve your talents once you believe more in yourself.”

           He was willing to train her under his talent pool. Dei wanted to say yes and commit that time because it is one of her dreams to enter the showbiz industry. However, she is still an incoming fourth year student in college that time around. She cannot afford to fill her schedule more than what she can do and what her time allows.

            “Well, I cannot get sad over a missed opportunity. Priorities first!”She browses her own YouTube channel. It is one of her so-called happy distraction when she feels down or is about to feel that way.It has been a long time since her last posted video.

             “I miss sharing more videos to my ten supporters.” She laughs loudly.

             Dei positions her camera with the tripod. She acts like a model in front of the mirror. Her full bangs almost covers her expressive dark brown eyes. Her black hair is an inch past her shoulders. She thinks of dropping by a salon to trim her hair next week. Her brown and fair complexion epitomizes a morena Filipina beauty. Her sunshine smile shows her excitement for her next video.

             She tries to mimic first different artists’ voices and body languages. Then, she impersonates Jessa Zaragosa, Shakira, and Jaya as she sings their songs. Next, she records herself dubsmashing to Kris Aquino’s lines. She gets distracted whenever she laughs hard so she pauses first the recording. Dei decides to record everything in one go for each personality. It takes a longer time for her editing the raw videos because she finds herself funny for her all out on-cam performances. Indeed, she loves making people happy and this is one of her unique ways to do so.

             In the middle of uploading her newest video in YouTube, Skype notifies an incoming call.Their parents calling her. Dei expects this call as their parents do it every day.

             She answers the call and she’s thrilled to tell them a good news. Her parents are smiling as she sees them on her laptop screen despite of their tired and drowsy eyes. She kisses and touches them through the screen. “Hello po Ma! Pa! I love you so much! I miss you po!” She wishes to take away their tiredness with her simple gestures.

            “Dei, how is our ever responsible daughter? Do you even have enough hours of sleep? Do you rest between your busy schedule? Sobrang dami mo kasing ginagawa.” Her mother cannot hide her concerns.

             “Of course po Ma! I need my beauty rest so I should not be stressed with school and my freelance projects.Di po ako pwede magmukhang haggard!”

              Her father laughs as if he did not laugh for a long time. “We feel like we are with you whenever we video call. By the way Dei, what is the good news you want share? You chat about it last time.”

              She tells them to wait for a minute. Returning with a small trophy, she exclaims “Here it is Pa, Ma! This is from our college department. I can’t believe I am one of the three President’s Lister! They gave a trophy to each of us. Umaasenso di ba? Di na lang po sila pa-certificate.They said not every semester they have President’s Lister so this is how they celebrate it with us. This is my treasured trophy!”

             “We are so proud of you sweetie! Keep up the good work! This is why we support your freelance projects. You know your priorities well, Dei. You told us before about how difficult are your school works. Here you are now! Your sacrifices are rewarded! Ang galing at sipag mo talaga!” her father beams with much pride.

             “Thank you po, Ma!Pa!Uhmmm…May I…May I ask something?”

           “What is it?”

           “I know I asked this last time but…when will you come back home? If only Dubai is just a tricycle away, I and Rionne will visit you there every day.”

           “Dei…” her mother tries to smile as she holds back her tears. If only they have a choice, the couple will stay with their two daughters. “Dei, we love to be there with you and Rionne but we still need to save more. We used almost all our savings for the medical bill of your sister last year. We want to go home too, believe us…but I hope you will understand.”

           “How is your little sister doing recently? Do not forget her medicines. Ask her if she feels anything wrong and tell us if you need more help. We will do everything to prevent what happened last year, whatever it takes.” Her father gives her assurance.

           “I always take care of Rionne, Ma, Pa. Don’t worry about her. She knows when she must take her medicines. I don’t even need to remind her about it. She is doing well in school. Her grades are within line of nine. Her weekends are filled with either her extra-curricular activities or bonding with her friends or with me. She enjoys doing everything! I’m happy hearing stories of how her day went. If she feels bad about something, she opens up to me. She fulfills her promise of not keeping any secret from me. If only she knows you will call this time, she will not attend her meeting in Student Supreme Council. She misses you too so much! ”She tells them honestly about her sister’s current situation.

           “Thank you for taking care of her Dei no matter how busy you are. You always make time for people you love. We are so blessed to have you and Rionne as our daughters.”

           They talk for hours until she did not notice her video is uploaded in YouTube.

                                                          ***

           “Every time you look at that trophy, Ate, you’re very proud of that achievement and clean the dusts off every week. Ang cute mo! Hahahaha!” She teases her Ate Dei when she sees her cleaning in their living room. She offers to help her but her older sister just requested her to wash the dishes, into which she follows. Rionne enters her room after her sister cleaned their entire house. She wants to finish her school works and other tasks in her extra-curricular activities.

           After Dei cleaned, she knocks at her sister’s room. Rionne says she can come in. She sees her sister with her books, handouts, and other paperwork while she keeps away the seven book-series about themagical journey of the chosen boy to defeat a dark lord. Her Ate Dei gave that book set.

           Rionne sits down and focuses on her laptop. Maybe she is finishing a schoolwork, as Dei thought. She bought the book set last week and her sister already told her the summary of every book this morning. Her sister even delivered lines, word by word, from her favorite scenes and characters.

            “How did she finish it all? Didn’t she just prepared and competed for her inter-school general knowledge quiz bee last week?” Dei cannot imagine how her sister, a junior highschool student, balances her time as if she is a working adult.  Then, she recalls Rionne’s doctor told her before it is normal for her to excel in multitasking, a common ground of those with her medical condition. Dr. Mejia even emphasized they are natural achievers and majority of them have high IQ but they need to improve more their EQ.

             Suddenly, A loud hit distracts Dei.

             Rionne hits her table hard with her first that it surprises them both. She is used seeing her sister blaming herself with her mistakes but the pains never lessen every time it happens. When things do not go well according to what she expects, she do things impulsively which she regrets later on. Dei wishes her words and hugs are more than enough to remind her sister that her worth is more than all her achievements combined and every setbacks she encountered. Deiloves Rionne so much for who her sister is.

             Dei puts away her other books. Her sister’s collection includes fictions from contemporary Filipino writers like Grace Chong, Merlinda Bobis, Miguel Syjuco, Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo, Dean Francis Alfar and from Filipino classic writers such as Jose Garcia Villa, Nick Joaquin, Liwayway Arceo, and Lualhati Bautista. She also has non-fiction books about self-help and financial literacy from Bro. Bo Sanchez and Chinkee Tan, respectively.

           Dei scans her sister’s laptop and notices she just posted a question in a Facebook group about photography and another opened tab is Venus Raj’s testimonial about her Christian faith. Her sister is very open to her after what happened last year. It was her doctor’s advice to read her online posts. It was their parents’ request to see her browsing history given if her sister shows unusual behavior. She opens a recently closed tab, sees an email, asks permission if she can read it. Her sister nods. The email is a short notice of thanking Rionne for her participation but they regret to say her sister did not make it in the cut-off for their school’s final selection of their debate team. Now she understands what made her hit her fist so hard on the table.

            Dei looks over the room trying to find anything, which can help her, to make her sister feel better. She stops at the books she bought for Rionne. It is her sister’s first set of books from a foreign author. Her sister placed them at the center space of the cabinet turned to a mini-library. She can’t forget how much her sister loves to have it but the complete set is too expensive for her. It was just like yesterday when her sister jumped out of joy when she gave it on her birthday.

             For Rionne, she saw again how generous and thoughtful her Ate Dei is. For Dei, she bought the books not only because her sister wants it but because she always sees the magic in her as she excels in things she does because of her passion. She sees the magic in her heart because she never loses her sincerity, goodness, and faith in God…despite of everything that happened last year. 

             “Last year? Why am I still thinking about it Wala na yun! Rionne is okay now. We are happy now...”she tries to pacify her own fears.

              She approaches her sister slowly. She needs to make sure first her sister wants to be hugged. At times, Rionne pushes her away not because her sister likes to do it but because it is one of the impulsive reactions of her extreme mood swings brought by her medical condition.

              Dei shakes her head and reminds herself,“I must pull myself together! This is not the time to be scared! Rionne needs me more now!”

               She needs to be strong for her because they do not have anyone with them. She needs to be strong because the situation will get worse if she gives up. She needs to be strong because she loves her so much, she cannot bear to see her sister getting more hurt and angry.

              She pats her sister’s head gently. Her sister looks at her and hugs her so tight. Rionne cries on her older sister’s shoulder. That is her haven and refuge. It is and always her Ate Dei who comforts her immediately in times she crashes down in her own thoughts and feelings. She keeps on reminding her sister she is doing her best. She is very gentle to Rionne. Slowly, her sister calms down and stops overthinking.

              Unexpectedly, her sister breaks the silence and changes her tone. “You are so sweet and kind Ate! Whoever you choose among those guys who tries to win your heart, he’s such a lucky one!”

              Dei laughs and pinches her sister’s cheek. “Dear, your Ate Dei has a lot of priorities and lovelife is not included in it! Hahahaha! Pinapamigay mo na ba ako? I am happy with my life now and I do not need a guy to complete me. Bonus na lang pag may ibigay si Lord.I am happy chasing my dreams. I am happy with our family. I am happy you are here with me, Rionne.”

              “The way you call my name is my favorite unlike how everyone else calls me, Ate. It rhymes with lion and your pronunciation feels like I am a royalty.” her sister chuckles.

              “Out of everything I said, that’s the only thing you heard? Hahaha!” Dei giggles and hugs her sister. She loves her so much. She realizes she loves her more after she wasn’t home last year for two months. Her giggles and smiles turned to a neutral expression. Fear crawls in her heart. If only it was that easy to forget why Rionne was away from them for two months... She will make sure it will not happen again. She will cross all the oceans just for her sister. 

              “Lord, please make that the last time…Do not ever let it happen again…”Dei prays as she pleads in her deepest thoughts.

                                                        ****

           “That is the end of my report. Do you have questions? Any clarification?” Dei tries to stand confidently in front of their class. Her blockmates do not have a single clue about her cold and uneasy hands. She prepared enough for this report but she is not sure if she did well. She believes she gave her best but this report is different because their professor has a higher standard compared to what she was used to with her other subjects.

           Dei feels awkward with the deafening silence in their room that she can hear the AC unit and ticking of the room’s clock. Her blockmates are active participants but she feels they are too timid now to share their ideas. She clears her throat and asks instead about their personal goal in relation to self-actualization according to Abraham Maslow’s theory, which was about her report. One of them raises his hand and shares his ultimate dream to serve his hometown by becoming a successful businessman. She nods and smiles as he answers because she admires his generosity.

           ”Parang autistic talaga yang nagmamarunong na yan. Ang bipolar ng mood.”Dei hears someone from the front row whispers to his seatmate. It gets into her nerve but she maintains her composure. She says thank you to her classmate who shared his personal goal.

           “Guys, I want to share you one of my personal goals. I want to be a vocal and active mental health advocate with my own foundation to raise awareness about this issue and fight the stigma in our country. I dream that one day, no one will be scared to consult experts as people might say they are going crazy. I want to see that day we will validate everyone’s feelings to prevent triggering them. We may start doing this by avoid using words like autistic and bipolar to mock and insult those we don’t like.Please, let’s be more sensible in our words.” She says it all firmly without mentioning about her blockmates whom she heard those words from.

           “Ms. Dei Archangel, I like how you delivered your report even if you did not discuss further the other details. Nevertheless, what I like most from what I heard today is your mental health advocacy. Make that dream of having your own foundation into a reality.”their professor commends Dei.

                                                        ****

              Rionne storms in their living room as soon as she comes home from school. Dei hears her ranting about the periodical exam she failed in the subject she struggles most after her adviser talks to her privately. Her sister expects a low score but not below the passing mark. In her entire student life, that is her first time to fail an exam. It shocks Rionne because she did not see it coming.

              She sees her sister’s eyes turn berserk, as if this is another person and not her sister at all.She recalls all the painful words she heard long before. Her sister curses her classmates and yells angrily how insensitive they are for smart-shaming her and calling her names.

               Rionne becomes hysterical and impulsive. Dei sees how she grabs that trophy and flower vase. She tries to stop her but her sister throws both on the wall. Its sharp pieces scratches and wounds her. She runs toward her sister to prevent hurting herself more. Her sister shouts the words she is scared to hear the most.

              “I AM A FAILURE!!!! I AM USELESS!!!!! I WANT TO DIE!!!!!”

              Rionne becomes uncontrollable. Dei did not feel her tears flowing when she sees her sister gets hurt, scared, confused, and mad at herself.She wipes her tears and tries to calm down her sister in her arms. She hugs her tightly even if her sister pushes her away. She remains strong even if she is hurting, physically, emotionally, and mentally. She endures it all rather than not to see her sister again in their home for two months.This is the non-negotiable promise she plants in her heart and she will never compromise it no matter what happens.

              In the middle of pacifying Rionne, painful memories last year floods back in Dei’s mind. It was as if everything happened yesterday. She remembers clearly how her sister broke down because a friend she trusts backstabbed her. They cannot calm her down easily.

              She started to hurt herself. Minutes later, she punches her parents and Dei. For the next hours, she tried to rush out of their front door. She keeps on shouting she wants to die. She wanted to end it all by running towards a fast moving car. Their father hugged her tight despite all the struggles she is doing to fight against him.

    ��         For Dei, it felt like an eternal torture to see her family that way until her sister tires herself. Their mother caresses her hair and hugs her until she calms down. Dei kisses her on the forehead and says, “Everything will be alright dear Rionne. Sleep and rest first.”

              Their parents contacted her psychiatrist. Dei saw how her parents cried and hugged each other as if the world turned its back on them. She asked why and what did he said, but they did not answer her.

              “Dei, we will go to Dr. Mejia. He wants to see Rionne as soon as possible.” Endless questions and thoughts run across Dei’s mind but she cannot do anything except to oblige to her parents’ instruction.They waited for her to wake up and give her the first aid medication the psychiatrist recommended to help stabilize her mood in a breakdown episode.

              Inside the clinic of Dr. Mejia, he talked first to her sister. It went for more than 30 minutes perhaps, as Dei estimated. She was outside and became more impatient while waiting. She stood up and walked back and forth in the hallway. She got more anxious because the regular check-ups with Rionne’s psychiatrist do not usually take this long.He then asked for their parents in the clinic. Dei wanted to barge in that door separating her and her sister whom she feels is terrified silently. She wanted to know everything. What treatment will the psychiatrist give her this time around?

              At last, after more than an hour of waiting, Dr. Mejia asked Dei to be inside the clinic and sit beside Rionne. Her sister hugged her, turned to her doctor, and said, “Can my Ate be with me there? If she is not allowed to stay with me, then please let her visit me at least every week…” Tears formed in her sister’s eyes.

              Confusion, shock, fear, and betrayal---Dei does not know what exactly she feels at that moment or if she feels everything at once.She loses her temper and firmly said, “Where will you bring her??!! What is going here??!! CAN YOU JUST PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW??!!” Her emotions took its toll on Dei. If there is something worst to happen, then she needs to know it right at that moment.

              Dr. Mejia waited for her to calm down. When she came back to her senses, he explained in details. “Dei, we need to treat Rionne in a psychiatric facility. Her bipolar disorder becomes full blown with the recent event that triggered her. I cannot guarantee how long she must stay there because it will depend if she responds better to the treatments we will give. We need to do this to observe her round the clock to provide her immediate attention. Do not worry, the facility has trained and kind staffs. They have different worthwhile activities on a daily, weekly, and monthly routine. Your family can visit her regularly within the hours they allow. If you have questions and concerns, you may ask now or contact me in the mobile number I gave your parents.”

              Dei’s heart sank. The thought of not seeing Rionne for a day already worried and scared her to death. Who will take care of her? Can they handle her if she has her episodes of breaking down and impulsiveness? Will they know if she is depressed like how she feels her sister just by looking at her in one glance? Do they have the patience to comfort her in her worst and darkest days? She wanted to refuse. She wanted to shout and say they will just bring her home.

              However, the harsh reality slapped her in that moment---their family cannot take care of Rionne’s worsening mental health condition. That was why her psychiatrist recommended admitting her there as the best or probably the only option left for them.

              Dr. Mejia continued, “People with bipolar disorder are a gift for everyone but they see themselves as a curse for themselves. Their extreme mood swings can affect their normal lives which is why we need to balance it. They love sharing their time and efforts doing things they love and for the people they love.” He looked at her sister and smiled, “In most cases, those diagnosed like Rionne are achievers. They want to aim high every time and make people happy. Failing on that exam hurts her so much and triggers her condition, so she feels it is the end for her. The bright side though is even if there is no known and proven cure yet for bipolar disorder, treatments are available for them to live a normal and productive life. Stories of successful personalities with bipolar disorder such as Demi Lovato inspires her.

              “Dei, Rionne aims to have a balance life. She believes she will overcome her mental health challenges. Let us give your sister a fighting chance.” Dr. Mejia said those words as if it was so easy for her to just let go of her sister and allow other people to take care of her. It did not sit well with her. She wants to refuse but she cannot think of a better way to treat her sister.

              Rionne hits her chest lighty with her fist. “Ako pa! I can do that Ate Dei! Don’t worry about me. I will behave there so I can go home soon and we can bond again!”

              Dei did not hold back her tears anymore. She cried while smiling and hugged her sister. She feels ashamed of herself for not trusting Rionne enough. If her sister is this strong, then she needs to be stronger too for her. She agreed to the option after seeing the courage in her sister’s eyes.

              For the following days, it has been a regular routine for their family to visit her every day. On weekdays, they went there together in the psychiatric facility. Their parents wanted to see her every single day but their free time is only after their office hours. The visiting hours in the psychiatric facility only allow from morning to afternoon.

              On weekdays, Dei went there after her classes. On other days, she was too busy with her school works but she still found ways to visit even if she needs to leave earlier from the psychiatric facility.

              Rionne shared different stories based on what happened that day. She told Dei excitedly how it was easy to be friends with most of the patients in the psychiatric facility. She hated how she must drink her medicines every morning, lunch, and night. She enjoyed the activities too like outdoor and board games, arts and crafts sessions, acting workshop, dancing lessons. On some days, she ran towards Dei crying because she said other patients inside shouted at her and they want to pick a fight against her. There are times too when she apologized to her Ate Dei for not behaving well that is why the staff need to isolate her from the other patients until she calms down.

              “When will I come home Ate? I miss papa, mama, and of course, I miss you so much!” Not a single day that passed whenever Dei visits, Rionne asked this question with much longing and impatience.

              “Soon…just promise me you are behaving every day here so Dr. Mejia can see you are ready to come home soon.” Dei smiled at her with much love and assurance.

              In all her visits to Rionne, she was all smiles in listening to her story. She was thrilled too sharing her own experiences, as if catching up with a friend she did not see for years even if she visits her sister every day. Whenever the staff reminded them visiting hours is over, her sister always asked for just few seconds to hug her and tell her she loves her Ate Dei so much. She hugs her back and sees her going inside. A thick metal door closed wherein she feels the patients are like are prisoners. One of the staff explained to her psychiatric facilities need that design for the doors in case anyone breaks down and tries to escape. The staff lets visitors watch the patients through the CCTV monitor. Dei refused to look at it because she does not want to have a memory of her sister inside the psychiatric facility.

              As soon as she left the main gate of the psychiatric facility, she cried silently. She failed containing those overwhelming emotions even if she was already used to that exhausting set-up. She did not know anymore at that moment if those tears are out of longing, pain, regret, or hatred at herself for not protecting her sister enough. What she was sure of is she will never give up because Rionne herself is fighting with all she got. Indeed, Dei is the greatest pretender whenever she visits her sister.

              This routine went on for days, weeks, and two months.

              Finally, Dr. Mejia called them. He called them every week to give update about their youngest daughter’s progress and lapses. That time though, was a different phone call. “Mr. and Mrs. Archangel, Rionne responded positively to the treatments we gave her. In fact, I earlier estimated she might stay for at least six months. Her determination to be well and desire to come back home sped up her treatment. You may settle her bill in the psychiatric facility so she will be discharged within this day.”

              Their family went hurriedly to the psychiatric facility to tell the good news to Rionne. Their parents went to the billing department. Few minutes later, they came out with worried look on their faces. The bill cost nearly half a million pesos. They can pay for the amount but that means they have to sell their hard-earned property in the province of their parents and use their savings. Without any hesitation, they started calling their friends who said before they wanted to buy that property.

              “Dei, please stay here first. We will find means to get Rionne out and bring her home within this day.” Their parents gave her assurance.

              Dei went to her sister first while waiting for their parents. “Uuwi na tayo mamaya! You are brave and strong Rionne! Dr. Mejia said many good things about you. Ate is so proud of you, dear!”

              “What did I tell you Ate! Ako pa! At last, I can come home!! Yaaaay!! We will watch movies, cook meals, bike around the village, or just sleep all day long! Hahaha!” Her sister hugged her so tight she felt she was about to be squeezed.

              “I promise you Ate Dei, I won’t come back here again as patient. If I will return here, I want to help others enduring bipolar disorder too like me.” Rionne beamed with much confidence.

              “Yes, you will not come back in a psychiatric facility again…”

              The medical bill almost left their family with nothing in their finances. This pushed her parents to accept the offer to work in Dubai so they won’t struggle in their everyday needs. This is also the same reason Dei works as a freelancer in her spare time from school. Despite all the challenges they experienced last year, it made their family ties closer. She loves the improvements from her sister after the treatments inside the psychiatric facility.

              Never did Dei anticipate her sister might have another breakdown.

              She continues to pacify her sister after she shakes off those memories she do not want to happen again.“Sssshhhh, everything will be alright dear Rionne. You promised me something last year…You will not come back there again. You can cry. You can tell me everything. Just ple--- just please don’t hurt yourself. I love you…Ate Dei loves you so much and I will do everything to take care and protect you…even from yourself.” She whispered lovingly to her while her voice cracks.

              Dei starts humming Rionne’s favorite song. It was from a popular animated movie about a Greek demigod’s journey as he believes he can go far in reaching his dreams.Few minutes later, her sister stops struggling. She gives her the medicine into which she takes in. She sings the lyrics and she looks at her.Her sister hugs her and cries in her shoulder. She is too tired so they sat on the couch as she continues to singing. After the song, Rionne sleeps comfortably in her Ate Dei’s caring hug. She wraps her sister’s right arm on her shoulder and supports her upper body. She brings her sister to her room in that position and tucks her to bed.

              “I love you talaga Ate Dei...”Rionne murmurs in her sleep.

              Dei brushes her hair and sings her a lullaby. “Thank God she calms down.”She thought. She treats her sister’s scratches and tiny wounds from breaking the vase and trophy with their first aid kit. Her mother reminds her to prepare that in case something happens. She wishes before she will only use it on herself, and not on her sister.She is too tired as well so she tucks herself beside her sister in bed, hugs Rionne gently, and closes her eyes to rest.

              It has been a long day for Dei.

                                                           *****

              “I always need to be strong enough for them but I feel like I am about to give up soon…” Dei types these words and clicks the tweet button.

              21 people follows her private account. All of them are her close friends. She trust them with her life. Although, most of them are inactive in Twitter so Dei finds it more comfortable releasing her thoughts in that social media platform.

              What Dei doesn’t know is Ann sees that tweet after 5 hours. Her bestfriend replies to her tweet and sends her a direct message in Twitter. Ann feels anxious just waiting for her to reply to she calls her through mobile phone. Dei stares blankly at her phone. Her athletic best friend has fast reflexes in sports and sharp intuition in connecting to friends. She knows at that point Ann would want to ask if she is okay and what is happening. She wants to pick up her phone and talk to her but she does not know what to say at all. She just turns off her phone and stares blankly at the ceiling of her room, contemplating about her thoughts and emotions.

              Suddenly, she feels her tears flowing but she is not sobbing. Her neutral expression seems to show her mind and heart made her numb.

              Did she become too strong that she did not notice her tears anymore? She doesn’t know but she is certain she wants to fight more.

              She needs this time all alone for herself, even just for while. She does not track of the time because at this moment, she wants to clear her mind to gather her strength and focus again.

              When her emotions subside a bit, Dei comes out of her room to prepare their dinner. She likes cooking more than Rionne does. Even though her sister does not cook much, she always help her in kitchen. She checks the ingredients. Some are not enough so she sends her sister to an errand to buy some ingredients for their meal.

              Not long after her sister went out, she hears repeated doorbells. She thinks may be Rionne gets confuse with the list she gave and will ask about it.

              She opens the gate and sees Ann. “We are supposed to meet next week with our catch-up lunch but you made me so worried today! You aren’t replying to my texts and chats. You didn’t answer my calls until your phone becomes attended. I called your landline and it was Rionne who answered. She said you were in your room this whole afternoon. I told her not to mention to you I will visit tonight.” Ann catches her breath after talking too fast.“We’re best friends! Why did you not tell it to me? Since when did you start feeling that way…I mean like what you tweeted?” Ann motions they enter their home to talk about it. Her best friend lets her sit on the couch first.

              Ann softens her voice and with a more gentle tone, she says, “Ano bang nangyari? How can I help you? I know there is something wrong the moment I saw your tweet…If you are not yet ready to share it now, we can watch movies here with these DVD copies I bought.”

              Dei sighs and turns to her. Her best friend sees her gloomy eyes. “I need to fight back. I must be stronger but it feels like I am running out of strength to fight anymore. Nakakapagod pala.It feels like I am about to lose myself even if I still want to fight.” She admits.

              She badly wants to cry but she feels her heart toughened from everything she went through especially in taking care of Rionne. It is nearly a year now since she looks after her sister all by herself. Their parents hesitated to go to Dubai but she assured them she could protect her sister.

              Ann lets her best friend vent out all her thoughts to her. They are childhood friends and they went to the same school until they graduated from high school. Dei’s university gave her a 50% scholarship. Ann chose her current university because the table tennis and other sports programs impressed her. Even if they are not from the same university now in college, their friendship remains strong as ever. They even consider themselves twin sisters by heart. Ann knows something is bothering her best friend even before she posted that tweet. She listens intently to her. Her best friend looks at her as if Dei is waiting to hear an advice or words of encouragement.

              “Before I reached my dream of playing in Olympics, I experienced failures, rejections, disappointments, and setbacks.” Ann clears her throat as she feels her voice becomes shaky.“I even questioned myself that even I love playing table tennis, can I still continue? I realize Dei you cannot really stop from doing what you love. You just need to rest first, gather strength, and pray every day to focus on your goals.”

              Ann sees the photo of their family beside their landline phone. She takes it and shows to her best friend. “I know how much you love you love your family. Let that love become the driving force for you to continue whatever happens. All of us, your friends, are always here to remind you how strong you are but sometimes you need to take a break and rest first. I cannot imagine how difficult your responsibilities are but I know you can do them all.

              “I believe in you. God trusts you so much and He never gives more than what you can bear.” Ann smiles and gives her the photo. Dei hugs her and smiles. No need for her to cry more after she feels lighter in her heart.

              “Thank you Ann for always telling me the words I need to hear at the most crucial times. Para kang si Doc Gia na level kung makapag-advice.” Dei laughs heartily. Thank God, she has Ann as her best friend.

                                                        ****

              Dei is uncomfortable with Rionne’s silence. Her sister seems to be thinking too much again. She calls her attention.

              “Dear, what’s wrong? I know when you are overthinking. I know when you are uncomfortable with anything. What is our promise? No secrets, right?”

              “I can’t really hide anything from you Ate…I am sorry for breaking your favorite trophy when I---“

              Dei is relieved. At least, Rionne worries over a less important thing. She stops what her sister is saying as she pulls her closer and looks into her eyes.

              “That trophy is nothing compared to the treasured trophy I have. Do you know what it is?” Rionne shakes her head gesturing no as a response. Dei smiles widely, pats her head, and hugs her tightly.

              “Seeing you live your life in the best way you can. You accept your flaws and turn it into your strength. That is Ate Dei’s treasured trophy, Rionne. That is my true trophy. I couldn’t be more proud of you!”

              “I will fulfill all my dreams and I will always say thank you for everything Ate Dei. Watch me shine and fly!”

                                                                  ****

#maine mendoza #maine #Carlos Palanca #Palanca

[agirlnamedally]

Allyyyy I start hsc on Monday and I'm supppppeeer nervous. I have been studying a lot but ofc enjoying my time with everyone at the library and talking etc. I'm stressing about my atar bc I really want to get in to social work bc I really wanna help people :((((( I wanna do psych but it's 99!!!!!

My tips for anyone starting Year 12/HSC/Senior Year:

Know that it’s perfectly normal to be nervous! I’m pretty sure I was scared to start VCE from Year 7 onwards, it always seemed like this giant, scary, looming monster that would destroy my happiness and suck out my soul like a dementor. Mostly, I just assumed I would have no free time, wouldn’t be able to keep up with the workload, and would fail absolutely everything.

Then, something funny happened. Year 11 came around and I realised… nothing had changed. The work might have been harder, but I had done the required training (aka Years 7-10) and was fully equipped with the skills to handle it. The transition from Year 10 to Year 11, and then again from 11 to 12, is really not that significant or scary! Your workload might increase a tiny bit, because (and in hindsight now I can look back and 100% support this) practice really does make perfect. Teachers don’t make you write 100 essays because they hate you and want you to be miserable or have no social life, it’s because they want you to be a good writer, but more than that, they know that the more essays you write, the easier it will be for you to write one come exam time. It will be less stressful, less terrifying and so much simpler to just regurgitate a piece of writing you’ve practically memorised because you’ve ingrained it into your memory throughout the year. That’s just an example for say English or Literature, but I think the same thing applies for all subjects, no matter how you’re tested. Practice makes perfect. Or at least, practice makes progress, haha.

Now, ATARs. Those finicky little bastards. I’m not going to tell you to forget about it, because I know that when I was in the midst of VCE it was always on my mind. I even had older kids, who had already graduated, constantly telling me how insignificant it was and that it wouldn’t matter one year from now, but I didn’t believe any of that. Now, looking back, I know that they were right. In terms of measuring your intelligence or potential for future career success, ATARs mean nothing. No matter what score you get, I promise you, you can go on and be anything you want to be in life. There will always be obstacles and challenges between you and your dreams, but if you want something and you’re willing to work hard and be nice to others, nothing can stop you. The only difference an ATAR can make is the journey and how you go about it. The only thing an ATAR determines is which course you might do. You might have your heart set on a dream course with a super high ATAR. If you want to shoot for that, go for it! Just know that if your number is lower, there are still ways to pursue it. You can take a gap year, travel, discover the world and find out who you are, uncover your passions, gain some experience. Do a TAFE course, start somewhere else, transfer. Defer it, reject it, volunteer somewhere, change your entire perspective on life, completely change directions. You still have the choice. Unis will often accept someone who didn’t get a first or second round offer initially as a mid-year enrolment, or you could do a semester or two somewhere else and then jump across and hopefully they’ll let you keep those credits under your belt. You may not even want to go to uni! There are many many options and paths you can take, don’t let a number limit or define your future.

Personally, I knew I wanted to further my education but wasn’t entirely set on any particular existing occupation. I knew my two favourite subjects were Psychology and Health and Human Development, but that I also enjoyed writing for English, so I could envision myself happily doing something that encompassed those things. For me, an Arts degree was the perfect choice because it allows you to dip your toes into many different areas of study, test the waters of various fields before arriving at a favourite – your major. The course I most had my heart set on had a pretty high entry score, one which I actually thought I had no possible chance of achieving, but I set it as my goal anyway because as I was so undecided, I didn’t want to ‘limit myself’ (typical Year 12 brain thinking). It worked out wonderfully for me, somehow I found the drive and ended up doing a lot better than I’d expected, really surprising myself (and probably everyone else) and guaranteeing a spot in the course. However, I wholeheartedly believe that had I not achieved the score I did, had I gone to a different university or course, or even taken some time off from studying, I would be just as happy. I would have found another way to continue learning, whether it be by sitting in a lecture theatre or travelling to see it myself. I could have enrolled in a different course, disappointed in myself and thinking it was only temporary, and ended up LOVING it. Maybe even more than this course! Who knows? These are the kinds of ‘what if’s and ‘maybe’s that make my brain want to explode. Being a human can be exhausting.

Whether you have a goal course you’re hoping to get entry for, a dream uni, hopes of studying abroad, a plan to defer for a year or no desire to study at all – but they’re all okay and all achievable! No matter what it is you want in life, there are ways to get there. Not just one, but limitless varying courses of action you can follow. One might be more direct, but it might also be more boring, or less challenging. It might grow you less as a person, or prevent you from meeting some really interesting people that another path will introduce you to.

Year 12 is an awesome time. It can be stressful, overwhelming, demanding, sleepless. It can invoke self-doubt, nostalgia, fear of plummeting into the depths of the unknown (your future) and leaving behind the safety and security of routine (your past). However, it can also be rewarding, exciting, bonding, enriching, growing and deliriously fun. I say delirious because there will definitely be times when you and your friends are so overcome with work and anxiety that you just have to laugh. Misery loves company and Year 12 is proof of that. Study dates are perfect for simultaneously motivating each other and collectively crying into the bowl of chocolate you just devoured. I’m probably not painting the best picture here, but seriously, it can be a terrific time.

If I could give you one piece of advice for entering VCE, it’s to maintain a balance. Balance in life is the key here, because otherwise you will either burn out from too much studying, fall behind from not enough, get sick from not taking care of yourself, or something else just as un-fun. When you’re studying, dedicate proportionate amounts of time or energy to subjects depending on their current level of significance. If possible, do assignments as soon as you get them, but prioritise the ones that are due first or worth the most. More importantly, ensure you have balance throughout your whole life, holistically. It’s just as important to take care of your mental, social and physical well-being as it is to reach your education goals. Make the time to keep active, even if it seems like there is none. I can’t even tell you how beneficial it is to get outside, clear your head and get your heart rate up. Endorphins are your best friend and a powerful stress-buster, so keep a pair of runners at the ready. If you’re not a fan of solo workouts, can’t stay motivated or simply don’t enjoy it, I highly recommend joining a team sport! In fact, I recommend this for everyone, because it’s beneficial to your mental, social and physical health. All at once. Plus there’s the accountability factor – you can’t just skip the workout or hit snooze when you don’t feel like it  - you made a commitment and your teammates are counting on you! Honestly being a part of a group like that will make you feel so needed or wanted, and it’s great to make new friends or connect with like-minded people. SPORT RULES. Taking care of your physical health also means nourishing your body with the right foods, getting enough sleep and drinking plenty of water – all the basics. Back to balance – it’s also essential to dedicate time to doing things just for you. Bubble baths are a great choice, there’s also reading, meditation, getting a massage or mani-pedi, having a movie night, seeing a friend, anything that makes you feel relaxed, happy and at peace. These are the things that keep you going! Imagine a pie chat, split into 3 sections. One section is school and schoolwork, one is health and fitness, and the last is dedicated to me-time or fun activities. The three sections represent mental, physical and social wellbeing = all equally important and necessary for not only success, but holistic health in general. If you’re feeling stressed out, look at which of the three sections might be out of balance. Are you not getting enough sleep? Have too much on your plate? Need some alone time? Not fuelling your brain and body with enough or the right nutrition? Try to keep these things in check and remind yourself that they’re all significant and deserving of your attention.

Most of all, know that VCE is completely unique to your own experience. Like karma, you will get out only what you put in. You can make it an easy time, just for socialising and blowing off class, you can dedicate 110% of yourself to studying every waking hour, never lose a mark and never see anyone else, OR you can have the best of both worlds and strike that beautiful, sweet balance.

Decide what your own goals are. Make your own rules. Ask yourself what motivates you, and then go after it. Use this time to challenge yourself, grow as a person and exceed any expectations, limitations or barriers that have been set by anyone – including and especially yourself. It’s an exciting time that you should definitely make the most of, because it will be over before you know it. I know it’s hard, but try to forget about ATARs, or at least diminish the all-mighty power and holy-grail presence that it can take. It’s just a number. If you try your best, that’s all you need to do. I have complete faith in you anon, 

YOU CAN DO IT :D

[dazzledbyrob]

NEW INTERVIEW & PHOTOSHOOT BY GQ

Robert Pattinson Is Alive Again

The Twilight heartthrob seemed damned to be a brooding ex-vampire forever. But then he drove a stake through his career and got to work resurrecting it.

So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, we’re going to do ayahuasca together! Ayahuasca is an Amazonian hallucinogen that people take to journey to the center of themselves, usually with a shaman, usually on a retreat, and it is a totally normal and valid way for us to spend one of our two days together, I completely agree. Yes, Rob, let’s do it. For the great big stunt of our GQ cover story, let’s take great big doses of ayahuasca. Let’s slide down the gooey tunnels of our ids until we Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich. Then I look it up. There’s a really long period of your trip where you’re just vomiting. But we’re up for some vomiting! Nobody here is a newborn babe who can’t handle a little reverse peristalsis! We just met, after all, and what better way to get to know each other than a little kayak into each other’s insides? Me and Rob Pattinson! Vomiting up a storm! What a story! But—but—maybe all that vomiting would make it hard to talk? Maybe it would change our psyches irreparably and return us to our loved ones forever altered? It might, right? Back to the drawing board. But you know what they say: There are no wrong ideas in a brainstorm.

So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, we’re going to swim with sharks! No one’s done that, right? The best way we can get close to some edge of existence, he thinks, is to swim with sharks, daring them to eat us. I suggest that maybe ayahuasca brings us to the edge of existence, too? And wouldn’t it be hard for me to write this if one of us (me) got eaten by one of those sharks? Sure, sure, he gets it. Anyway, he says, “I’m afraid something will happen that makes me look like a pussy.” Which is fair, and so we’re not going to do it. So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, we’re going to a Russian spa in West Hollywood! Sure! Let’s sit together in a spa, me in my bathing suit and you, Rob Pattinson, in yours, and you can talk about your workout regimen, and I can tell you about the care and maintenance of my C-section scars! Both of them! Argh, but a friend told him he’d seen Justin Bieber there, and Pattinson was like, no way, he will not be Bieber-derivative, which I support. (And usually spas are gender-separated?)

So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, he’s gonna come to me! Yes, he wants to infiltrate my suburban life. How’s that for turning this whole thing on its head? He’ll come to where I have coffee every day, at the Able Baker, and we’ll have a latte and a cookie, then haul over to do camp pickup with the kids. Yes! Me and Rob Pattinson! In New Jersey! Yes, come on over, Rob. The kids get picked up at 3:50! Bring a snack or the younger one will bitch you out for hours! Shoot, no, he has to go to Paris to get photographed for his Dior campaign in two days, so that won’t work with my deadline.

Pattinson, bless him, brings an unfiltered, uncut fire to each idea. Me, I am getting whiplash from nodding vigorously as I consider them. I am excited just to bear witness to his enthusiasm for all the ways you could eat the world. But I am also inspired by him. He really wants us to walk out of here with an amazing plan. Here, incidentally, is a very quiet, virtually unknown café that he likes, just a few blocks from his house in some part of some part of Los Angeles. He asks that I don’t print where this is, since he comes here a lot, mostly because of the [privacy feature]. He sits here every day, same table, eating the same [house special scramble], hold the [thing that makes the scramble delicious], and he never sees anyone here, and he’d like to keep it that way. Sure, I say. Suddenly, his eyes are a fever. He knows what we’re going to do. “Let’s get fecal-matter transplants,” he says. This is roughly his ninth suggestion (I’ve spared you some) for how we might spend our time together, but it’s number one in experimental procedures that are not yet fully FDA-approved. He’s been reading about it—he reads about everything, from stories about psychology to linguistics to fecal matter—and he cannot stop thinking about the possibilities. “It works,” he insists. “You can have an athlete’s shit put inside you and then you’re an athlete afterwards.” Imagine that! An athlete’s shit! Turning you into an athlete! It’s real! It might be real. It’s probably not real. But he’s just read about a woman with chronic fatigue who did a DIY fecal transplant and now she is totally fine. In fact, someone Pattinson knows did it; he spoke to that someone just yesterday, and that someone’s life has changed materially as a result—he can’t tell me who it is, because that someone is someone, but my God, we need to do this. So here’s the deal: We’re going to transplant each other’s fecal matter! I will become more like Rob; Rob will become more like me. No one’s ever done that before, right?

I look up from my notebook and blink. He is rubbing the fine layer of stubble resting luckily on his jawline, which you could hang your dry cleaning on. We sit back and consider. You know, if this is too hard, we could just come here again, I say. Maybe we could just not do anything and just come here. He shakes his head. That won’t do. No, we’re going to do something. He stares at the iced coffee he ordered. He used to drink “a million” cups a day, but lately, since he turned 31, he finds that it’s making him crazy. “Yeah,” he says, “if I have a little bit too much, I’ll suddenly think the trapdoor in the bottom of my life is falling.” Plus, too much coffee is like truth serum for him (hey, what if we did truth serum?), but he still loves coffee. So far he’s had maybe one and a half fingers of a regular-size cup. He puts his fist up to his heart. “I already feel like I had a speedball.” He lets out a kind of cackling laugh after he says this—head back, launching upward—but it comes out almost like a moon-howl. He laughs like this after almost everything he says, which is an intense way to communicate. When he talks, he tugs on the chest hair near his clavicle so that the bits of skin attached to each follicle pull up and form a miniature mountain range. We sit perpendicular to each other, and he keeps on his Helmut Lang sunglasses. Sometimes he looks at me, but mostly he looks at his scramble and at his dog, Solo, whom he has brought along—he shares the dog with his romantic partner, the experimental British musician FKA Twigs—and who has a Mohawk. "I can commit so wholeheartedly because I think it’s so stressful being in a thing where you’re just constantly second-guessing everything all the time.” Okay, so a fecal transplant. Check. A doctor will creep his (or her!) way into our colons and replace our poop with each other’s poop. Why not? What do we have to risk, other than infection and death?

So it’s settled, I say. I am game for it. I was game for all the others, too, because this is exciting for me, for someone to be as into this as much as I am. Maybe he wants to do something he’s never done before, or see something he’s never seen before, or be someone he’s never been before. It seems like this is the only criterion for how he wants to spend our time, just as it seems to be the only common denominator among the movies he chooses to make now: It has to be something new. It has to deliver a real connection. It has to teach him something about himself and test him. His new movie—his first starring role in years, made by a pair of gifted young brothers named Ben and Josh Safdie—is definitely a test. It’s called Good Time, and it is a locomotive that will grab you by the chest hairs near your clavicle for 100 minutes; Pattinson classifies it as the “panic genre.” He plays a desperate low-level con artist in Queens trying to protect his little brother after a bank robbery gone wrong. Without giving too much away, let’s just say it’s intoxicating to watch someone never slow down over the course of 24 hours and not once in that time make a good decision. Yes, the new Rob Pattinson is defined by his willingness to go berserk or go home. But maybe it’s just on-screen. Already Pattinson is reconsidering the fecal matter. Fecal transplants probably aren’t something that can be arranged in a day, even when you’re Rob Pattinson. Probably you need a diagnosis code or something. They probably aren’t as easily accessible as a colonic, and at this point who hasn’t done a colonic with a journalist? Anyway, he adds, maybe with some menace, “if we did a swap, I don’t know if you’d be able to handle my shit.” As we continue to discuss ideas for our big something, I bat away my thought about what these ideas also have in common, which is that they all render me incapacitated, unable to ask him any questions, and him unable to answer any. We’d be in different rooms, or on a hallucinogen, or in the belly of a shark, or in surgery, for Chrissake. But no, it couldn’t be that. It has to be this: That after years of playing dead, Rob Pattinson feels alive again. Yes, that has to be it.

He spent his formative acting years suspended in Twilight, playing a vampire who mostly just stood there, brooding—an inert emo-reactor to his cis-mortal heroine, played by Kristen Stewart. If you’ve never heard of it, because you were in an underground prison with no access to the outside world, or even other prisoners, a brief recap: It’s about two co-dependent teenagers (one of whom has been a teenager for 100 years) in a super-toxic relationship that unfolds over five movies in the small town of Forks. The blood of this lonely, virginal teenage girl gives off a scent that is like heroin to this teenage vampire who lives there, meaning he wants to eat her but also that he wants to love her. By the end of the third movie, they still haven’t slept together. Finally, in movie four, the two have sex, which they feared might kill her. But she then immediately becomes pregnant, and that actually does kill her. What is the opposite of subtext? Did I mention the town where this takes place is called Forks? “When I find someone who I have an instinct about, I find it quite easy to completely give myself to that person.” When the cameras stopped rolling, Pattinson was surrounded by oceans of admirers who made his world small and paranoid. So you can maybe understand why, freed up by all of those coffins full of Twilight residuals, Pattinson is now doing what he’s always wanted to do: making movies that are relentless and dark and kinetic and subversive. He could’ve gone a lot of different ways after Twilight; the world loves a pallid British super-villain. But it would’ve been more standing still: the CGI, the green screens, the waiting around in his trailer. Plus, he says, “I think you have to have a specific type of confidence to be in those movies.” He was confident he didn’t. He couldn’t just stand there and be defiant, the way villains do. He couldn’t stay on one note and mean it.

Instead, he plunged himself into a series of gritty art-house movies, which, of course, is a strategy favored by just about every teen idol trying to go legit. But this is different in that he doesn’t appear to be picking these projects with a calculated eye toward prestige, or even edge. His recent films are unified primarily by the fact that they feature directors who are great and mostly unheralded, and characters who are a little scary to play. Hardly anyone saw any of these movies, and he says he never expected them to. The point wasn’t for people to see the movies. And so far, he’s been right nearly every time. So far, it appears that Rob Pattinson has killer taste. Cosmopolis, his first post-Twilight movie, gave him the chance to work with his lifelong hero and favorite director, David Cronenberg, and to try his hand at (a very dark sort of) comedy. His character, a nihilist finance bro in the age of Occupy Wall Street, sits in the back of a limo for the duration of the film. He loved Cronenberg. He loved working for his hero. But still, there wasn’t a lot of movement. Edward Cullen’s most notable attribute, besides his looks—powdered face, strong lip, clenched jaw, which would slice through his hand if he rested it there—was his stillness. After that, he wanted some motion. He wanted to floor it. He started noticing how supporting roles got to be wilder and more eccentric, how they weren’t subject to the stolid requirements of a leading man, so he went and did a bunch of those— The Rover, Queen of the Desert, The Lost City of Z —much smaller films that allowed him to move, tinker, alter his appearance. You could watch The Rover, a brutal Australian-made post-apocalyptic heist-revenge tale, without realizing until the credits roll that you’ve been watching Rob Pattinson the whole time. “Yeah?” he asks happily when I say this to him. He loves that. Hearing that is the best thing he could hear. Next up: a project with the visually sumptuous French filmmaker Claire Denis, someone he’s been wanting to work with forever. “It’s a lot about sexual fantasy,” he tells me, “and how your past intermingles, and this thing about kind of having your semen stolen from you in a spaceship and like forcibly impregnating people.” Look for it in theaters soon!

Pattinson came across the Safdie brothers in his endless reading. What caught his eye was a single still image from the last movie they directed, a much admired 2014 heroin-junkie drama called Heaven Knows What: It was a close-up of the film’s star, Arielle Holmes—stringy-haired and staring warily beneath a hot pink filter—whom the Safdies met one day in Manhattan’s Diamond District and decided to make a movie about. When Pattinson first saw the image, on a film-geek website, the movie wasn’t even out yet. But he couldn’t look away. He reached out to them immediately with a blind note saying he was a huge fan and that he wanted to be in their next project. Just to reiterate: He hadn’t even seen the movie yet. But he didn’t care. He was hooked. “I want to disappear into a role,” he told them. Good Time did not exist in any form until Pattinson reached out. The Safdies were in the middle of another movie when they got Pattinson’s note, but they invited him to talk and showed him the finished version of Heaven Knows What. “He said he just wanted to be part of that energy,” Josh Safdie told me. “Rob is constantly overturning rocks to see if he can find a worm to eat. He is genuinely interested in discovering things.” To prepare for Good Time, Pattinson spent weeks in New York just walking around Queens, asking friends of the Safdie brothers to read the lines from his script back to him until he got the accent right. He read The Executioner’s Song and In the Belly of the Beast because Josh mentioned them in passing. He lost weight, dyed his hair blond, got two actual earrings (he didn’t realize the holes never go away), and began to creep into the role of Connie, a petty criminal with dubious morals, redeemed only by his devotion to his intellectually disabled brother. One day, Pattinson and Ben Safdie, who plays the brother, went into a Dunkin’ Donuts in Yonkers, and Ben tried ordering coffee in character, getting more and more agitated, just as his character would. Pattinson, in character as well, tried not so gently to subdue him. “When I find someone who I have an instinct about,” Pattinson says, “who’s going to just push forward, I find it quite easy to completely give myself to that person. And I can commit so wholeheartedly because I think it’s so stressful being in a thing where you’re just constantly second-guessing everything all the time.” On the other hand, now that he’s the star, now that the movies are so much smaller than the franchise machines that run on their own power, like Twilight, he has a new set of responsibilities. He knows a movie like Good Time would not be the subject of much mainstream attention—remember, it probably wouldn’t even exist—without his name on it. He knows that he has reached the stage of his career where he can use his immense fame to bring attention to a very worthy, very difficult movie like this one. But now, sitting here, he realizes he doesn’t really know what to say to me about it. He doesn’t love this part, the selling part, and he’s struggling for the right words. “I’m not very good at sending a message,” he tells me. This is Rob Pattinson’s conundrum in 2017. He can disappear into roles. He can become someone new. But when he shows up to talk about the career he has now, the career of his dreams, people still mistake him for the tabloid tween sensation he was a few years ago, whose personal life was everywhere, who knew he was going to get asked about it in every interview and hated every second of it. He still does, which is why every minute we’re together I see him watching me warily, waiting for me to pounce.

Pattinson was cast in Twilight when he was 21, and throughout his four-year run, he and his co-stars would get dragged to shopping malls to do promotion. Those were the days when he spoke freely. Nervous girls would ask him everything from when Edward and Bella were finally going to bone to how he styled his hair. He told them, “I have 12-year-old virgins lick it.” He was hooded and dragged off to media training by studio executives, and from then on, in any interview he did, he was surrounded by several anxious publicists ready to tase him if he got out of line again. The paparazzi descended upon him in a way we hadn’t seen since Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were a thing. (They were once a thing!) Tabloids camped outside his home. “People were like, ‘It’s fine, who cares?’ ” he says now. “ ‘They’re just photos or whatever.’ They’ll say, ‘Just live your life.’ But that’s not life for me, if someone’s observing it.” During the height of the Twilight madness, he had each of his friends call Ubers while he traded outfits with them in the restaurant bathroom, so that photographers wouldn’t know which car he got into, and then he sent all the Ubers in different directions, because drop dead. He rode around in the trunks of cars “constantly,” he says, because fuck you. At one point he had five rental cars and kept them, along with a change of clothes, in parking lots around town. If he was being followed, he’d dip into one of the lots, switch his clothing and his car, and leave. One day, coming home from Venice, he realized he was being tailed. He drove around for hours because he didn’t want anyone to know where his new house was. Finally, as the sun came up, he pulled over and got out of the car and approached one of the photographers. “You’ve gotten your pictures,” he said. “Can I please just go home now?” “No,” the guy told him. “My boss says I can’t come back until I know where your new house is. Sorry, man.” Pattinson never tried to negotiate or appeal to their humanity again. “There are ways to disappear, like, fairly easily,” he tells me. “It just involves effort, and most people can’t be bothered to put the effort in.” Finally, he won. And he didn’t win because tabloids changed or because Twilight ended or even because he and Kristen Stewart broke up, a breakup instigated, of course, by the very paparazzi they had worked so hard to dodge (look it up). No, he won because he had more money than they did: They simply couldn’t afford the gas and unbillable hours that led to no billable shot. “As soon as I saw a tail, I would just disappear again. It worked after a while. They’re just like, ‘Oh, the guy is just a hassle.’ ” He had cracked the code; he was free. “There are ways to disappear, like, fairly easily,” he tells me. “But you have to be living a quite strange life. It just involves effort, and most people can’t really be bothered to put the effort in.” Things are easier now; not perfect, but easier. Just yesterday he was walking Solo—his girlfriend named the dog—and he saw a photographer, and he hid his face and then was angry at himself, because he knows that hiding your face is a story. As he tells me about it, he tightens that jaw that jaw that jaw, which you could luge down, but then he relaxes and remembers what it used to be like. Put it this way: He was walking his dog outside. He thinks Instagram has taken the heat off of him; it’s taken some of the fire out of the tabloids’ pursuit of movie stars. Now they chase the Insta-models and reality stars. Sometimes they chase one another. But he has no animosity for any of them, he says. “They’re just losers trying to do their jobs.”

What he is trying to say is—no offense to me personally, of course—he would rather not be here. “It’s technically part of my job, but I’ve never been very good at it,” he says. And anyway, “I’ve never been that concerned if someone sees the movie,” which he knows you’re not supposed to say aloud and maybe doesn’t entirely mean, but there you go. His eyes briefly shift toward me with suspicion. He’s sure this is what I’m after—something incendiary, maybe even something about his ex-girlfriend, or something about Twigs. (He only accidentally lets me know he calls her that—Twigs—twice: once in relation to who named the dog they both own and also in relation to the ugliness they both experienced when their relationship became public and people on Twitter spewed racist garbage about her.) In fact, Pattinson tells me, he went to therapy a few years ago during a low time, and the therapist often remarked how good he was at talking without saying anything. Now he applies this skill whenever he’s forced to hang out with people like me. “If I could stay silent,” he says, “I would.” He’s convinced that I’ll take whatever I learn and make his loved ones’ lives a hellscape. Back in the Twilight days, someone Googled his sisters’ names and started hounding them at work. He realized that he should never say anyone’s name—not his ex’s name, not Twigs’s name. (Just watch this. Me: “Are you getting married?” Him: “Eh...,” then laughs.) He tries to make a point in interviews of saying nothing that isn’t already known: “I always think the risk reward is very much weighted in the wrong direction.”

But it’s not just his personal life that he refuses to dive into. He’s also alarmed by the prospect that if he says the wrong thing about a film he’s trying to promote, it could be a disaster. “We live in very sensitive times,” he says. One false move, he says, and it becomes the story of the movie, undoing a lot of good people’s hard work. I surmise, but he will not confirm, that he is referring to several bits in the movie that might go over some p.c. line that the Internet has drawn. I ask him to give me an example—one example—of a movie where this happened, where a single remark or bit of gossip derailed the whole thing. He looks at me searchingly, shaking his head. He doesn’t want to name anything because he assumes that will get him into trouble, too, shitting on someone else’s movie. But I sit quietly and wait. I can wait all day. Finally, he’s got one. “Like Waterworld, for instance.” I look up from my notebook and squint. The Kevin Costner movie? “It’s one of the greatest movies ever made,” he continues, “and everyone said it was bad. And for years everyone was like, ‘This is a terrible movie.’ And now people are watching it and the veil is being taken away.” I am momentarily speechless. Then I confirm whether he’s actually seen Waterworld. He has. Later, I will check to make sure there isn’t a Sidney Lumet movie that’s also called Waterworld. There isn’t. Already he regrets saying this, invoking his beloved Waterworld. He looks down at the coffee. He gets a far-off look in his eyes, staring straight ahead, over my shoulder, at the restaurant wall. He looks at me again and pushes out a micro-sigh. He tells me a story about filming The Rover in 2014, in a town in Australia with a population of 90, several hours north of Adelaide. He could stand out in the open desert, taking a piss. “I know no one can see this,” he thought then. He could barely get his head around it. Just four years earlier, he was filming a movie in Central Park, and 3,000 people came out to watch. For anyone else it would be just a regular piss. For Pattinson, it was the urination of liberation.

So after all that, we end up playing golf, something he’s never done before and I’ve only done for other articles. It was his suggestion, as out of nowhere as the others. It stuck simply because it was the last thing he thought of before there was no time to think of anything else, so we got ourselves a last-minute tee time. He shows up this time in a gingham shirt, unbuttoned to just below the thorax, a baseball cap, and sneakers. He is less anxious than yesterday; he is happier when he is moving. Calmer, too. We rent a golf cart and make it through exactly one hole before it becomes clear that the combination of our ineptitude at golf and cackle-moon-howl laughter does not jibe well with the foul humor of the Angelenos who are available to play golf on a Friday afternoon at 3:12—a time that is called the Twilight slot, if you can believe it. We do not know quite where to put our tees. We do not know where we should be aiming our balls. There are people behind us and people in front of us, and perhaps we hadn’t considered how very, very seriously other people take golf. We decide to bail. I get into the golf cart with him, and he has to drive backward in order for us to make our escape. He does it at full speed, swerving in reverse with the confidence of a man who has been chased down by innocent-looking Priuses with devious-looking photographers hanging out the driver’s-side window. “We are going really fast,” I say.

He turns briefly toward me and gives me a funny look. “No, we’re not.” I was right all along, you know. Sure, yes, all the activities he suggested were about doing something cool he’d never done before, but mostly they were about not talking. Maybe I was being naive, but you have to know I go into each one of these with a heart clouded by optimism and a willingness to believe the best in everyone. He is searching for something new in his work and in his life—that’s all real. But his ulterior motive became unavoidable after we played one hole of golf. You try asking a question with a tape recorder jammed under your bra strap and your notepad under your armpit so that you can hit a ball nowhere near the hole.

“I want to be misunderstood. People are always changing, and the more you put something down in print, people form opinions and they’re constantly creating who they think you are.” After we return the cart, Pattinson and I hit the restaurant in the clubhouse. We sit with beers served in glasses the size of fishbowls and eat hot dogs (ketchup and mustard). I try again for even one iota of intimate conversation. But he just asks me why he would ever answer. So I think back on all the interviews I’ve done, and I tell him very honestly that I think it’s because people want to be heard. Most of us, even the most famous of us—sometimes especially the most famous of us—want to be understood. “I don’t,” he says. “I want to be misunderstood. People are always changing, and the more you put something down in print, people form opinions and they’re constantly creating who they think you are. If you do something that contradicts that, or if you do something which goes out of that box, then you can look like a liar or something like that.” He prefers to stay nimble, you see. There will be less to combat later if someone like me can’t throw his words in his face. It’s just not worth it, he says. Especially now. Especially now that he’s finally back among the living. Living is picking the movies you want, reacting to the world as it comes. Living is walking your dog. That’s why he isn’t giving me shit, he tells me. He hopes I understand. It’s for the best, he says. He’s alive again. Finally he’s alive again. Taffy Brodesser-Akner is a GQ correspondent. This story originally appeared in the September 2017 issue with the title "The Second Coming of Robert Pattinson."

#robertpattinson #robert pattinson

[danganronpa-imagines]

Their S/O (the reader) please!

Okie pokies! I will get to it straight away! Thank you so very much once again for the ask! Anyone who asks is very brave!

*The response to the request might not be posted onto Tumblr immediately, as I will be boarding a plane pretty soon. But rest assured, I will be working on it on my way to my destination! Apologies for the inconvenience!

Anonymous said:

DR2 girls when they realize they’re pregnant?

Akane Owari

- The results from her home pregnancy test came out positive. She wasn’t sure how pregnancy tests worked or how to read the results it produced, so you had to make sure you explained things thoroughly with her. So a positive result means … that she could eat as much as she wanted, and use the excuse that she was eating for two! Which also means … that she is pregnant!

- At first, Akane was extremely fired up and determined to maintain a robust and athletic figure during her pregnancy, but it came to you as no surprise when she abandoned her routines and schedules. Despite what it seemed though, Akane was actually concerned for her unborn child, and the consequences and possible strain her child might endure if she were to train as she usually would.

- You decide to consult her closest friend, Nekomaru Nidai, the Ultimate Team Manager. The two of you were close, and you trusted him to figure out the best way to encourage and train Akane, as to lift her fighting spirit as well as perpetuate your unborn child’s safety.

- Once her new training with Nekomaru became a regular, Akane was back to her normal self, with occasional mood swings. Her dispositions were now amplified versions of what they once were before her pregnancy, and you would always try your absolute best to assist her in whatever way you could.

- Because she has had seven younger siblings, all of who looked up to her for guidance, she does indeed have experience with ‘hungry small things.’ The two of you enjoy spending your time coming up with names for your child, and she reassures you that it’ll be a name that she will never forget.

Chiaki Nanami

- Chiaki was surprisingly calm when the home pregnancy test came out positive. She released a sigh of relief, as the two of you have been trying for a child for quite a while now. She decides that she wishes to surprise you with the news in a unique way, and that way was to make you sit through hours of a farming simulation roleplaying game until the two of you married and had a child. You ask (tiredly but amusingly) what the meaning of this was, but she simply smiles and asks what you wished to name your long awaited child. And you knew.

- The Ultimate Gamer became much sleepier than usual now that she was pregnant, going so far as to fall asleep during meals and afternoon walks and nighttime outings. You had to constantly be vigilant to ensure that she does not fall asleep whilst crossing the street or whilst speaking to someone. You never left her side when the two of you were out.

- You found it hilarious whenever she would use her protruding tummy as a ‘table’ for her bowls of snacks or for her drink. You always replaced whatever you took off her stomach, whether it be a cup for a sip or a bowl to get the last of the chips, and she didn’t seem to mind at all.

- The two of you diligently prepared a room for your child (she insisted that she help because she didn’t want you to do all of the work) and made sure it was well adorned with ‘helpful’ video game characters in hopes that they will guide the new player three throughout their journey.

Hiyoko Saionji

- Upon discovering that she was pregnant, Hiyoko was relieved, relieved to know that she could finally break the next child born into the family free from the mold that once imprisoned her so.

- The news was promptly passed onto you through the means of a traditional dance in combination with parts that she coordinated herself. The principal dance you recognize as the sparrow dance, also known as ‘suzume odori,’ a traditional Japanese dance based on the fluttering movements of the Eurasian tree sparrow, but as her sequence of steps and movements continued, you began to realize that she was telling a story of new beginnings through the art of dance, and you knew that you were going to be a father when she concluded the story with her hands on her stomach.

- Hiyoko requested that the two of you relocate to a secluded village in Hokkaido, and leave unbeknownst to her parents and family. She wished to raise her child in the nurturing and attentive manner in which she never received, far away from traditionalist values and views and in the quiet countryside. After saying her farewells, the two of you left the place she was born and raised. Left behind was also her title as heiress to the Saionji clan.

Ibuki Mioda

- The two of you have yet to wed, as you encouraged her to pursue her dream as a musician in earnest. You insisted that she put her dreams before you, and that you didn’t mind waiting for her for as long as she needed. This was what Ibuki had always wanted, someone as her soulmate rather than an intimate partner, and you understood that.

- But as time persisted, the two of you could not resist becoming devoted in a more amorous manner, and surely enough, the news that she was pregnant was difficult for her to digest.

- She believed that becoming pregnant and delivering a child and then raising the child meant that her dream of touring around the world and performing music for people to enjoy would be abruptly halted. It took you countless tries to calm her down and speak to her, and you made a promise to keep her dream alive.

- You began to save up money for a larger tour bus, as well as ‘on the go’ necessities that she and your child might need. You were also determined to be committed to taking care of your child in Ibuki’s place whilst still ensuring that she has quality time with the child as well. You became her manager and as manager, you lessened the performances and tours that she would partake in, but not so much so that she would miss out on her dream.

- It was a wonderful and satisfying sight to see Ibuki perform so exuberantly and vivaciously on stage with her round tummy. She performed without a care in the world and as if her child gave her the strength to. Before every performance, she would always give you a shoutout and thank you for everything you have done to preserve her dream.

- Not too long after, the two of you finally got married, and continued as a traveling musician, manager, and soon to be rock star baby.

Mahiru Koizumi

- The two of you led a rather normal and tranquil life in a modernized, always photogenic apartment, filled to the brim with various types of succulents and flowers and plants. As a part of her career, Mahiru would take daily walks downtown, to the park, to the rose garden, to museums, and any other scenic areas available and close by, and whenever you could, you would tag along.

- Both you and your beloved greatly anticipated the results of the home pregnancy test, and were ecstatic to find that it was positive. To celebrate, dinner was reserved at a high end restaurant in the city, and shortly afterward, a walk in the park in the night.

- During the stroll, Mahiru reveals that her mother was a famous war photographer, which led her to be absent from the majority of her life while her father was just a poor parent who always left all the house chores unattended to and contributed very little to the family. She is worried about her career as a photographer rendering her to the same fate as her mother: a truant parent who chased their dreams so far in the distance that they did not look back at what they had left at home.

- You reassure her that that would never happen, as she is a person who is generally aware of her current standings and is extremely mindful to the people around her. You also remind her that, you too, are a reliable and responsible person, and she laughs, stating that she would not be with you if you weren’t.

Mikan Tsumiki

- She insisted that she deliver the baby herself when the time comes, freaking you out. Despite not having much experience in the medical field, you wouldn’t want Mikan to endure any unnecessary stress, strain, or difficulties during an already difficult procedure.

- Your relationship with Mikan has been a trying one; it has always been clear that she has extremely low-self esteem, and as her partner you have always been trying your best to remedy that. She often tells you that you are the only person who has ever shown her any genuine and pure kindness, and she truly does appreciate it with all of her heart. While it was toilsome trying to undue her past experiences, all you could hope for was to make new, better ones.

- She seems to wholeheartedly enjoy preparing for the child who was well on their way, so the two of you spend the majority of your time educating yourselves on the basics of parenting, a baby’s needs, and the development of a child (even though she already knows quite a lot on the subject, the time spent doing this with her seems to calm and soothe her greatly).

- The child’s room was also carefully prepared and well decorated, and it was a sweet sight to see Mikan spend the majority of her time alone in silence in the room, free from the judgements and harmful words and actions of others for once.

Peko Pekoyama

- Nothing accompanied the news of her pregnancy more than fear and worry for Peko. Despite being in a relationship with you, she still served her original master and childhood friend, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, much to his chagrin. He only wished that, now that Peko has found someone to dedicate herself to and love, she would finally live her own life as an individual, a real individual, rather than just some tool that is to be used.

- For the next couple of days, Peko was in extreme distress, as having this child would either mean leaving her master unattended while she cared for her child, or be absent in the development of her child and continue her duty as Fuyuhiko’s hitwoman, a deed she could not forgive but must overlook if she had to.

- You decide to speak to Fuyuhiko about the situation. He admits that he was brashly planning to commit suicide, to completely obliterate Peko’s option of choosing to remain by his side. However, you remind him that such a decision would only cause Peko even more strain and suffering, as she is likely going to believe that it was her fault and her doing, albeit indirectly. He agrees, but struggles to find a solution to the issue.

- The two of you speak to each other for quite a while, and have come to the solution that Fuyuhiko was to move in (the decision did not come without struggle, as he was extremely hesitant to make such a drastic change). You consider him a close friend, and have no problems with sharing your life with him as well as Peko.

- You deliver the news to Peko, who was overwhelmed with appreciation for the both of you. She thanks you for your selfless choice, but you were more than happy to be a part of a happy family of four.

Sonia Nevermind

- It was a bit overwhelming to be in a relationship with the princess and soon to be queen of Novoselic. The wedding was phenomenal (but extremely demanding) and you don’t recall ever having to be on your best behavior for such extended periods of time. Nevertheless, you and Sonia decide that it would be best that you began your lives somewhere quiet, and prepare for the inevitable and much anticipated arrival of your child.

- It was extremely important to Sonia that her child understood humility and modesty, so the two of you did your best to stray away from the extravagant and lavish lifestyle that she had led.

- Your child was to be well educated, shrewd, and worldly, and when they became of age, only then could they claim the prestige title of prince or princess. Numerous books and textbooks were prepared for your child as they would advance and age (you decide that books regarding serial killers and the occult set aside by Sonia were to be left out).

- Sonia constantly worries herself over whether or not her child would be a good person, and you reassured her that with your combined parenting, that they will be. Often, you would sit yourself right beside Sonia, and enjoy the view from where you sat and indulge in long conversations and dialogues with each other about life and what having a child will be like. Life was perfect and faultless, and you couldn’t be happier and neither could she.

#danganronpa imagines #dr2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #akane owari #chiaki namani #hiyoko saionji #mahiru koizumi #sonia nevermind #mikan tsumiki #peko pekoyama #I am so sorry this took so long #please tell me if there are any errors! #sfw

[selenaxnewf]

“You can talk to my assistant about scheduling interviews.” When she’d initially brushed a reporter off after the season opener, Selena wholeheartedly believed that she managed to circumnavigate a potential disaster. She wasn’t opposed to giving interviews -- - truth be told, she should have been more liberal with her time during the 2017 season - -- but she had a full schedule and had yet to figure out a way to find time to lick her wounds. A more careful approach to press-related functions was out the window, however, when her assistant proudly chirped that she had ‘scheduled that interview you wanted!’

Unfortunately, no amount of animosity toward the girl could prevent the interview from taking place. The schedule was set and Selena hosted the interviewer from Witch Weekly with a gracious smile and the insistence that it was no trouble -- - no trouble at all, dear! - -- to answer a few questions from the comfort of her office.

Are you happy with the way the quidditch season is going so far?

“I-- -” Shock gives way to humor as Selena leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. “You did see the last game, didn’t you? I can’t say I’m happy with a loss.” Who would be? A smile is attempted but abandoned as she leans forward, elbows planted on mahogany so can lace her fingers and rest her chin atop the cradle of her digits. “I will say that I’m over the moon with how the team’s responded to the loss, though. Our next match is going to go very differently, I think. Then again, I might be biased.” Smile. Wink. Breathe.

What words would you use to describe yourself?

So it’s one of those interviews, then? She doesn’t falter, but she makes a show of considering the options presented. “What’s the word everyone likes to use? Ah, right -- - intense.” She’s playing to her audience now, showing her distaste with a well-placed shake of her head and a wrinkled nose to boot. “I prefer passionate. Intense is the kind of thing men say about women who refuse to be silenced. But, at any rate, I think I’m passionate. Shrewd, when I need to be. I like to think I’m funny, but doesn’t everybody? Overall, I’d say I’m smart and ambitious.” Nothing wrong with that.

If you could change one aspect of your personality, what would it be?

Rude. She hides her disgust by leaning back in her chair, passing her thumb under her lower lip while she contemplates a question she knows the answer to. “I’d like to be a more relaxed person, I think.” As if her morning was spent doing anything other than sipping mimosas with Cordelia, laughing about the idea of giving an interview. “I throw myself into projects and take it personally when things don’t turn out quite the way I want them to. That’s difficult with quidditch, since I can’t control what happens on the pitch. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t often think about last year’s cup and the moves I could’ve made.”

Briefly talk about a defining moment in your life. What made it so important?

Her throat tightens, though she hides it with all the practiced ease of a woman who’s done hundreds of interviews and expects to do a hundred more. “Did you know I once tried to break into the Shrieking Shack?” Is that shock on the interviewer’s face, or is it fear? Either way, Selena smiles. “I did. When I was a sixth year at Hogwarts, a friend of mine and I tried to sneak our way into the Shrieking Shack. And you know what we found?” She leans forward, all smiles as the poor journalist meets her intensity. “Nothing.” A beat, “Absolutely nothing. No ghosts. No curses. Bit disappointing, really. But it taught me that most things are only as scary as we make them.” She shrugs, confident that embellishments won’t be properly researched by Witch Weekly. “At the end of the day, the Shrieking Shack was just an old building. The detention and losing the house cup was worth it to learn that there was no reason to pay any attention to the eyesore.”

If you weren’t involved in the quidditch scene, what kind of job do you would have?

“Am I supposed to tell you I’d go back to being a housewife?” Selena purses her lips a the interviewer across from her blushes a deep scarlet. And why shouldn’t she? It’s an insulting question, at best; a sad attempt to get a sound byte, at worst. Selena crosses her legs, leans back and scrutinizes the interviewer while weighing the pros and cons of firing her assistant as soon as the interview comes to a close. “I toyed with being an auror.” It’s the shock that Selena hates -- - the raised brows and slacked jaws that say ‘you could be an auror?!’ But she indulges the girl, she breathes and shrugs, “I had the NEWTs for it. I was young and thought it would be some sort of adventure.” Her lazy hands motion to the window behind her, to the sky and the clouds that hang motionless in the atmosphere, “It turns out, I’m best suited to this.”

What are some similarities/differences between yourself and your teammates/coworkers?

“Well, the difference is about thirty years.” They both laugh, though Selena finds no humor in her joke. “But I believe all of us at Puddlemere are capable and driven. Really, the only thing that’s different is that I hold the cheque book and the quill. We’re all equally committed to Puddlemere’s success.”

What kind of things do you think about when you’re alone?

She laughs. It’s reactionary, loud and genuine, but it’s a laugh nevertheless. The poor witch sits embarrassed with her notebook and quill, but Selena waves her hand as if to say there’s been no harm done. “No, I’m sorry, but… Why?” She knows the answer, or some variation of it. The witch insists it’s so the readers will get to know her better. Selena sighs and drags her hands through her hair. Hadn’t Cordelia mentioned knowing someone who was interested in working as an assistant? Perhaps Selena would give them a call. “I’m afraid I’m rarely alone. I have a husband, a house, friends -- - if you can believe it - -- and I’m always busy. When I am alone, though, I usually find myself thinking about whatever it is that I have to do next.”

What are three good habits and three bad habits that you have?

“The good is that I keep an immaculate ledger.” This, of course, because of her wealth, but that doesn’t need to be said. The last thing she wants is to read a headline about how she forced a poor reporter to look at her bottom line. “I try to keep a neat and organized schedule, too. But you know that, since you spoke to my assistant. And… was that two?” Yes, ma’am. “Well, I suppose the third would be that I always try to be where I’m supposed to on time.” She smiles, fully aware that the poor witch across from her was ten minutes late. The girl squirms. Selena continues. “Bad habits?” It’s suddenly as if all of her mother’s lessons come back to haunt her, and Selena suddenly understand why Mrs. Sinclair was careful to teach her daughter to only divulge things she wouldn’t mind being used against her. “I have a habit of biting my nails when I’m stressed. I know that sounds cliche, but I walk away from every match with my nails chewed down to the quick.” She didn’t. “And I often overextend myself where the team is concerned.” She doesn’t. “But, I suppose my worst habit is talking to anyone who cares to listen. I like having a broad social circle, and I tend to prattle on if I’m not stopped.” She smiles, feigns embarrassment -- - Look at me, I’m just like you.

What is your personal philosophy?

“Nobody actually has a personal philosophy.” She sighs, but reels herself back just in time. “Everybody breaks their own rules.” Is she smiling enough? Selena tries, she leans forward and strums her fingers on the desk. “But I like to think that I wake up every day and try to improve my life a little bit. That’s as close as I can get to a personal philosophy.”

Would you rather be liked or respected? Feared or loved?

“Respected.” Merlin, how many times has she answered this one? Selena bobs her foot and shrugs her shoulders; she plays the part of someone who’s just a little embarrassed about how quickly they’ve answered an import question. “If I was focused on being liked, I couldn’t get this job done. It’s hard to make trades and to get rid of certain players, but sometimes that’s the best thing for Puddlemere’s future. As far as being feared or loved goes, has anyone actually ever answered that they’d like to be feared?” No? Of course they haven’t.

What are your thoughts on Puddlemere United?

“I…” It’s a serious question. Selena stops herself from rattling off some sort of joke. “I love this team.” She sinks easily into honesty, which is more than she can say for the first half of the interview. “There’s history here, and I’m ecstatic to be a part of a team that’s won a significant number of World Cups. I feel honored to be the first woman to own a team in the league, and I’m glad that team was Puddlemere.” For a moment, she wishes she was a better actress. Perhaps a tear or two would be appropriate.

What about The Chudley Cannons?

Of course. Of fucking course. Selena wonders, albeit briefly, if the last question was designed to gear her for this one. “Well, I can’t say I’m about to start wearing Chudley orange any time soon.” She thinks -- - or feigns the motions of thinking - -- while fighting the tension in her jaw. “No, that’s not really my color.” There’s your quote, Witch Weekly. Selena Newf thinks orange isn’t her color. “They’ve proven to be a formidable team, though I’m not sure that all the credit should go to Mr. Beaumont. He purchased them and upgraded their equipment, but the roster was decent enough before he came along. I think the management should be proud of what they’ve done with a losing team, don’t you think?”

If given a more lucrative position with another team, would you take it?

Do you know my husband? She bites back the words and the self loathing that comes with the thought. “I wouldn’t.” It takes a minute, but Selena finally rises from her seat as if to indicate that she’s grown tired of the interview. “But I’m not in this for the money. Would you like a drink?”

Would you consider yourself an optimist or a pessimist?

She pours herself a humble portion of scotch from a decanter on the other side of her office. The witch declines and plows ahead, but Selena swirls the contents of her glass. “Neither.” It’s taken no time at all for her to tire of the antics of Witch Weekly. Selena smiles as she sips. “I try to be realistic about most situations. Some deserve more optimism than others. Are you sure you don’t want a drink, dear?”

What’s one thing you would change about your team, if given the opportunity?

No drink. No, really. It’s the last question, ma’am; no need to stay longer than necessary. Selena waits out the excuses and examines the final question while she’s shepherding the girl to the door. “I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid.” Her smile is genuine, if not a bit ashamed. “I wish I could, but we’re already in the works to make some big changes.” Lies, lies, and more lies. Selena leaves a drink in her glass -- - best to avoid Witch Weekly reporting that she’s guzzling alcohol during an interview - -- but she shows the reporter the door anyway. “Be on the lookout. If I want something changed, I’ll make it happen.”

#qd:task

[lifesobeautiful]

5 Things That Can Bring More Satisfaction In Your Life

Life in an urban settlement can be hectic. There is that traffic you need to traverse through in order to reach the office on time. Then, you need to make sure that you are meeting up with your deadlines. There is this huge list of never-ending things to do that includes all your household chores that simply wouldn’t do themselves.

Within 24 hours, you are hustling and bustling and while you sit down to have your dinner, you realize there wasn’t enough time to cater to yourself and your needs. This can go on for days and weeks without you actually feeling satisfied with your life.

So, to make sure you feel fulfilled in what you do and your life, here are some steps you can take so you can start being satisfied with what you have.

Connect With an Old Friend or Relative

There are times when some of our best buddies simply get too busy just like ourselves and with the passage of time visits and meet-ups become less frequent until the point comes where a year passes by and you don’t get to talk with them face to face.

Social media is not the answer. You need to make this real and take out some time to connect with your friends. Remember, life is too short.

If there’s one thing that can help you realize how important friendship is, then hear about the amazing findings of William Chopik in his study on friendship. His study reveals that not only people with friends have better health and stronger morals about themselves but it also boosts their self-confidence and helps them live longer.

If there is anything that can help you be more content with your life, it’s spending time with friends after work. That is simply so much better than letting your time just fly by in front of electronic devices.

Actively Indulge in Philanthropy

If there is one thing you need to realize early in your life is that money isn’t the answer to all your needs. Believe it or not, being selfless is a great feeling.

However, simply giving your change to a homeless person wouldn’t cut it. You need to find a cause that you deeply care about and then commit to it wholeheartedly for the rest of your life. This will give you an opportunity to see how your small acts of kindness can bring out the best in you and the society.

Once you start seeing the results, you would never back out and that is the beauty of it all. It not always about cash. Keep in mind that your invested time and effort could make a world of a difference for someone out there.

Finish Reading a Book

Reading stimulates the mind. It works great in reducing stress, improving your vocabulary and increasing your pool of knowledge. It can also improve your focus, concentration and communication skills.

The reason we did not ask you to initiate reading a book is that completing a book is far more satisfying than simply reading halfway through it. So, pick up a nice book now and make it into a habit.

Renovate / Revamp / Redecorate Your House

Whether you live in a mansion or a shabby two-room apartment like me, there will come a time where you simply cannot stand those walls anymore. Years have gone by and it’s probably the right time for you to redecorate your house.

It’s quite uplifting and it can dramatically improve your mood. Rearranging your things and furniture can totally make your home feel and look completely different- almost as if it’s new!

Renovating your house is a fun activity. If you don’t have a strong sense of decor, then simply ask your friend to help you out or seek out professional assistance. Even a paint job is tons of fun. So, get to it!

Exercise or Join a Sports Club

Exercise is a great way to channel your energies in the right direction. If you are stuck in a 9-to-5 job, then you need to seriously reconsider your physical activity. Simply sitting at your workstation all day will only make that waistline grow bigger.

I can go on for a very long time about how eating healthy and organic food can save your life right now. However, the bottom line is this: exercising daily is the real cure you need.

As time flies by, we all get older. What you do with your body today can help you stay healthy in the coming years. So, stay fit, go for a walk, jog or run if you can. Exercising will not only improve your overall capacity as a productive human being, but it will also make you look good and know your true strengths.

Conclusion

Being satisfied with what you have can be troublesome these days. However, when you recombine your true inner, peaceful self with the natural environment, you’ll be better with whatever you choose to be.

We hope that you give the aforementioned habits a try for yourself and see how they make a difference. Maybe then, you can also recommend them to those who need a positive change in their lives.

In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., “We must accept infinite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope”.

The post 5 Things That Can Bring More Satisfaction In Your Life appeared first on Dumb Little Man.

This article was first shared from Dumb Little Man

[imchick]

We had exactly 1 year to prepare. If I had to be really honest, it did not come as a surprise at all. (which can either be a good thing or a bad thing) I’m kind of proud of us actually. I think we’re both mature and invested enough in the relationship. We were both sure that we’ll marry each other. We both know what we wanted out of this relationship. There were no pretensions. We were vocal and there never was a battle of who gets to care less. In this time of no commitment relationships, we’ve always been been transparent.

We planned ahead. We talked about things early on. Whenever we see something wedding related, we were both comfortable enough to say, ‘Bab, I want this for our wedding’, ‘Babe I already asked for a quotation’, ‘Can we get this for our wedding?’. We can talk freely without the fear that the other will think that the relationship is going too fast.

It was October 2018 when my then boyfriend proposed during one of our vacations in Coron, Palawan.(check out how he proposed here!). We returned in Manila and when we were settled. We already looked for our Church and Venue. I already wrote about our experience here, tips and tricks too for early preparations. (read all about it here!)

For this post, I just would like to do a run down of the different experiences we had to deal with during that year of preparation, (One, hoping it would help others and Two, because no matter what challenges we had to face with? I’d like to remember everything!)

Wedding Gown: The biggest worry of all brides.

At first, I was fairly certain that I wanted a mermaid cut. I was slim and people always complimented my body. (not that I’m Kim or Kylie) but I had the right amount of chest and bum good enough to wear a mermaid cut. But as the days passed, my friends would always make a hint that they already know what type of gown I would wear. So just to go against all of their guesses, I went with . . . an A-Line Cut.

Apart from the shape of the gown, you also have to consider your neckline, the trail, your veil and the amount of details you want. Right off the bat, I wanted a clean, minimalist V-Neck Gown – that’s certain.

To give you an idea of how hard it is to settle on 1 final peg, I had about 300 pinterest gowns, messaged about 30 couturiers, followed 15 bridal accounts on IG and more. I also visited 3 couturiers and ended with a friend of my mom, Rose Lagdameo.

I experienced the tiniest worry when Rose decided to follow my mom and alter the neckline of my gown. Whew! It’s a good thing the final output turned out to be exactly how I pictured it.

It’s a Pronovias 2018 Castle Gown – a Mikado A-line Shape with low cut V-neck front and back, triangular tulle armholes and godets in tulle skirt with beaded and fabric flowers.

Groom’s Suit: The only thing groom has a complete say on. 😛

A little background: We initially wanted a Maroon-Gold themed wedding but given that our date was November 24, we thought it would seem more of Christmas theme than a wedding and the fiancee had doubts if he can pull off a maroon suit. So we went with our second best choice: Dark Emerald and Champagne / Gold.

And just like how all men are, he didn’t actually have hundreds of pegs. We just attended a wedding fair and since Felipe & Sons is one of the more popular ones, we approached their booth and looked for the perfect Dark Emerald material. —- and tadah! They do have it!

It was such a smooth transaction. Ate Violy was very attentive and suggestive of what would go best with our choices. She even helped us choose the buttons, our neck ties, socks and even the color of our shoes and belt! It was a perfect fit and I honestly wanted to marry my fiancee right then & there on his second fitting. He looked absolutely dapper. ❤

Entourage Proposal: Unnecessary but happy to do it

I really wanted to give our entourage something they can keep since they will be spending for their own attire. I’ve been saving different ideas from pinterest, wawies, Instagram and the likes.

For our Male Entourage: Clinique Happy Perfume, a handkerchief and a little message for our handsome entourage.

For our Female Entourage: Champagne Robes from SMGM Bridal Robes for our morning pictorial, almost the exact pair of earrings I wore when my husband proposed and a letter for my dearest friends.

I really enjoyed doing the DIYs! I scouted all the layouts from the letter, to their names, to the font that we used, which I printed (in the o**ic*) Haha. Hubby also participated by doing the ribbon that we placed outside the box.

Prenup: Our facial rehearsal for the big day!

I was a bit confused for our theme. Initially, I really wanted to use the venue that I was eyeing on for our reception but we had to change since the rate was over our budget. When my husband and I talked, we finalized on three themes: Nature, Our Love Story and Everyday Life.

For Nature, we agreed on Treasure Mountain. For our Love Story, we wanted an office set-up and even asked if we can actually shoot in the office building where we met. Unfortunately, an hour would already cost too much. For the last theme, everyday life of husband and wife, we wanted to shoot in an airbnb where we can just read books, cook, bake, read newspaper and all the mundane things that will show how our lives will turn out after our wedding.

Being the aesthete that I am, I wanted our clothes to match so we even practiced and bought some new ones for the prenup shoot.

On the day of the shoot, we woke up at 2 in the morning, drove to Rizal at 3 am for our makeup since shoot starts at 6:00 am. We were really exhausted by the time we ended but happy with the raw output from our Photo-Video team.

Food: One of the biggest expectations that we need to meet.

It’s always the food that people remembers, we’ve been told time and again. Our Venue have several accredited suppliers. Originally, we wanted to go with the more famous one but was so disappointed during the Food Tasting.

We had 3 Food Tastings! Hahaha. And relieved to be hearing so many kind words with our choice of food. 😀

Make-up: Something that can make or break the bride

Gahh. One of the nerve wracking  decisions. I had my dream MUA but like all brides, we need to learn to compromise. My dream artist costs like Php 60,000 so obviously, it was over our budget. I tested with three MUA during bridal fairs.

I don’t know why hair artists really like doing hairs like the one in the middle where the top of the head is flat. I hated the flat top big hair. We closed with the MUA where I was wearing black.

I suggest that no matter how broad the portfolio of your dream MUA, please do a trial makeup first.

Entourage Gown: This should also go with the theme of your wedding

I was certain I wanted a clean cut minimalist mikado gowns for my friends. I wanted it to complement with my gown but not over power it. (since my wedding gown is minimalist too)

I loved that our scheduled fittings turned out to become our bonding moments. It’s nice to know that my friends from our other groups are now friends too. ❤

Pick your entourage wisely! There are expenses along the way such as bridal showers, shoes and accessories that they need to put together. There are weekends they will need to sacrifice but the real ones will happily do it.

Did I mention I personally drew their gowns too?

Survival Kits: A bribe from the heart

We didn’t even think about this! It’s a good thing we are a part of this group in facebook called wawies where other couples share their wedding ideas. Survival Kits are basically snacks and drinks for your suppliers.

We prepared survival kits both in our prenup shoot and in the actual wedding day. Not only was it given to suppliers but we also prepared some snack for the prep room where our entourage will get ready and in the respective cars we will be using too. 🙂

Prep Dress: Unnecessary but Aesthetics. 😛 

I’m known to be a bit maarte and because admittedly am, I was very specific with my prep dress. I didn’t want it to be a robe. So yes, I drew the dress that I wanted and asked several couturiers.

Annndddd, Embellish Dress Shop was able to pull it off exactly. ❤

Signage: Something in theme but shows off personality

I’m a huge F.R.I.E.N.D.S fan!!! and the hubby is a pretend-fan, I insisted our signages to be friends-themed. ❤ It’s something I personally worked on. ❤ and I loved the outcome.

Aside from that, we wanted to show our love story and some little facts about our relationship so I also worked on an infographic. ❤ We stayed with our white marble layout.

Supplier Gifts: To show gratitude

At first I really thought it was such an added expense but as our wedding day approaches, we got to know our suppliers better and proved to be worthy of small gifts. ❤

For our Coordinator, since they really went above and beyond, we gave them cash gifts, Perfume for our event stylist, bath sets for the three teams of our HMUA, Goodies Basket for our AE in Venue, Photo & Video Team, Musician and Host.

Prizes, Awards and Small Tokens

We planned everything together with our host who also helped us think of our prizes. ❤

So for our small entourage, the bearers and flower girls, we each gave them chocolate goodies.  I was not able to take a good picture, but for our principal sponsors, we gave them a bottle of wine and chocolates. The same goes for our trusted entourage.

We also had some awards to be given out and prizes to go with them. For the best dressed young ones, we gave them beers and make up and for the somehow older crowd, we gave them wine and pans. ❤

For some of our games, we gave out Starbucks GC and powerbanks. ❤

Planning was so stressful, full of pressure and unsolicited opinions but damn, I miss it! It’s such a joy to be wholeheartedly involved in every aspect and to see your ideas and dreams come to life on the best day of your life. ❤ 

EVERYDAY: We got married (The Preps) We had exactly 1 year to prepare. If I had to be really honest, it did not come as a surprise at all.

#awards #evernt #gowns #groom&039;s suit #make up #manila #marriage #philippines #prep dress #prizes #suppliers #weddig gown #wedding #wedding suppliers

[madigabz]

what do you want in your life rn and in five years? I know you say that you WANT to change but after everything that's been risked, I'm terrified of the future. I want you to do you, and not be able to point fingers at me, bc you want to live your life YOUR way... I honestly want to respect you and I don't want to take anything away from you either. I also don't want to wait and get heartbroken again.

like underlying idk what you're actually expecting in yourself, me or us.. i guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to get married now- if in five years or later on; your need for me is different than what it is now. Want* not need. Emotional support, love..

A tattoo doesn't tell me that in a couple of yrs, when I'm pregnant, when we have money problems, when life happens, when I don't look young & cute anymore .. that you won't just toss me to the side OR that you won't do something to get yourself locked up. (I have this nagging insecurity of you being selfish and me LOSING you, can you see that in either scenario?^^ ) I DO have faith in you, but really where is your head actually at? Bc only you can make these changes.

Before committing myself to you, I need you to make these insecurities go away.

Honestly, Idk how to say this to your face, but I still compare myself to that hoe. I know you were creeping on her shit after you were released in February. After seeing that mssg I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. And I dont even think she’s attractive she just has a good body. That shit just fucks a female up... I mean c’mon I’ve never fucked you over and that bitch put a tip on you with her drug stash 😓 that put me lower than a snitch. Your mind has always been way too curious for me to feel secure. In some way I feel like I made up your mind for you... bc I never left or gave up. You had to test the water to see if I was good enough and then made up your mind that I am, well sometimes. I feel ashamed that I didn’t listen to you when you told me not to get a place w you. Even more ashamed that I allowed you, wholeheartedly, to disown me with your actions yet again..

After everything you did in Florida, everything I've found out even just since February, thinking I was pregnant; I totally don't feel worthy of anything and especially you. You already tried to get someone else pregnant before so it made me feel like mad shit the way you reacted. I’m so scared Alan. I feel so devalued in way too many aspects. Like I said I feel worthless. I used to be confident and it took me a long time to learn how to love myself. I didn’t understand why you didn’t “want to go through” the videos of you fucking her and delete them. Like was the sex that good or just bc I’m not a toothpick you wanted to hold onto that? I never wanted you moving on from shit bc I’m making you...I don’t want to force anything. I mean through all the bs, I still felt like you had nowhere else to be, besides with me... If it wasn’t for you being released it would of been years before we were able to talk outside of a jail again, even in an actual relationshipmoutnin the real world... we were blessed this opportunity to be together rn. I had to bring you back to know where to go from here.. I hate bringing up the past after so long but until you make these insecurities go away, like that one fucking text, there will always be these thoughts in the back of my head. I want to be with you but you’ve made me feel so inhuman before, that even this connection we have now haven’t made everything completely be a happy ever after... this all Makes me question what happens if I stay. All of these events have. I know you don’t ask me to stay. It’s torturous without you and it’s torturous accepting someone that has backstabbed me so many times before too. I’m truly heartbroken. (I know I don't live in a hut with dirt floors, and even on my worst day I'm living someone's best day) but On top of all the shit going on in my family (as always too) and stuff idk how to deal with any of this. I feel fragile af, for myself and exhausted for all of the empathetic "sympathy" I'm feeling. My energy is gone. I know you don't want to hear this and you have bigger things to deal with... & I love you and I'm trying to help you. I know you said you could sleep on the streets in Florida but you shouldn't devalue yourself like that either. I don't want that to happen to you 😭 I want you to

Enjoy your life.

Idk how to get past 6 years of a cycle of love and hurt.. and Im sorry if I'm making your life more stressful and about me but I need your help on figuring out my future. Your future. This Florida time DOES NOT change anything between us. The decisions you chose were shitty, but you already know that. I just want to clarify that this isn't about your time...this is about where I actually stand in your life. Don’t keep me around just bc I have a conscious and make you feel. So you’re worried about me more than yourself when locked up....

I'm hesitating sending this mssg, but it's only a text bc idek how to say all of this to your face.

You can respond to me in person if you want but please think about all of this tn for me..and after these answers I promise to stop making everything about me and to be stronger for both of us.

I wasn't able to see you since before I went to Colorado, I'm finally able to process all of the shit that's happened in the last few months. You didn't even read the first letter I wrote..so I'm putting this on the table.. all of the insecurities can't sit on it'll work out anymore.