#Joint Ask Sessions are really fun! I ought to do them more!

[dreammeiser]

Some sketches done for Mae and Teddy's recent QnA! I have been writing a lot for both their arcs since one closely follows the other, I wanted to give myself a little treat-treat and do some asks for them!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Hero Complex | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested by anonymous: Hi!! Can you do one where the reader is Jeremys little sister and she comes to set and hits it off with Owen and they start to hang out a lot and Jeremy gets really protective of her

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for! 

Pairing: Owen Patrick Joyner x Little Shada!Reader, Jeremy Shada x Little Sister!Reader

Warnings: fluff, big fight, anxiety 

Words: 7,084

Reader’s POV

Jeremy and I have been the best of friends ever since the day I was born. He might be my older brother, but I’ve always considered him more like my best friend. We used to play games together when we were younger where I’d pretend to be a princess and he was the knight protecting my castle from dragons and dangerous monsters. Or, when we were in a swimming pool, I’d pretend to be a mermaid and he was my dolphin. We played so many pretend games, I’d lost track of most of them. When we got older and made a lot of new friends, we still tried to take at least one night in the week where we’d spend time together, whether it was watching movies together or jamming or just chatting about absolute nonsense or going out together. I even got to be his best (wo)man when he married Carolynn about a month ago, and we’ve been calling each other non-stop since he started this new project of his with Netflix called Julie and The Phantoms. I helped him prepare for his audition and was equally as excited as he was when he got it. This role was written for him. Though, when bootcamp and filming started, it did mean I’d have to miss him for a very long time since he was all the way in Vancouver for months on end. So, now I’ve come up with the idea to go and visit him and Carolynn in Canada. I’d called Carolynn to help me out and surprise him. She picked me up from the airport just a few minutes ago, and as we’re catching up in the car, I can’t help but feel giddy at seeing my brother again. It feels ages since I’ve last seen him at his wedding. That’s also when I saw the rest of the cast last. Jeremy had introduced me to the ones that were at the party, and I loved hanging out with them. It felt like being introduced to one big family that quickly became part of my own family. That was one fun night, but that’s all it was. One night of spending time with all these people and then never hearing or seeing them again. To be fair, they were all really busy with rehearsals and filming and everything. “Are you ready?” Carolynn asks when we’re at the door of their Vancouver apartment. “Yes!” I reply in a hushed voice, just to make sure Jeremy doesn’t hear me. Carolynn unlocks the door and walks in first, I follow suit. My eyes dart around quickly to take in as much as possible before the two of us turn a corner to the living room here Jeremy’s on the couch, watching something on the tv. “What’re you watching, bro?” His head snaps up at the sound of my voice, his eyes widening as he takes in my presence. “No way!” he exclaims as he gets up quickly and rushes over to me, taking me in his arms in a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he mumbles in my ear as he twirls me around. “I wanted to surprise you,” I tell him as he puts me down again, taking my hands in his instead. “I don’t go back to college until like next week, so I figured, why not?” I’m overexplaining again, I know it. Jeremy doesn’t care how I’m here, he just cares that I’m here. “You wanna come to Set with me today?” he asks with this sparkle in his eyes he only gets when he’s really excited about something. “I’m sure the others would love to see you again!” I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I think about how much fun they all were at the wedding. There’s no denying that I’d love to see them again too. So, I nod my head eagerly, earning an excited squeal from the boy in front of me. “The driver will be here in half an hour, you need some time to freshen up after your flight?” “Yes, please!” Carolynn guides me to the bathroom where she puts out a pair of towels for me. I shoot her a thankful smile and when she’s out of the bathroom, I get into the shower. Once I’m all dressed and ready to go, the driver is already in front of the building. “Hey, Darren,” Jeremy greets as he gets in. “My little sister’s coming with me today.” He buckles himself into the seat as I do the same. “Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” I say to the driver. He gives me a kind smile through the rearview mirror, letting out a small ‘hi’. He must not be very talkative. “What scenes are you filming today?” I ask my brother instead whilst the driver heads down to the next stop. “I think there’s a gig scene we’re filming today,” he answers, and the car comes to a standstill. “We’ve got about ten more minutes before Charlie and Owen head down. You want some coffee?” My eyes bulge out of their sockets at the thought of caffeine alone. I’ve been up for so long, I could use a good shot of wakeup-juice. “Guess that’s a yes. Let’s go!” he lets out a chuckle before getting out of the car with me in tow. “Do I need to remember anything I can or can’t do on set?” I ask the only thought that’s been haunting my mind since coming up with this idea. I knew he was going to have to work, and I also knew he would want to bring me to set. As a newbie to this entire world of filming a show, I worried I would be in the way or say the wrong things or break something. I knew I needed some pointers from my best friend to calm me down. “Just try not to trip over anything, Clumsy,” he simply answers before turning to the barista. This coffee shop seems really quiet at this time of the day, there are no customers at the counter. Just a few at the tables, most of them with their laptops open. “A large coffee with two extra espresso shots, and a medium black coffee to go, please,” he tells the man behind the counter. “Can I get your names, please?” he asks with the pen in hand. “You can write Shada on both of them,” Jeremy answers. The man nods his head curtly before scribbling down the name on both cups.  He pays the barista and then moves to the end of the counter, pulling me along.  “Filming with Kenny Ortega is really chill, Lil’ One, no need to worry,” he reassures me, taking me into a side-way hug, planting a kiss to my hair. “I’m just really nervous to be on a set, does that sound ridiculous?” I ask, twisting the bracelet around my wrist. It’s the one I got from Jeremy and Carolynn for Christmas last year. “No, I think that’s pretty normal. I ought to bring you to set more often, get you used to it all.” “Yeah,” I agree in a hushed voice, going over every possible situation that could go wrong. My train of thought is interrupted by the barista calling out our last name, sliding the two cups over at us. I grab the large cup whilst Jeremy takes his, and exit the joint to head back to the car. “Oh, seems like we’re right on time,” he points out, waving at two boys near the car. The brunette I know as Charlie, waves back before hopping into the front seat next to Darren. The blonde guy, better known as Owen, doesn’t get in yet, and instead waits for us to reach the car. He holds the door open for me, letting me get in first before hopping in himself. Jeremy jogs to the other side, getting in there. Now I’m squeezed between the two boys, clutching my coffee as if my life depends on it. “It’s good to see you again, lil’ Shada,” Charlie says, turning to face us. I giggle at the nickname. They’d called me that at the wedding. The entire night. “Surprising your big brother?” I nod my head in response. “Yeah, I didn’t have anything better to do, so… Came to annoy my brother and his buddies at work.” This makes all three boys laugh, which, not going to lie, makes me feel ten times more at ease. I thought seeing the boys again would be awkward. It’s anything but that. They make me feel so relaxed, and as though I’m a part of their group. Once we’re at the set, Jeremy introduces me to most of the crew and the rest of the cast, but especially Kenny Ortega. “Oh, look at that! Lil’ Shada’s here!” he says, opening his arms for a hug, which I gladly give him. I did meet him at the wedding, but it was so brief, I didn't think he’d remember me. “Hi, Kenny!” I greet excitedly and then let go of him. “You don’t mind if I hang around the set the next couple of days, right?” He inspects me from head to toe, eyebrows raised, and I can’t help the anxiety that’s welling up inside of me. I knew I shouldn’t have come over, I knew this was a bad idea. Kenny doesn’t want me here. I’m just going to be in the way of his mastermind working its magic on this show. I’m going to be a distraction for the actors, especially Jeremy. “Of course I don’t mind, Lil’ Shada! Jeremy's family is my family!” The pressures and intrusive thoughts wash away immediately. Those are the words I needed to hear. I sometimes think I need too much affirmation and confirmation, that other people get annoyed. My therapist told me that’s just my anxious brain speaking. He said if I want confirmation, I need to ask for it. Jeremy has been a great sport in my mental health journey from the very beginning. He took me to my sessions, did the exercises my therapist gave me with me. He’s always making sure I’m okay and gives me the confirmation I need whenever he feels I need it. Which is always at the right moment. “See, Lil’ One? Told you it would be okay!” I shoot both the men a thankful and relieved smile. Kenny places a hand on my shoulder as he passes me, leaving Jeremy and me all by ourselves. “You wanna go to makeup and wardrobe with me?” he asks, to which I nod. He then grabs my hand and leads me to the destined trailer. The second I step inside, I hear an ear-piercing screech coming from one of the chairs, and before I know it, I’m engulfed in a group hug by two pairs of arms. The sweet floral scent entering my nose tells me who it is without having to look at them. Savannah Lee May and Victoria Caro. “Hi, girlies,” I giggle, hugging them back equally as tight. The two let go of me, keeping me at arms length to inspect my entire being. Their make-up is only half done, Savannah’s hair is curled to perfection whilst Tori’s is put up in curlers. “I can’t believe you’re here, Lil’ Shada!” Savannah says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “We were just talking about you last night,” she points at Tori, who nods vigorously. “Yeah! We were wondering when we’d see you again because we missed you after your brother’s wedding!” the smaller girl explains. My heart melts at the idea of these two girls caring so much about me, they’re wondering when they’d see me again. “Aw, you guys! I missed you too!” I pout, trying my hardest not to start crying from happiness. “Hey! What about us?!” Owen’s voice sounds from the back of the trailer. I turn around to find him in the last chair, getting his hair done. “I missed you too, Owen, but I already saw you earlier!” I tell him whilst making my way to Madison and Jadah in the other chairs. I hug them each from behind, making sure not to ruin their neatly-done hair. “Yeah! But you didn’t say you missed us!” he exclaims. His bottom lip sticks out in a pout. Shaking my head, I make my way towards him and place my hands on his shoulders as I stand behind him. “I thought that was a given,” I whisper in his ear and then turn again to find Sacha and my brother near the doorway. The latter is looking at me with happiness emanating from his eyes. “Hey, Sacha!” I offer the boy a wave, which he returns with a smile. A busy-looking woman squeezes past me towards Owen, so I take a step back to give her more room. I watch her as she plays around with his hair, using spritzes of hairspray to keep it in place. I always loved doing other people’s hair when I was younger. I braided all of my cousins’ hair or used curlers on them whilst playing ‘hair-dresser’. My love for hairdressing went out the door as I got older and more anxious, but seeing this woman play around with Owen’s hair so determinedly, it reawakens the desire and enthusiasm. “This is Teresa,” Owen says when he catches me staring at his head and Teresa’s fingers. “She’s a magician when it comes to hair.” Teresa shoots me a kind smile through the mirror, which I nervously return. They caught me staring, that must’ve been a weird -- and kind of creepy, let’s be honest -- sight. “Y/N used to dream about becoming a hairdresser,” Jeremy informs them when he’s taken a seat in one of the chairs too. As both Teresa and Owen look at me with surprise in their eyes, I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “You wanna give it a try?” Teresa asks, stepping aside from Owen. I open my mouth in pure horror, not knowing what to tell her. There’s no way I could ever do what Teresa’s doing. What if I mess it up entirely? What if I ruin all the work Teresa has put into his hair? What if I ruin Owen’s hair? “There’s not much you can do wrong with Owen’s hair. It pretty much just does what you ask,” Teresa tries to reassure me after probably seeing the absolute horror in my face.  I glance at Owen in the mirror. He gives me an encouraging nod. “Okay…” I mumble and step up to his chair. “How do you need his hair?” I ask Teresa. Owen’s character Alex probably has a specific way to how he wears his hair. He’s a ghost from the 90’s, I’m sure it’s a little different from his usual hairstyle. “Leonardo DiCaprio from Titanic,” Teresa simply replies, which is enough for me to know. I nervously raise my fingers to Owen’s head, suddenly anxious about the fact that I’m going to be touching this attractive man’s hair. My eyes dart over to his reflection in the mirror, our eyes locking. He licks his lips before they curl up into a smile that gives me enough encouragement to just go for it. I play around with it a little and grab a comb to guide me before asking the hairspray. Teresa hands me the bottle and I spritz some more of the product onto his blonde locks. Though Teresa has already done the works, pretty much, I’m just left with the finishing touches. It takes me about five minutes to get it in perfect shape. “You can tell you’ve had years of practice,” Teresa says, impressed at my work. “I mean, you pretty much did the gist, I just… finished it…” I trail off shyly. I avert my eyes from Teresa to Owen, who’s checking himself out in the mirror. “No offense, T,” he starts, turning to Teresa, “But I think someone’s coming for your job.” I’m frozen to the floor from the compliments that I don’t even move when Owen gets up from his chair and turns around. Suddenly, he’s mere inches away from me and all I can do is crane my neck to look up at him. A vibe I never felt around him when I first met him surrounds us now, resting down on us like a blanket. I don’t know why this is happening or how, but all I can see for a good minute is Owen and his tender smile. Until he places his hands on my waist, picks me up, and puts me down again a feet further. “I gotta go,” he says with a smile, “See you around, Lil’ Shada.” He boops my nose. The sudden movement startles me a little. I watch him walk out of the trailer before I come back from my daze and find everyone else in the trailer looking at me. “What?!” I ask, confused at why I’m being stared at. “What was that about?” Jadah asks, chuckling as she turns to face me. “What was what?” I ask again, seriously unaware what had just happened. “You, pretty much drowning in Owen’s eyes,” Madison reminds me. The thought of Owen’s eyes looking into mine just minutes ago warms me up from the inside out. Especially the nose-boop. “What?! No, I wasn’t,” I deny, but I don’t think I can hide it from either of these people. Thank God Jeremy had left before Owen. He would not have liked that. Jeremy is an amazing brother, but he can get a little overprotective when it comes to love-interests. “I’m gonna go…” I cough awkwardly, trying to come up with a good excuse, “Find my brother…” That feeling I had in that trailer doesn’t subside for the rest of the day. Sometimes I think it does, and then Owen looks my way or sends me a wink from the other side of the room and I’m back to feeling absolutely and utterly mushy. “Hey, you wanna go get lunch with us, Lil’ One?” Jeremy asks around noon when they’re done filming the scene. I take a look behind him, Owen and Charlie standing there, awaiting my answer. I lock eyes with Owen again, and he offers me a beautiful smile that persuades me. “Yeah, sure,” I reply and link my arm with Jeremy’s. The two other boys fall into step with us, Owen on my left, Charlie on Jeremy’s right. “Where are the others?” I ask. Not that I don’t like the idea of having lunch with these three boys. I just really like hanging out with the others too. “They had to start filming another scene, they had lunch earlier,” Jeremy informs me as we enter the restaurant on the other side of the street from the lot.  Owen takes a seat next to me while Jeremy and Charlie sit down on the opposite side of the table. “So, Lil’ Shada,” Charlie starts after we’ve ordered our food and drinks. “I heard you did Owen’s hair this morning…” I am taken aback by his subject of choice, especially since he makes it sound so teasing. My eyes dart from my brother to Charlie and back, unsure of what to say. Owen jumps to the rescue then, feeling me tense up beside him. “Yeah, she did a wonderful job! Her fingers are kinda like magic.” I look up at him, earning a smile from him in return. “Yeah, well, what can I say? It’s a talent,” I flip my hair over my shoulder confidently, though in my mind I’m wondering where all this confidence comes from. Even Jeremy is a little surprised by it whilst the other boys just laugh. “Maybe you should ask Kenny to start next week,” Charlie suggests with an excited grin. “Yeah! Then you could stay with us longer!” Owen’s enthusiasm dazzles me even more so than the words that come out of his mouth. He wants me to stay longer… “I still have to get through college, you guys. I can’t just quit?” I’m catapulted back into reality as those words roll off my mouth. “Do you know how much college costs?!” Owen and Charlie share a glance, wondering if either one of them knows. “I’m an actor, Lil’ Shada, so no…” Owen whispers in my ear without breaking eye contact with his buddy on the other side of the table. I let out a laugh, shaking my head in amusement. “How long are you staying?” Charlie then asks, his eyes flickering from me to Owen and back. “A week. I start college again next Monday,” I reply when the waitress finally brings us our food. “Thank you,” I say to her with a smile, the others doing the same. “So, you’re just gonna stay a week?” Owen queries before taking a bite from his lunch. “Yep… Going home on Sunday,” I answer. The disappointment in his face is prominent. “But I might come back soon if Jeremy will let me.” My eyes dart over to my brother, who hasn’t said much since we sat down. “Can’t really say no to Lil’ Shada, can I?” My lips curl up in thankfulness. “Besides, I think the rest of the cast would hate my ass if I took you away from them.” His eyes flick towards Owen for a split second. He has caught on to the vibe Owen and I have been giving off towards each other. Maybe it’s not just in my mind. “That’s very true,” Owen agrees, his mouth full of food. I turn my head to look at him, eyebrows raised at his immature way of eating his food. My eyes then fall on his chin, which has a little dressing seeping down it. I raise my hand and swipe my finger across his skin, taking the sauce away. He freezes at that moment, halting mid-chew. “Dressing,” I show him before licking it off my thumb. He swallows harshly and when I look back at the boys on the other side of the table, they’re staring at me too with wide eyes. “Someone ought to get this dude a bib,” I joke, trying to take the tension away. Charlie lets out a laugh, nodding his head agreeingly before turning back to his food. My brother, however, just raises his eyebrows at me. He doesn’t love the idea of his little sister being intimate with anyone. Especially not one of his best buddies. I can’t help it though. I’m a twenty-one year old woman, I have feelings. I have hormones. Jeremy’s overprotectiveness isn’t going to take away the fun from this week. I’m not going to let it. 

And I don’t. I spend the entire week on set, either hanging out with some of the girls or with my brother and the other boys. Teresa lets me help out in the mornings with the cast’s hair, teaching me some new tips and tricks. If anything, it just brings me closer to the cast, which is a nice bonus. Mainly because it also brings me closer to Owen. The connection we created during my time in Vancouver has only grown from that first day. Whenever Jeremy’s  not around or he can’t hear it, the two of us harmlessly flirt with one another and, whenever he doesn’t have a scene to shoot, we hang out together. One day, he took me to Julie’s bedroom set where we sat on her bed and talked until we fell asleep huddled up into a cuddle. Jeremy wasn’t happy when he found us like that. Even though I did tell him it was just an innocent nap. He didn’t take it. My brother’s disapproval didn’t stop us though. We just kept going to that set to take a nap together. It has become my favorite part of the day. “Hey,” he captures my attention. We’re cuddled up on Julie’s bed, legs entangled. My head’s resting on his chest, one arm slung over his stomach whilst the other is squished between our bodies. He has his left arm draped around my shoulder, his fingers trailing up and down my arm. “What?” I ask, looking up at him. He’s staring at the decorative lights above us. “Do you really have to leave tomorrow?” His voice sounds so soft, I’d almost believe he’s sad. “I mean… Yeah… I don’t think I can miss my first classes of the semester,” I whisper as though it’s a secret. My fingers start drawing patterns on his chest and abdomen as my eyes focus on them instead of his face. I’m too scared I might kiss him if I keep looking at him.  “Can’t you follow them online? Or just… I don’t know…” he exhales deeply, my head bobbing along. “I just don’t want you to leave yet.” I want to reply, but people bursting in the room cut me off. I scramble upright, terrified it might be Jeremy. Instead, Owen and I are tackled by Charlie, Savannah and Madison. “Group cuddle!” they scream, making me and Owen giggle. I go back to my previous position while Charlie comes to rest his head on my thigh, his arms around my waist, the rest of his body curled up between Owen and me. Savannah takes Owen’s other side, mirroring my position while Madi rests her head on his stomach. “What were you guys chatting about so intimately?” Savannah asks, followed by a yawn. “Me leaving,” I sigh joylessly. I feel Charlie’s arms tighten around me and Owen tense beneath me. Savannah’s eyes lock with mine, a pout forming on her face. “I don’t want you to leave. It’s been way too fun with you around,” she whispers. “I agree,” Charlie mutters. “Ditto,” says Madison, making me smile widely. Even more so when Owen presses a kiss to my hair. This is where I want to be for the rest of my life. Not on some stupid campus studying for a job I don’t even want to do. I need more time with these people. And I’m going to get it. It’s about time I did something for myself instead of constantly doing shit for others.

“Can I talk to you guys for a moment?” I ask Carolynn and Jeremy at the dinner table. Jeremy halts, his fork lifted mid-air, while Carolynn simply places her cutlery down, giving me her undivided attention. I inhale deeply, trying to gather all of my courage. “I was wondering if I could stay here a little longer? I haven’t talked to mom and dad yet, but I wanna do an independent study this year while interning with Teresa.” Jeremy drops his fork on his plate, a loud clatter echoing through the place. “She asked if that would be something I’m interested in, and to be quite frank, I am. Helping around this week really reminded me of how much I loved doing it.” I glance at Jeremy, noticing how tense and frustrated he’s becoming with every word I say. “Being a doctor was never my dream, Jer. It was mom’s. I think I need to do this. I need to do more things for myself instead of wanting to please others.” “I agree, sweetie,” Carolynn chimes in, offering me a supportive smile before the two of us turn back to the man of the house. He has his lips pursed, clearly mulling this over in his head. “This is about Owen, isn’t it?” he finally asks. The mention of the boy I had grown so attached to startles me at first, I didn’t expect him to be brought up in this conversation since it has nothing to do with him. “He put you up to this?” I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I have no clue what to tell him. On one hand, I do want more time with him and Charlie and all the other cast members. I want more time with my brother. But I can’t hide that it’s mostly Owen that’s drawing me here. Spending time with him made me feel so much more connected to myself, in some way. He calms my anxiety. He makes me feel happy. Genuinely happy. “Of course he didn’t, Jer. Why would he do that?” I finally manage to bring out. “Because you’re clearly in love with him, Y/N!” The loudness of his voice and harshness of his tone makes me flinch. “But he’s not right for you! He’s distracting you from your goals, making you think this is what you want! You don’t know what love feels like but you think you do! You and Owen can’t happen, and you can’t stay here. You have to go back home!” The anger and frustration builds inside of me, and pours out in the form of tears. “You don’t have a say in this, Jer! I am twenty-one, I’m not a child anymore! I can decide what I want to do with my life and I can decide who I love!” I’m surprised by the words that flow out of my mouth. “I get that you wanna be the protective brother, Jeremy, but this is going too far. You have to let me make my own mistakes! You have to let me live my life the way I want it to!” He angrily shoves his chair back when he stands up in frustration, making Carolynn flinch. “You’re still a child, Y/N!” he shouts at me. I stand up too, leaning my hands on the tabletop. “I’m not even a year younger than you, Jer! If I’m a child, so are you!” I yell back. “At least I’m married and have a family!” he aggressively points at Carolynn, who’s rubbing her face in desperation. My eyes flicker from my sister-in-law back to my brother. “I would be in a relationship if you didn’t scare off every person I ever brought home!” “I didn’t want you getting hurt, but did I ever get a thank you for that?!” I scoff at him. He’s not playing the petty card right now. “That’s just life, Jer! People get hurt! People break your heart! But you never even let me experience that pain because you’re too obsessed with being the good brother!” My heart is pounding out of my chest. Jeremy and I have never fought like this. Sure, we used to bicker when we were teenagers, but it’s always been something stupid. This screaming match sounds like years of bundled up distress from both of us. “You have a hero complex, Jer…” I lower the volume of my own voice. Jeremy lets his head drop, knowing all too well I’m right. About everything. About the hero complex, about him meddling in my life. Everything. “I think it’s better if you go to your room for a while, Y/N,” Carolynn orders sweetly. The pent-up anger still hasn’t gone completely, it makes me want to lash out at Carolynn too. “Still not a child,” I mutter instead before grabbing my bag and leaving the apartment. Once the cold Vancouver air hits me, the realization of what just happened does too. The tears escape again, along with anger and regret. I don’t regret what I said to my brother. It’s the truth. It’s exactly what I’ve been thinking for years. What I do regret is telling him all of that in a burst of anger instead of a civilized conversation like we used to back in the day. That’s the only thing I really do regret. After a while of roaming the streets of Vancouver and getting riled up about the whole situation again, I find myself aggressively knocking at Charlie and Owen’s door. I don’t know where else to go and Owen’s the only one who could calm me down from the anger and frustration I’m still holding inside for my brother. I still can’t believe he even dared to say that to me. “Lil’ Shada!” Charlie greets excitedly, but his smile quickly disappears upon seeing my state of being. Jaw clenched, balled fists, tears running down my face. “Hey, Gorgeous, are you okay?” Owen appears in the door too after hearing Charlie utter my nickname. Upon seeing the boy, I race into the apartment, grab his face and bring him down to meet his lips. He’s startled at the force and aggression I’m putting into this kiss, but that soon dissolves when he kisses back. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer and closer until I can’t do anything else but wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me tight, scared he might drop me while my fingers find their way into his hair. I pull back from his lips, but keep my forehead pressed to his. Both of us are panting from the intensity. I can tell from that sparkle in his eyes he  has no clue what happened, but he wanted it to happen for a while.  “I’m gonna stay,” I tell him in a whisper, which only makes the sparkle in his eyes more earnest. Without another doubt, he crashes his lips on mine again. This time, he takes it a little slower, making it more sensational without depriving it from the sizzle from before. I try to forget about the fight I’d just had with Jeremy and focus solely on Owen, but my brain counteracts. His words are on repeat in my mind like syncopated beats. This time Owen pulls back when he no doubtedly tastes the saltiness of my tears mixing in with the passion. He looks at me, the sparkle in his eyes making room for worry. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he whispers, putting me down on my feet again but keeping his arms around me and my body close. “I’m sorry, I just…” I inhale sharply, “I had a major fight with Jeremy and I just can’t shake it. I have never seen him like this…” Owen snakes his arms around my shoulders, pushing him closer into his chest. He lets me cry for a while, holding me in his arms until I’ve calmed down a little. He takes me to the couch where Charlie’s sitting too. I hadn’t even noticed him still in the room, let alone that he moved. “Talk to me, Gorgeous,” Owen whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He’d stopped calling me “Lil’ Shada” a while ago, which makes me feel like I’m more than just Jer’s little sister. Savannah told me it was what he did to anyone he liked. Those little details are his way of showing his appreciation or love to someone.  I like the small details in Owen’s love language. “I wanted to ask him and Care if I could stay at their place a little while longer, and I told him about the independent study and internship I wanted to do while here. For some reason, he thought I was doing all of this for you, that you put me up to this.” Owen inhales sharply at this. I can tell he hates being part of a fight between two people that mean a lot to him. “I told him it had nothing to do with you, but he didn’t believe me. He was shouting and screaming that I was still a child and that I couldn’t make my own decisions. I told him he had a hero complex,” I scoff at myself. This whole fight sounds even more ridiculous now. “Told him that he wants to be the good brother and that he has this idea of being a good brother that doesn’t let his little sister live… or love.” Owen’s eyes flick at mine, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I shouldn’t have shouted at him though… This was all just pent-up anger and frustration from the past twenty-one years. I should’ve just told him to back off like an adult instead of yelling at him like a child.” I glance at Charlie, who had been listening to the entire conversation. His eyes look somber, almost heartbroken. These two boys are just too good for this world. I can’t imagine a life without them anymore. “We both acted like children,” I mutter, shaking my head. There’s rap on the door, shaking all three of us awake from the somber cloud we’re all on because of me. We exchange glances, knowing exactly who’s at the door. Charlie goes first, Owen and me following suit. The anxiety welling up inside of me must be visible to him because he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers as we stand a little behind Charlie as he opens the door. “Hey, Char… Is Y/N here?” I hear my brother ask. The Canadian boy opens the door a little further, presenting Owen and I. Jeremy had been crying too, I can tell. His eyes are red and puffy, his lips swollen from biting on them in distress. “I’m so sorry, Lil’ One,” he mutters from the door. That’s enough for me to let go of Owen and launch myself into my brother’s arms. He’s stunned at first, but then wraps his arms around me too. “I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes, but you have to know it’s only because I love you,” he whispers in my ear, followed by a sniffle. “You’re an adult, just like me, and it’s time I treat you like one.” I push him back slightly but keep my hands on his shoulders. “It’s about time you figured that out.” He lets out a chuckle, dropping his head in defeat. “Hey,” he looks back up. “Thanks for looking out for me. I know you mean well.” “We’re family, Lil’ One, we’re supposed to look out for one another,” he looks past me at the two other boys, “We’re all family.” Charlie and Owen walk up to us, the latter scratching the back of his head with a pained expression on his face. “Yeah, can we not call it a family? Because otherwise, I’m in love with a family member.” He places his hands on my shoulders and presses a kiss to my hair. I meet his eyes whilst my heart beats faster. He’s in love with me. A boy I’m in love with is in love with me too. I mean, of course he is, he wouldn’t have kissed me like that. Jeremy glances from me to Owen and back, trying to decide what to think about this entire situation. I can tell it’s hard for him to let this idea of his little sister go, but he’s trying. “Be careful with her, alright? You might be my best friend, but I will not hesitate to kill you,” Jeremy’s pointing at Owen, a harsh look on his face. “Bro, I could never hurt her,” he reassures my older brother, and me at the same time. “You better keep that promise, Joyner!” That night, Jeremy calls Carolynn over too, and the five of us sit on the couch all night, talking and watching movies. I love being in Owen’s arms so much. Though we used to cuddle and be flirty with each other before, it really does give a whole different vibe knowing I could just turn my head and kiss him now. My parents allow me to stay in Vancouver and go through with my plan, much to all of our relief. Days on set are amazing. I help Teresa and the other hairstylists every morning and during all the scenes when they need touch ups, spend every night at Owen’s and Charlie’s place, and have the most fun I ever had in my life with all these people around here. “Cuddle session?” Owen whispers in my ear when we’re rounding up the scene. His sudden hands on my shoulders and lips against my ear makes me jump at first, but I calm down just as quickly. “Baby, I’m working,” I giggle, clearing all the hair products from the table, knowing he’ll convince me within five seconds. Teresa really is a very loose mentor and wouldn’t mind if I escaped now. “But you’re almost finished though? And Teresa is here to take over from you?” he tries, which makes me look up at him, and then at Teresa. The woman I call my Canadian mother winks at me, letting me know I’m good to go. I turn around in Owen’s arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You are so lucky Teresa’s this awesome,” I tell him and peck his lips quickly. “Thank you, T.” I grab Owen’s hand and guide him to the bedroom set we’d used so many times for cuddles, whether that be alone or with the others. The second we’re in the room, Owen tugs at my arm, making me stumble into him with a squeal. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he cups my face with his warm hands and brings me in for a passionate kiss. He pushes me backwards when I kiss back, right until I feel the bed push into the back of my knees. I crawl backwards, Owen following suit as he’s still attached to my lips. He pulls back for a moment, looking me in the eyes with those tender eyes of his. He’s holding up his weight by placing a hand next to my head, using the other to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you,” he whispers, causing the corners of my mouth to curl up into a smile automatically. “I love you too,” I whisper back and diminish the space between our lips by pulling him down by the back of his neck. My fingers tangle up into the blonde hair I styled this morning. Doing his hair might just be my favorite part of the day, along with this. “Group cuddle!” Our intimate moment is disturbed by a mop of our friends attacking us on the bed. With a groan, Owen drops next to me, the others piling onto us. That lunch break, all of us take a collective nap on Julie’s bed, some on stomachs, on chests, shoulders, thighs. All our limbs are tangled up together, no bystander would be able to tell which limb belongs to who. To say my new job is the best ever would be an understatement. 

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @caitsymichelle13​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​ 

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[remedialpotions]

An Artistic Rendering, part 2

I couldn’t stop myself. (But also, I had a lot of fun writing this so... here. Have it.)

Wednesday night art classes were typically followed by a casual dinner at a nearby restaurant. Usually, Hermione enjoyed this post-class debrief session with her mum, but that had been under normal circumstances, when they’d been working on drawings of flowers or cats or bowls of fruit. Tonight, Hermione was not totally sure how she would tolerate sitting across from her mother for an entire meal, nor if she would ever be able to look her in the eye again.

“So, what do you think you want to order?” asked Mum cheerfully, opening up her menu. “I’m rather hungry, aren’t you? Maybe we ought to order a starter - the bruschetta here is supposed to be excellent.”

“Sure,” Hermione said, staring blankly into her own menu. Words like ‘carbonara’ and ‘pomodoro’ and ‘rigatoni’ floated meaninglessly in front of her. “Whatever you want.”

“Ooh, let’s get some wine, too,” Mum added. Had Hermione possessed the wherewithal to look at her, she would have been goggling in disbelief. How on earth was she so cheerful after what had just transpired? How was she, too, not completely disturbed? “How about Chianti? I never know what’s supposed to ‘pair well’ with something else, I just always get what I like-”

“Great,” interjected Hermione, eyes fixed on a description for chicken marsala. “Sure. Whatever.”

Mum set down her menu; in her periphery, Hermione sensed her leaning curiously toward her. “What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

“‘What’s going on?’” Hermione repeated back, incredulous. “‘Am I all right?’”

“Well-” Mum blinked, taken aback. “I know there were a couple other drawings that the instructor liked better, but she still thought yours was rather good - and you’ve always been better at things like science and maths anyway-”

“It’s not that.”

Just as Mum opened her mouth to inquire further, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and black pants arrived at their table. “Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them. “My name is Nicola and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you started with something to drink?”

Mum ordered the bottle of Chianti (Hermione privately thought they might need more than one by the time the night was over) and the bruschetta, and Nicola flounced away.

“Mum,” Hermione said, once she was sure that their server was out of earshot. “You drew a picture of Dad.”

“Well, of course I did.” Her voice was infuriatingly casual. “He was the obvious subject, wasn’t he?”

“So you don’t think that was awkward for me at all?”

“Yours was of Ron,” Mum pointed out, leaving Hermione to briefly wonder how she was possibly related to someone so level-headed. “I’m certainly not interested in seeing my future son-in-law like that.”

The discomfort of the evening was dulled, at least momentarily, by this implication that she would be marrying Ron. While they were not yet engaged - Hermione was in no rush, and perfectly happy to cohabitate - she was also quite certain that she would be spending her life with Ron, and it was nice to know that her mum was so certain of it too.

Though, perhaps that made the events of the evening even more bizarre.

“That’s different,” replied Hermione finally.

“How, exactly?”

“He’s not in his fifties, for one-”

“One day he will be,” said Mum, “and I’m sure when that day comes, you’ll find him just as attractive as you do now-”

“Oh my God,” groaned Hermione, squeezing her eyes shut against the barrage of unwelcome mental images that her mum had just conjured up for her.

“Well, really.” Hermione forced herself to open her eyes, only to see a knowing, almost smug sort of look on her mum’s face (perhaps they had more in common than she thought). “Am I meant to believe that this was the first and only time you’ve ever seen it?”

“Please stop-”

“And don’t think we don’t know what happened in Australia.”

Before Hermione could inquire further about this - Australia was a topic that almost never arose between her and her parents, for obvious reasons - Nicola returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The instant the wine was poured, Hermione seized upon her glass and drank deeply from it.

“What were you saying about Australia?” Hermione asked, once she had stopped to catch her breath.

“Just that it was clear what had… transpired between the two of you.”

Hermione paused, considering this, hoping her face was not giving anything away. It was true that she and Ron had had sex for the first time in Australia, just days before locating her parents and restoring their memories. And she did not expect her mum to be under any illusions about the nature of her relationship with Ron; they lived together, and before that, she had been quite unabashed about spending the night at his. But it was one thing to know, and quite another to discuss it.

“You could tell?”

“A mother always knows,” said Mum blithely around her own, more reserved sip of wine. “And really, it was just a matter of time. I always knew that.”

“You did?”

“It was always clear to me, and to your dad, that you had a certain connection with him,” said Mum. She had grown thoughtful now, introspective. “Actually, I imagine it was clear to everyone but the pair of you at times.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s why we were always happy to let you spend summers with his family, or spend your Christmas at Hog - at school,” she finished lamely, eyes darting around the restaurant. “You had such trouble fitting in when you were younger, and we were so happy that you found someone who… who understands you, the way he does.”

Hermione nodded, thankful that Nicola had swept over to them with a plate of bruschetta, because she was at a rare loss for words. She always knew her parents had liked Ron, and they’d made no secret of their gratefulness that she had found friends at last in him and Harry. But she hadn’t known that they had seen the depth of their relationship, or understood its uniqueness. Most people questioned what she and Ron saw in each other… but her parents had always known.

“And he really must love you,” Mum went on, helping herself to a piece of toasted bread piled high with chopped tomato, fresh basil, and grated parmesan. “To have done what he did for you.”

Myriad events flashed through Hermione’s mind: Ron, at twelve, vomiting up slugs; at thirteen, telling off Professor Snape; at fourteen, begrudgingly pinning an SPEW badge to his robes; at eighteen, offering himself up for torture in exchange for her. Posing starkers for a figure drawing ranked rather low on his running list of self-sacrifices, and yet it was not lost on Hermione how lucky they were that this was now their biggest concern.

“You’re right,” replied Hermione, taking her own slice of bruschetta. “He really does.”

***

Ron was at the sink, scrubbing a sponge over a dinner plate, when Hermione walked through the door of their flat. “Hi,” Hermione greeted him brightly, approaching him in search of a quick kiss hello. “I’ve brought leftover spag bol if you want it.”

“You know I do.” Ron shut off the faucet and picked up a small towel to dry his hands, then bent to touch his lips to Hermione’s. “A departure from your usual, innit?”

“I didn’t want anything too fancy,” replied Hermione, handing the styrofoam box to Ron, who immediately opened it to peer inside. “I was a bit put off my appetite to be honest with you.”

“Uh oh.” Ron fished a fork out of a drawer. “Dare I ask how it went?”

“You were very well-received,” Hermione assured him, making him grin as he twisted strands of pasta around his fork. “But erm…”

“Yes?”

“My mum… she, er…”

“Oh, no.” Ron paused with his fork in mid-air. “She didn’t have… comments, did she?”

“She did, actually, but that’s not the problem. She…” Hermione waited while Ron chewed his mouthful of pasta. Unlike her, his appetite only increased during times of distress. “She drew my dad.”

To her surprise, Ron burst into raucous laughter. “Yeah, I expected that she would have done.”

“You could have warned me!”

“And you could have warned me that a group of twenty people were going to see my todger before you had me starkers in the sitting room,” Ron grinned, “but you didn’t, did you?”

Though she was outwardly scowling at him, Hermione had to work to keep a smile off her face. “Again, it’s not like I took photos-”

“Merlin’s pants, I bet that’ll be next-”

“And really, it’s quite different when it’s your own father - I didn’t look at it or anything,” Hermione was quick to state, “but even just knowing…”

She broke off with a shudder. Ron set down the container of pasta and folded her into his arms, where she laid her cheek automatically against his chest.

“That sounds traumatic,” said Ron, gently kissing the top of Hermione’s head.

“It really was.”

“Should we sign you up for therapy?”

“Yes, please.”

With another little chuckle, he kissed the top of her head again, and she settled in against him. Her mum had been right: she did have a connection with him that was unlike anything else. She had always known that they would end up exactly as they were now, even when they hadn’t been able to see it themselves.

“So you said your mum had some comments?” asked Ron after a few minutes’ easy silence. “I’m a little scared to ask.”

“Not about the picture,” Hermione said. “Mostly about how… how good you are for me.”

“Yeah?”

“She referred to you as her future son-in-law.”

Ron loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to look down at her with surprise. “Did she really?”

Hermione nodded again. “Does that… freak you out?”

It was not a question of whether he loved her, or was wholeheartedly committed to her; she knew without a shadow of a doubt how he felt. But with marriage came things like babies and home loans and joint vaults at Gringotts, and it was not unreasonable to think that at nineteen, he simply might not be ready for it.

But he just shook his head, and moved in to kiss her again - this one soft, warm, lingering. “Nope. Not at all.”

Happily, Hermione resumed hugging him.

“Maybe next time,” said Ron, his hand rubbing idly up and down her spine, “you lot could do something a little more… you could join a book club, maybe. Something like that.”

“That could be fun,” responded Hermione. “Only, my mum’s got a bit of a penchant for romance novels.”

“Oh. Perhaps not, then…”

[chadpetersondatingblog]

Ask Dr. NerdLove: How Do I Stop Hating Myself?

Hey Doc, long time reader, first time poster. I’m 20 years old and my MAJOR problem is that I am a badly socialized spiteful thrall of technology (or asshole) Needless to say I am disappointed by this to say the least. Shit I’m average and VERY replaceable as far as humans go. When I say very replaceable I mean I am nothing more than student droid 553471. No defining features and modesty works against me as I see myself as a machine, a tool to produce results but I HATE the entire concept of love. I wish that I could become a techpriest doc, i really do.

So anyway, the women in my town do not interest me.

Bars are OK, not a fan of the Saturday night crowd who get blitzed and start fights. Nightclubs, fuck that I went to quite a few and I dislike them immensely. I am quite out of shape and am working out at home until I can be in shape enough to do team sports (if I am to do team sports I should be in shape enough to make a fucking difference, not puking after running 5 feet. Hang out at my local game store a lot, that’s all cool and i enjoy it, not so great for women but i knew the score there.  Conventions at my town fucking suck and are tiny. University, I have SUCH a hatred for communism that will be an instant deal-breaker, also computer science student so I’m at a disadvantage there. I kind of have NO idea of what to do in the real world, if that makes sense, my world is a virtual one and often I wish I could be converted into a tech-priest so I will never have to deal with flesh matters.

Seems that my decisions are powered by hate mostly, I hate communists, I hate hippies, I hate art students, I hate vegans, I support factory farming and would happily demolish a thousand forests to replace them with factories.

I also have such a low opinion of people I am constantly expecting them to stab me in the back or ruin my chances at a career just because they can. Sometimes my anger fades and I receive clarity of my thrall nature.

I genuinely expect women to pass me by and I fully expect them to only humor me to punish me later. Fuck doc, the Tropico 1 soundtrack is the only thing keeping me from thrashing around at my computer desk here.

This is not a question of ‘why don’t girls like me’, its because i’m an simmering angry negative asshole who hasn’t been socialized properly.

I know that this path will not lead to a good place. I have a limited amount of friends, no ones that can introduce me to girls as the friends I’m most active with are the weird-but-fun guys at the game store and my friends that could have led me to women I have fallen away from (moved away and laziness led me to stop talking to them).

I’m fucking 20 now doc, and that is young and I don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground. I have achieved nothing and if my hate continues I will end up far older with way more problems. Time waits for no one and even Time Lords rot.

Therapy is a darned option, I am putting this here so you will not need to.

Yours Sincerely

BalefulEye

You may have put it your letter BE, but I’m going to say it anyway: more than anything else, you need to be talking to a therapist. A therapist is going to be able to provide you with more, long term support and help you develop the skills you need to overcome your anger, than a loudmouth with a blog. The issues you have are deep and entrenched and some of them may be chemical in nature, which will require medication to alleviate. So before anything else, you need to get your ass into therapy. And I mean booking sessions with a qualified professional, not just guided exercises like MoodGym. You need to be working with someone who’ll keep you accountable and call you on your shit.

But whether you do talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, acceptance and commitment therapy, medication or any combination of the above… the issue isn’t that you hate other people because frankly… I don’t think you do. I think you hate yourself and that hate is directed outwards so that you push people away from you. It’s a supremely fucked up way of both protecting yourself and punishing yourself. On  the one hand, by being this angry ball of hate, you keep people at a distance so they can never get close enough to hurt you. But at the same time… you’re also deliberately pushing away people who might want to help you. People who might be your friends. But you don’t believe that you deserve friends. You’re not worthy  of them or of help. And so… you push them away. You put on this snarling dog persona and snap at people and say provocative things because you believe you’re a pile of shit and don’t deserve anything in your life. You know you’re miserable and that’s good because fuck you that’s why.

Part of it is that you know you’re smart. And as much as I hate to quote TV shows at people looking for advice (actually that’s a lie, I do it all the fucking time), I’m gonna quote some Rick and Morty at you. Because you know you’re intelligent. But you also use that intelligence as your excuse to justify sickness. And in this case, that sickness is the self-hate that you’re letting fester at your core. It’s really easy to come up with reasons for it. You’re smart, you should already be doing better, you should be further along, you shouldn’t be a fat lonely CS student and look at all these other fucking people thinking they’re so happy when they’ve got things you’d kill for and FUCK THEM because they’re happy and you’re not.

And here’s the really fucked up part: you’re also going to fight any changes to get better. Not just because being misery is a way of punishing yourself for your perceived and imaginary sins, but because, quite frankly, not feeling this way is fucking terrifying. It may be miserable. You may be lonely and hate yourself and wish the world would just compress into a singularity… but it’s what you know. Just like you’re terrified of the real world. The virtual world may be leaving you feeling empty and hollow – and I suspect it’s reinforcing some of your issues – but you know it. The real world, as much as you know you can’t avoid it, is scary because it has rules that you haven’t mastered, corners you haven’t explored. Here there don’t just be dragons, there be people, people you can’t just ignore, killfile, block, mute or otherwise shape into what you want.

But you know this has to change. You wouldn’t have written to me if you didn’t want to change. And to a certain extent, I think you’re asking for permission to actually start fixing things.

So while you find a therapist – and Captain Awkward has a couple great posts about doing just that – here’s what I want you to do.

First: I want you to start focusing on getting your asshole brain under control. You know the one I mean: it’s the one that’s dripping poison in your ear and telling you that you’re worthless, that people are just waiting for opportunities to hurt you and you’ll never amount to anything. You’re going to do this by simply being a bit more mindful. I know it’s trendy to recommend things like mindfulness meditation for everything and it has the patchouli stink of the hippies and vegans you hate… it’s perfect for what you want. All you want to do is simply get a handle on your brain and feel things clearly and deliberately, instead of reflexively and impulsively.

You’re just going to sit in a chair, with your back straight, your feet flat on the ground and your hands in your lap, close your eyes and breathe. All you’re going to do is pay attention to your breathing. Just focus on the sensations of your breath going in, your lungs expanding, then contracting and exhaling. This will be insanely difficult. Your brain will go off on a thousand tangents, with at least half of them saying “this is stupid, this is bullshit, what am I doing?” That’s fine. That happens to everyone. When – not if, when – it happens, note those thoughts. Literally “Ok, here’s a thought.” And once you’ve noted that you’re having thoughts… go back to focusing on your breathing. That’s all you do. Sit, close your eyes, focus and refocus on your breathing. Do this for ten minutes every day. It’ll help calm the storms in your head.

(If you’re interested in more about this, you may want to check out 10% Happier by Dan Harris.)

Second: You’re going to stop beating yourself up about where you “should” be in life or what you “ought to be” doing or any of the rest of that. You are going to excise “should” from your vocabulary. There is no “should”, there is just “is”. “Should” is a value judgement based on bullshit. “Should” is part of stealing your contentment from you. “Should” is the cudgel that you’re using to pound yourself in the nuts. You are where you are right now. There are places where you would like to be. But there is no place you should be. Your journey is uniquely your own and trying to force it to a specific timeline or itinerary is going to keep you miserable.

Third: You’re going to embrace imperfection. Right now, you’re using the idea of not being able to do something properly as the reason to not do it.

Case in point: team sports. You want to do team sports? Fine, go do team sports. Stop waiting, stop delaying and stop isolating yourself in the name of eventually joining others. You’re using the fact that you’re out of shape as an excuse to not do what you want to do, and I am here from the future to tell you that you will never reach a point where you think you’re “ready,” because being out of shape is an excuse. As soon as you’re in shape, you’ll say you can’t join because you’ve never played before so you need to learn how to play before you can joint a team. Once you learn how to play, you’ll say that you don’t know how to play with a group so now you can’t.

So fuck it. Start playing now. Except you’re going to shift your intentions. You’re not worried about “contributing” – another excuse you’re using to not do something, another flogger you use to flagellate yourself – you’re participating. Find the leagues that aren’t there for the competition but for the fun of it. It may be an amateur softball league. It may be bowling. It could be kickball. You want to find the people who are just there to have a good time, hang out with their teammates and play some games. Not only will this take the “should” out – again – but it’ll mean that you’ll get in shape faster and more efficiently. It’s far easier to stick to exercise that you actively enjoy instead of things that you have to force yourself into.

Yeah, you won’t be very good. Fuck it. The fact that you’re doing it at all is a victory. It’s proof that you can do more than your shitty, asshole brain tells you that you can. You don’t need to excel. You just need those tiny victories. Let yourself suck at it… just so long as you’re having fun and playing with people who are there to have fun. You can join the more serious teams later on when you’ve leveled up.

Fourth: You’re going to get off the computers. Remember what I said about your virtual world making things worse? This is part of it. I can hear the edgelord in your letter, and it’s pretty clear to me that you’re spending your time in corners of the Internet where people gather mostly to stew in their anger and hate. I don’t care if it’s Reddit, Voat, 4chan, Gab, Slack or just the people you follow on Twitter. The more you expose yourself to other negative, angry people, the more your own anger and self-loathing gets reinforced. The more you listen to people who tell you that you’re a worthless pile of shit, the more you believe you’re a worthless pile of shit. The more people tell you that you shouldn’t be happy… well, even if you don’t believe them, that shit sinks in and steals your joy. Cut it from your life as much as possible.

Yeah, yeah, safe spaces, snowflakes, etc. I’ve heard all of it before and frankly, those are the words thrown around by people who are literally afraid of silence. They dress their fear up as bravery and iconoclasm – I’m so tough I tell it like it is, I’m not afraid of harsh truths – because if they stop yelling for five seconds, they’ll be confronted by their own thoughts. Rolling around in anger and misery doesn’t mean that you’re smart, it means you’re in pain. Surrounding yourself with vitriol doesn’t mean you’re tough. It just means you’re hiding from yourself. You become like a shark, constantly moving and thrashing because stopping means ego-death. It means listening to all the things you’ve been trying to block out.

But here’s the thing about those safe spaces: they’re an oasis of calm. They’re a balm to your anxiety, a cool hand to a fevered forehead. They’re moments when you don’t have to have your shields up, when you’re not getting blasted by a cacophony of bullshit. And whether it’s just for a few minutes, an hour or longer… you’re calm. You’re at peace. You’re in a place where you can just be, recharge your batteries and let go of every tense muscle and relax.

So you need to dial the fuck back on where you’re spending time in your virtual world, with all of your fellow travellers who want you to be just as miserable and angry as they are. I suspect that you’ll find that some of your anger and rage subsides.

Fifth: You’re going to find something meaningful and pursue it. It doesn’t need to be practical. It just has to be something that speaks to your very soul. It could be anything – you might volunteer to walk the dogs at a pet shelter, you might plant a garden, you might take up painting or learning an instrument even if you never master it. It doesn’t matter what it is – it just has to be something you do in physical space, something that doesn’t harm anyone (including you) and that brings fulfillment to your soul. One of your issues right now is that you don’t have anything that you want or that you live for. Well now’s your chance. You’re going to start doing something – anything – that has meaning for you. What meaning? That’s up to you to decide.

Don’t know what it is? That’s fine. That means it’s time to explore and figure it out. You’ve got all the time in the world.

Sixth: This may be one of the hardest parts, but it’s also the most important. You’re going to forgive yourself.

You need to forgive yourself for all those sins that you feel are weighing you down. You need to forgive yourself for the anger that’s taken root in you and for the ways you’re disappointed in yourself. You need to forgive yourself for all the things that you feel like you should have done by now but haven’t and also for using those achievements as a yardstick to measure your “failure”. You need to forgive yourself for the pain you’ve caused yourself. You need to forgive yourself for “being average” and for the time that you feel like you’ve wasted getting here. And when you and your therapist reach your breakthroughs and you start clawing your way out of that hole – and you will get there – then you need to forgive yourself for the time that it took to finally take the steps that got you there.

I’m not going to lie to you, BE. You’ve got a lot to work through and you’re in a position that’s really fucking hard to pull yourself out from.

But I’m here to tell you: it can be done. You can do it. You have the strength. You have the courage and you have the ability. You just need to take that first step.

It’s going to be a long and hard road. It is going to suck like few things have sucked before. But the journey will be worth it and the destination even moreso.

You’re going to be ok. I promise. 

All will be well.

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The post Ask Dr. NerdLove: How Do I Stop H

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Ask Dr. NerdLove: How Do I Stop Hating Myself?

Hey Doc, long time reader, first time poster. I’m 20 years old and my MAJOR problem is that I am a badly socialized spiteful thrall of technology (or asshole) Needless to say I am disappointed by this to say the least. Shit I’m average and VERY replaceable as far as humans go. When I say very replaceable I mean I am nothing more than student droid 553471. No defining features and modesty works against me as I see myself as a machine, a tool to produce results but I HATE the entire concept of love. I wish that I could become a techpriest doc, i really do.

So anyway, the women in my town do not interest me.

Bars are OK, not a fan of the Saturday night crowd who get blitzed and start fights. Nightclubs, fuck that I went to quite a few and I dislike them immensely. I am quite out of shape and am working out at home until I can be in shape enough to do team sports (if I am to do team sports I should be in shape enough to make a fucking difference, not puking after running 5 feet. Hang out at my local game store a lot, that’s all cool and i enjoy it, not so great for women but i knew the score there.  Conventions at my town fucking suck and are tiny. University, I have SUCH a hatred for communism that will be an instant deal-breaker, also computer science student so I’m at a disadvantage there. I kind of have NO idea of what to do in the real world, if that makes sense, my world is a virtual one and often I wish I could be converted into a tech-priest so I will never have to deal with flesh matters.

Seems that my decisions are powered by hate mostly, I hate communists, I hate hippies, I hate art students, I hate vegans, I support factory farming and would happily demolish a thousand forests to replace them with factories.

I also have such a low opinion of people I am constantly expecting them to stab me in the back or ruin my chances at a career just because they can. Sometimes my anger fades and I receive clarity of my thrall nature.

I genuinely expect women to pass me by and I fully expect them to only humor me to punish me later. Fuck doc, the Tropico 1 soundtrack is the only thing keeping me from thrashing around at my computer desk here.

This is not a question of ‘why don’t girls like me’, its because i’m an simmering angry negative asshole who hasn’t been socialized properly.

I know that this path will not lead to a good place. I have a limited amount of friends, no ones that can introduce me to girls as the friends I’m most active with are the weird-but-fun guys at the game store and my friends that could have led me to women I have fallen away from (moved away and laziness led me to stop talking to them).

I’m fucking 20 now doc, and that is young and I don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground. I have achieved nothing and if my hate continues I will end up far older with way more problems. Time waits for no one and even Time Lords rot.

Therapy is a darned option, I am putting this here so you will not need to.

Yours Sincerely

BalefulEye

You may have put it your letter BE, but I’m going to say it anyway: more than anything else, you need to be talking to a therapist. A therapist is going to be able to provide you with more, long term support and help you develop the skills you need to overcome your anger, than a loudmouth with a blog. The issues you have are deep and entrenched and some of them may be chemical in nature, which will require medication to alleviate. So before anything else, you need to get your ass into therapy. And I mean booking sessions with a qualified professional, not just guided exercises like MoodGym. You need to be working with someone who’ll keep you accountable and call you on your shit.

But whether you do talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, acceptance and commitment therapy, medication or any combination of the above… the issue isn’t that you hate other people because frankly… I don’t think you do. I think you hate yourself and that hate is directed outwards so that you push people away from you. It’s a supremely fucked up way of both protecting yourself and punishing yourself. On  the one hand, by being this angry ball of hate, you keep people at a distance so they can never get close enough to hurt you. But at the same time… you’re also deliberately pushing away people who might want to help you. People who might be your friends. But you don’t believe that you deserve friends. You’re not worthy  of them or of help. And so… you push them away. You put on this snarling dog persona and snap at people and say provocative things because you believe you’re a pile of shit and don’t deserve anything in your life. You know you’re miserable and that’s good because fuck you that’s why.

Part of it is that you know you’re smart. And as much as I hate to quote TV shows at people looking for advice (actually that’s a lie, I do it all the fucking time), I’m gonna quote some Rick and Morty at you. Because you know you’re intelligent. But you also use that intelligence as your excuse to justify sickness. And in this case, that sickness is the self-hate that you’re letting fester at your core. It’s really easy to come up with reasons for it. You’re smart, you should already be doing better, you should be further along, you shouldn’t be a fat lonely CS student and look at all these other fucking people thinking they’re so happy when they’ve got things you’d kill for and FUCK THEM because they’re happy and you’re not.

And here’s the really fucked up part: you’re also going to fight any changes to get better. Not just because being misery is a way of punishing yourself for your perceived and imaginary sins, but because, quite frankly, not feeling this way is fucking terrifying. It may be miserable. You may be lonely and hate yourself and wish the world would just compress into a singularity… but it’s what you know. Just like you’re terrified of the real world. The virtual world may be leaving you feeling empty and hollow – and I suspect it’s reinforcing some of your issues – but you know it. The real world, as much as you know you can’t avoid it, is scary because it has rules that you haven’t mastered, corners you haven’t explored. Here there don’t just be dragons, there be people, people you can’t just ignore, killfile, block, mute or otherwise shape into what you want.

But you know this has to change. You wouldn’t have written to me if you didn’t want to change. And to a certain extent, I think you’re asking for permission to actually start fixing things.

So while you find a therapist – and Captain Awkward has a couple great posts about doing just that – here’s what I want you to do.

First: I want you to start focusing on getting your asshole brain under control. You know the one I mean: it’s the one that’s dripping poison in your ear and telling you that you’re worthless, that people are just waiting for opportunities to hurt you and you’ll never amount to anything. You’re going to do this by simply being a bit more mindful. I know it’s trendy to recommend things like mindfulness meditation for everything and it has the patchouli stink of the hippies and vegans you hate… it’s perfect for what you want. All you want to do is simply get a handle on your brain and feel things clearly and deliberately, instead of reflexively and impulsively.

You’re just going to sit in a chair, with your back straight, your feet flat on the ground and your hands in your lap, close your eyes and breathe. All you’re going to do is pay attention to your breathing. Just focus on the sensations of your breath going in, your lungs expanding, then contracting and exhaling. This will be insanely difficult. Your brain will go off on a thousand tangents, with at least half of them saying “this is stupid, this is bullshit, what am I doing?” That’s fine. That happens to everyone. When – not if, when – it happens, note those thoughts. Literally “Ok, here’s a thought.” And once you’ve noted that you’re having thoughts… go back to focusing on your breathing. That’s all you do. Sit, close your eyes, focus and refocus on your breathing. Do this for ten minutes every day. It’ll help calm the storms in your head.

(If you’re interested in more about this, you may want to check out 10% Happier by Dan Harris.)

Second: You’re going to stop beating yourself up about where you “should” be in life or what you “ought to be” doing or any of the rest of that. You are going to excise “should” from your vocabulary. There is no “should”, there is just “is”. “Should” is a value judgement based on bullshit. “Should” is part of stealing your contentment from you. “Should” is the cudgel that you’re using to pound yourself in the nuts. You are where you are right now. There are places where you would like to be. But there is no place you should be. Your journey is uniquely your own and trying to force it to a specific timeline or itinerary is going to keep you miserable.

Third: You’re going to embrace imperfection. Right now, you’re using the idea of not being able to do something properly as the reason to not do it.

Case in point: team sports. You want to do team sports? Fine, go do team sports. Stop waiting, stop delaying and stop isolating yourself in the name of eventually joining others. You’re using the fact that you’re out of shape as an excuse to not do what you want to do, and I am here from the future to tell you that you will never reach a point where you think you’re “ready,” because being out of shape is an excuse. As soon as you’re in shape, you’ll say you can’t join because you’ve never played before so you need to learn how to play before you can joint a team. Once you learn how to play, you’ll say that you don’t know how to play with a group so now you can’t.

So fuck it. Start playing now. Except you’re going to shift your intentions. You’re not worried about “contributing” – another excuse you’re using to not do something, another flogger you use to flagellate yourself – you’re participating. Find the leagues that aren’t there for the competition but for the fun of it. It may be an amateur softball league. It may be bowling. It could be kickball. You want to find the people who are just there to have a good time, hang out with their teammates and play some games. Not only will this take the “should” out – again – but it’ll mean that you’ll get in shape faster and more efficiently. It’s far easier to stick to exercise that you actively enjoy instead of things that you have to force yourself into.

Yeah, you won’t be very good. Fuck it. The fact that you’re doing it at all is a victory. It’s proof that you can do more than your shitty, asshole brain tells you that you can. You don’t need to excel. You just need those tiny victories. Let yourself suck at it… just so long as you’re having fun and playing with people who are there to have fun. You can join the more serious teams later on when you’ve leveled up.

Fourth: You’re going to get off the computers. Remember what I said about your virtual world making things worse? This is part of it. I can hear the edgelord in your letter, and it’s pretty clear to me that you’re spending your time in corners of the Internet where people gather mostly to stew in their anger and hate. I don’t care if it’s Reddit, Voat, 4chan, Gab, Slack or just the people you follow on Twitter. The more you expose yourself to other negative, angry people, the more your own anger and self-loathing gets reinforced. The more you listen to people who tell you that you’re a worthless pile of shit, the more you believe you’re a worthless pile of shit. The more people tell you that you shouldn’t be happy… well, even if you don’t believe them, that shit sinks in and steals your joy. Cut it from your life as much as possible.

Yeah, yeah, safe spaces, snowflakes, etc. I’ve heard all of it before and frankly, those are the words thrown around by people who are literally afraid of silence. They dress their fear up as bravery and iconoclasm – I’m so tough I tell it like it is, I’m not afraid of harsh truths – because if they stop yelling for five seconds, they’ll be confronted by their own thoughts. Rolling around in anger and misery doesn’t mean that you’re smart, it means you’re in pain. Surrounding yourself with vitriol doesn’t mean you’re tough. It just means you’re hiding from yourself. You become like a shark, constantly moving and thrashing because stopping means ego-death. It means listening to all the things you’ve been trying to block out.

But here’s the thing about those safe spaces: they’re an oasis of calm. They’re a balm to your anxiety, a cool hand to a fevered forehead. They’re moments when you don’t have to have your shields up, when you’re not getting blasted by a cacophony of bullshit. And whether it’s just for a few minutes, an hour or longer… you’re calm. You’re at peace. You’re in a place where you can just be, recharge your batteries and let go of every tense muscle and relax.

So you need to dial the fuck back on where you’re spending time in your virtual world, with all of your fellow travellers who want you to be just as miserable and angry as they are. I suspect that you’ll find that some of your anger and rage subsides.

Fifth: You’re going to find something meaningful and pursue it. It doesn’t need to be practical. It just has to be something that speaks to your very soul. It could be anything – you might volunteer to walk the dogs at a pet shelter, you might plant a garden, you might take up painting or learning an instrument even if you never master it. It doesn’t matter what it is – it just has to be something you do in physical space, something that doesn’t harm anyone (including you) and that brings fulfillment to your soul. One of your issues right now is that you don’t have anything that you want or that you live for. Well now’s your chance. You’re going to start doing something – anything – that has meaning for you. What meaning? That’s up to you to decide.

Don’t know what it is? That’s fine. That means it’s time to explore and figure it out. You’ve got all the time in the world.

Sixth: This may be one of the hardest parts, but it’s also the most important. You’re going to forgive yourself.

You need to forgive yourself for all those sins that you feel are weighing you down. You need to forgive yourself for the anger that’s taken root in you and for the ways you’re disappointed in yourself. You need to forgive yourself for all the things that you feel like you should have done by now but haven’t and also for using those achievements as a yardstick to measure your “failure”. You need to forgive yourself for the pain you’ve caused yourself. You need to forgive yourself for “being average” and for the time that you feel like you’ve wasted getting here. And when you and your therapist reach your breakthroughs and you start clawing your way out of that hole – and you will get there – then you need to forgive yourself for the time that it took to finally take the steps that got you there.

I’m not going to lie to you, BE. You’ve got a lot to work through and you’re in a position that’s really fucking hard to pull yourself out from.

But I’m here to tell you: it can be done. You can do it. You have the strength. You have the courage and you have the ability. You just need to take that first step.

It’s going to be a long and hard road. It is going to suck like few things have sucked before. But the journey will be worth it and the destination even moreso.

You’re going to be ok. I promise. 

All will be well.

Related Posts

Ask Dr. NerdLove: Is This A Bootie Call?

When It’s Time To Ask For Help

Ask Dr. NerdLove: How Long Should I Wait For Her?

How To Not Be Creepy

How To Be Happy

Ask Dr. NerdLove: Time Enough For Love

The post Ask Dr. NerdLove: How Do I Stop H

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#JaneTheVirgin Chapter 56 Recap & Review

#JanetheVirgin

Chapter 56   Jane the Soon-to-be Published Author

Ok, let me just remind you that we here at SueBooh’s Corner have been crushing on Dennis Chambers, Michael's partner, since the beginning of Season 3.  I see you Chris Allen (call me!).

This eppy was all about needing forgiveness and getting unstuck. I know we’re in Part Three now and it seems like we’re not going to flash back to Jane Gloriana Villanueva Cordero’s childhood in the intro, but I need the Latin Lover Narrator to ease me into the episode; this week, LLN just blurted out, “Ok, Michael died—“  in the recap, like me and the rest of #TeamMichael aren’t still a little raw from his untimely death.  I need therapy, like Jane. 

Early in her widowhood, Jane goes to a therapist because she’s having panic attacks.  The therapist teaches Jane how to do a reality check and figure out what triggers her. Just for the record, you should never get too Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired.  Those are triggers. Don’t ask me how I know.  I just do.

I love that Jane has 89 therapy sessions. If she went once a week, that’s like a year and a half of intense one-on-one counseling. Good for Jane! I wish more people had the means and motivation to take care of their mental health.  Jane uses her coping techniques to deal with Chloe her boss, who is mad passive-aggressive and a Heinous, Appalling, Lousy Tyrant.

Jane hits the Marbella and chats with her BFF/BD Rafael about her job-hate. Raf tells her she ought to quit. And then the Latin Lover Narrator remembers that Abbey, Raf’s post-prison paramour, is at the table, too.  Did Minka Kelley have trouble getting to the set?  Abbey keeps popping up as an afterthought like the JTV writers are letting us know she’s important to Rafael….but not really. Don’t look for Abbey in Season 4, that’s all I’m saying. 

(Eww, what if Abbey is Rafael’s biological sister? Ewwww)

There’s a new Marbella lounge manager named Elvis (now that Scott is decomposing on the Fairwick side of the property line –-Raf and Petra let out a joint sigh of relief about that).  He’s awful, and Jane gives him a few pointers because she, you know, used to work at the Marbella with her friend Lina, who is on the side of a milk carton because no one knows where she is. #HaveYouSeenLina?.

Dargelio are filming their fake honeymoon. Darci is getting a sexy rub down from the cabana boy, a set up to make Rogelio fake-jealous so they can have a fake-fight and Ro can say his reality TV tag line, “I just want to be factored in!” Ro doesn’t care.  He’s pining over Xiomara. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Rogelio joins Jane, Xo, and Alba for a family dinner and Xo gets an email that proves Rogelio knew about“The De La Vega Factor Factor”  producers setting her up as the Evil Ex villainess. Xo kicks Ro out.

Dennis is running the investigation into Scott’s murder. Jane sees him at the Marbella, has a panic attack, and slaps the taste out of his mouth.  Flash back to Michael’s graveside funeral where Jane is numb with disbelief and Detective Dennis walks up, all tall and pecan-brown, with those dimples and sleepy eyes. Detective Dennis takes Jane in his arms and says, “I’m going to check in on you,” all sexy and deep-voiced. I was so ready for Jannis (Jane + Dennis)! I wanted them to bond over their mutual love for Michael! Dennis was telling stories that made Jane smile again; he could have eased her through her pain with his strong, sandalwood-scented arms (I’m imagining, I’m imagining.)

Ro comes over to Alba’s to see Jane with a Ropology basket for Xo. Jane is sure Xo will never forgive him. Really?  Didn’t Xo sleep with Ro’s arch-nemesis, the unfortunately named Esteban Santiago? Didn’t Xo keep Ro’s daughter from him for two decades?  Is three years of being a Reality TV villainess (which Xo obviously signed a release for since her face isn’t blurred, which means she also got paid and free publicity for her little dance studio) that unforgivable? Gather these new writers, Jennie Snyder Urman, gather them.

Jane finds out she’s getting $50k so she goes to give Chloe her two weeks’ notice. Chloe shades Jane, telling her she’s a step above self-publishing on line (hey!) and Jane tells Chloe she’s a bitch and exits stage left.

As far as Scott’s murder goes, Petra’s in the clear, but she really wants to help her boo-thang, Chuck, deal with the bad publicity. And Petra knows from dead bodies turning up at a hotel (Roman Zazo, anyone?). Chuck thinks Petra is catching feelings. Petra dedicates a memorial fountain and scholarship in Scott’s name for good PR.  Rafael winks at her approvingly. That’s all he does. Seriously. Like he and Abbey have no story line.

Jane realizes she’s not getting 50 large all at once but in drips and drabs. She freaks because she needs a job! Even though her son has a $40 million trust fund and her baby daddy owns a hotel and probably knows someone in publishing in Miami, Jane decides she has to apologize to Chloe and get her job back.  I would have sent Rafael over to Chloe’s house and told him to take off his shirt. That would have got her job back with a quickness.

Petra wants to fire Elvis and hire a new lounge manager, but Raf confesses that Elvis is his cellie from the jellie and he promised Elvis a job when he got out. Petra is the opposite of pleased. They have to find a new lounge manager! Rafael is recording the twins’ adorableness and Petra gets the idea to look for clues to Scott’s death on video from that day.  This leads to the BEST COUPLE I NEVER KNEW I WANTED: ROGELIO & PETRA!  Ro was filming DLVFF the day of Scott’s demise so Ro and Petra review footage.  Yael Grobglas and Jaime Camil are hilarious together (“it’s a gem” “you’re going to the gym?” “Your accent is thick" "*Your* accent is thick—“) like Abbott and Costello. If Justina Marcado leaves the show, I VOTE FOR PETRO!!

Jane sneaks into Chloe’s spin class but Chloe’s not having it. If Jane can get an author to reconsider working with Chloe, Jane gets her job back. But Jane talks to Raf and decides to become the Marbella’s new Lounge Manager for no more than two years. Jane says she doesn’t want to get stuck. Then she tells Rafael he’s stuck. Raf decides to take an active part in the Marbella. Petra is glad. And so is Abbey, who the Latin Lover Narrator forgot was there again.

Rogelio finds out Darci sent Xo proof he’d okayed her unflattering portrayal in the DLVFF. Darci is hurt because she unfroze her egg and Ro changed his mind.  I guess Darci only had one egg. No matter, Darci has Kardashian-level fame and that does a good job of masking the empty feeling she has without a baby. Ro recoils at her craven ambition and runs to Xo’s studio to apologize. Ro confesses he was jealous of her relationship with Bruce and wanted to hurt her. Xo gets that torn-between-two-lovers look on her face.  Bruce wasn’t even in this episode, so you know Xo and Ro are getting back together. Oh, and Ro is being sued for breach of contract. $10 million.

Mateo opens his coloring book to a giraffe, a nice call back to Michael and the smelly camping date, and Jane realizes she has to face Dennis. Turns out Jane caught Dennis taking pics of Michael’s Sin Rostro notebooks. Dennis was trying to clear Michael’s name; Jane was angry that Dennis would even think Michael could have anything to do with Sin Rostro. Jane meets Dennis at a boxing gym and they battle it out. Dennis knocks Jane out.  They reach some kind of understanding and agree to maybe meet to box again. I hope so. I hope Dennis takes his shirt off.  Dennis looks like he’s about 6’4”. Haaay.

Chuck thinks Petra cleared his hotel’s reputation because she likes him.  Nope, Petra’s a got a guilty conscience; she nudged Scott’s crusty corpse off the Marbella’s property and on to the Fairwick’s! dun Dun—oh but wait! Rafael meets Elvis the Ex-con in a dark parking garage and says something about Scott’s murder! dun Dun DUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I give this episode a 6.  Most of that six comes from Petra and Rogelio’s scene. And Dennis’s muscular arms.  I like seeing Jane work through her grief; that helps us get to where she is.  Mateo annoys me. He seems like an undisciplined, mis-raised child. I find it hard to believe that the same Jane who would didn’t want him to have a multi-million dollar trust fund would let him be such a brat. I need the writers to make that make sense to me, how Mr. Sweetface became Mr. Badbutt. THE ABBEY TEASE MUST STOP.  Rafael and Abbey need to be front and center next week and whatever Abbey is gonna do, she needs to do. And get Xo and Abuela back in the thick of things. Maybe Xo can teach a dance class for kids at the Marbella and that way everybody has a reason to be at the hotel and something fun and crazy can happen.

To be continued…

Let me know what you think,

xoxo,

Kellybelle