#What is the purpose of a life coach??? What does one talk to them about???? Just had a session and im confused as heck tbh

[livwritesstuff]

i hit 100 followers while i was asleep (absolutely bananas imo but i’m so thrilled y’all are enjoying my steddie dads verse bc i’ve literally never had so much fun writing before) so here's a sneak peek of a wip featuring the Harrington fam

Eddie does not understand sports. 

He may be approaching fifty years old and way past his old ways of rejecting every notion that doesn’t perfectly align with his own interests, but even after all these years, the wires in his brain simply cannot wrap themselves around sports no matter how hard he tries.

And he does try because, naturally, he has three daughters, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel, all of whom play sports.

To be clear – his kids can do literally anything they want, bar none.

He’s still in goddamn awe with the whole arrangement that is the life he lives every day – kids and a house and a job he loves and all that with Steve Harrington of all people. There’s no way Eddie would start fucking all that up by projecting his own weird quirks onto his children. He refuses to be the kind of parent that prevents their kids from doing anything just because they don't get it. If the girls want to play sports, they’re gonna play sports. Nothing wrong with that.

Still, sports are one of those things he takes the back seat and lets Steve hold the reins for, especially now that thirteen-year-old Moe is pretty deep into the whole basketball thing. 

Steve understands the politics of the game, both on the court — like knowing which refs are gonna be biased towards which team and noting Moe’s play-time each game — and off. He schmoozes the coach, he’s friends with all the parents, all the things Moe, at thirteen, doesn’t even notice and Eddie, while aware of it, doesn’t understand. He still can barely follow the games themselves (and he goes to as many as he can, though he and Steve are outnumbered by one and with the prospect of the girls carting themselves around still a distant fantasy their schedule is insane so he can’t make them all). He does his best to follow his husband’s lead but Steve doesn’t always react to things the way Eddie thinks he will. He doesn’t bat an eye when a kid gets smacked in the face with a ball, nor at the impossibly loud thud when someone hits the deck (look — he gets the floor is hollow, but it is loud). He’s completely unbothered by the fit Moe throws every game whenever she’s inevitably benched for having an attitude with her opponents or her teammates or the coach or the ref or just about anybody who tries to get in her way.

As is what happened at Moe’s game yesterday.

Eddie hadn’t seen it — well, he’d seen it, but seeing something and understanding what he’s actually looking at are two totally different things. From what he gathers, Moe had missed an easy shot and gotten pissed off in her own little way about it, so she’d launched herself at whoever on the opposing team had gotten their hands on the ball after it ricocheted off the backboard. Unfortunately for Moe, the team they were playing had a reputation for being a little too aggressive for a middle school league, so when she’d hit the ground, she hit it hard. Moe had been pulled off the court by her coach (carded, maybe? Eddie still isn’t sure how that works in basketball) and scowled on the bench for the rest of the game.

Steve had tried to reason with her on the drive home (an interesting choice, in Eddie’s opinion).

“Darling,” he’d said, “I totally understand being upset about missing a layup, but I don’t know how to get it through your head that intentionally fouling someone isn’t the way to go about resolving that emotion. I love you and I support you, but I’m getting tired of watching you play for three minutes and then sit on the bench for the rest of the game.”

“Talk to the coach then,” Moe had grumbled.

“About what?” Steve exclaimed, “Moe — you do it on purpose!”

The conversation had ended not long later because Moe decided to give them both the silent treatment (a clear sign that she knew she was in the wrong even if she didn’t want to admit it) and Eddie thought that was the end of it (for that game, at least). Then, Moe threw them a curveball by spending most of that evening in the bathroom throwing up, at which point she admitted that her head had caught more of that fall during her basketball game than she’d originally let on.

Steve doesn’t mess around with head injuries (for obvious reasons), so the next morning he calls Moe out of school and brings her to their pediatrician to get checked out.

A couple hours after Robbie and Hazel boarded the school bus bound for their elementary school, Steve and Moe return home.

“So what's the verdict?” Ed asks as they enter the kitchen.

“She's concussed,” Steve announces.

“Like father, like daughter.”

“No sports, no bright lights, no reading, no school, no phone,” Steve says pointedly, and Moe only scowls harder. She’d been using the incident as a leveraging tactic in her crusade to get a phone. Not being able to play sports was a no-brainer; they’d all seen that one coming, so even as recently as this morning, she’d been claiming that she’ll “die of boredom without a phone,” while she recovers.

Even as recently as this morning, she’d been largely unsuccessful.

“Thirteen-year-old children do not need phones,” Steve had told her, “If someone wants to talk to you, they can call the house, and if it's urgent enough that it needs to be right now, you can get walkie talkies.”

“No one uses walkie talkies.”

“Your dad and I used walkie talkies all the time.”

“Uh, pretty sure it was just the one time, Steve,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah! And it worked out great!”

CONTINUE ON AO3

[daegutowns]

svt as your hogwarts boyfriend

tags: hogwarts au, gn!reader

gryffindor: seungcheol, hoshi, chan 

seungcheol: quidditch team beater, quidditch team captain

prepare to be sick of him!! 

very competitive, so match days are always so big for him

if you’re not dripped out in gryffindor colors (regardless of which house you’re in), it’s over. he’ll be so pouty and whiny

“baby, it’s match day. why are you not wearing your custom made quidditch jersey i made for you?”  

“don’t talk to me, you’re wearing [house other than gryffindor] colors. nope, obviously you don’t wish me good luck.” 

big bad quidditch team captain has nothing on his lover 

says he plays better when you’re cheering for him 

claims he’s mcgonagall’s best student

he’s actually very good at transfigurations

he wants to be an auror one day, so this is just a step in the process

mcgonagall actually does adore him

very protective of his quidditch team members and would gladly start a fight to defend any one of them (hot-headed but won’t admit it) 

always says he’ll buy you anything, no matter how many galleons he has to spend

actually gets upset if you try to pay for your own chocolate frog on the train

the type to always want to sit next to you if you share a class together (except potions)

hoshi: quidditch team chaser 

he is mr. horanghae…. mr. quidditch is in my blood…. mr. tiger chaser 

his plans are to become a professional quidditch team player

the british national quidditch team coach has already scouted him out

genuinely a quidditch prodigy, since he’s a muggleborn wizard. just picked up a quaffle and was an instant baller 

mcgonagall’s pride and joy…. she lives and breathes quidditch 

he has nothing else going on for him academically, really -- just trying to pass and that’s it lol 

snape hates his guts. didn’t even have to do much, really 

only asks for quidditch stuff for his birthday

he loves when you shout out nonsense stuff like “get ‘em tiger!” or “horanghae!” or “tiger’s gaze!” during the quidditch match. it’s soooo embarrassing for you but it actually gets him fired up 

the type to fall asleep in class and then ask you for notes afterwards 

chan: 

he wants to be on the quidditch team starting line so bad, but he’s been benched… then injured… then benched again… 

but he’s, like, lowkey highkey very good at defense against the dark arts??? 

like, conjured a patronus at the age of 12 kind of good

comes from a family of aurors (his dad’s side), so this kind of just runs in his blood 

he offers to tutor you in it because it’s his greatest passion in life 

of course, he’ll need some tutoring in all the other subjects…. snape has lit his ass on fire (metaphorically, for legal purposes) due to many badly made, strange potions he’s made 

hufflepuff: dk, mingyu, seungkwan, vernon 

mingyu: quidditch team beater 

of course this big puppy is a hufflepuff! but, he’s the most gryffindor-like hufflepuff ever

even the sorting hat had trouble placing him in the correct house, but ultimately chose hufflepuff 

he honestly didn’t even know if he should be trying out for the quidditch team, but dk brought him there and he barely even had to struggle at tryouts

his big frame and strong arms make him an excellent beater

he still has a fear of heights, he just forgets about it during quidditch (like what)

he loves when you praise him for his quidditch skills, especially after a particularly hard practice or grueling game 

he just wants to be held in your arms near the fireplace, is that too much to ask for ?!?!?!!?!!

surprisingly very smart at most subjects too, especially potions

the only thing he struggles with is herbology (like wtf would he be doing near all these screaming plants or oozing flowers????) 

kind of based for a hufflepuff to not be good at herbology bc of professor sprout but alas…. 

he loves care of magical creatures, because he’s like a dog -- just friends with everyone 

he’s kind of like the cedric diggory type ngl -- well liked, friendly, athletic, smart 

the type to want to walk around the castle holding hands all the time 

deekay: quidditch team chaser 

the most stereotypical hufflepuff ever 

so kind, so loyal, so hardworking, so….. 

the happy virus, sunshine, rainbows shooting out of his ass kind of guy

seriously, there’s not one hufflepuff that doesn’t love him 

he plans on becoming a charms professor at hogwarts one day! 

he’s soooo good at charms 

so much so that girls around hogwarts giggle and call him a charmer

like he got people blushing n shit 

turned down the offer to become captain because it was a lot of pressure! he is still going to be the next quidditch team captain next year. 

he simply did not have a choice in this matter 

loves going to hogsmeade and sitting in the three broomsticks with his friends laughing because it’s so cozy. he wants to live in that feeling forever 

the type to send you a love letter by owl on valentines day to watch your reaction while you sit with your friends 

seungkwan: hogwarts choir soprano 

he is THE boo seungkwan of the hogwarts choir! 

professor flitwick (the conductor of the choir) is always amazed at his performance ability. seungkwan has never Not had a solo in the hogwarts annual christmas choir performance 

likes to watch quidditch practices while he does his divination essays 

he feels like it gives them a certain vibe while he makes up dreams about his imaginary rabbit dying for trelawney 

if dk was everyone’s crush, seungkwan is everyone’s friend

there’s no table he’s not welcome to sit at, and definitely no house that would turn him away

the most social butterfly in hogwarts, even more so than the weasley twins

his networking capabilities is insane, but necessary for his life path 

he wants to work in the ministry of magic, close to the minister of magic 

this requires lots of connections! he wants to collect those wizard society inductions like pokemon cards 

the type to ask you to come to his birthday party as a special guest but he actually invited half the castle and dumbledore 

vernon: 

he’s just here for the vibes 

very seriously collecting all the chocolate frog cards. if you see one, please check with vernon to see if he has it or not. he’ll give away the ones he doesn’t need and is always willing to trade

please help him. this is his life’s goal right now

is really good at quidditch but doesn’t really vibe with organized sports, so he just comes to tryouts to play with other people

tried to start a recreational interhouse quidditch team to play outside of the house matches but it turned messy so he gave up 

really good at herbology and care of magical creatures! he just understands 

not sure what he wants to do in the future, but he’s honestly down for whatever

the type to ask you if you’re free for a date and then forget, so you both end up just asking the house elves in the kitchen for food 

ravenclaw: jun, wonwoo, woozi

jun: quidditch team chaser  

another person who is just here for the ride

just naturally gifted at a lot of subjects, so he doesn’t really study that much for the exams either. it really makes other people mad

once you asked him for help in a class (“jun, why is this the right answer?”) and he just gave too vague answers (“that’s just the order the things are put in.”) that you just kind of gave up 

will definitely be asleep in class if you let him 

history of magic is spent 90% of the time with his head on the desk sleeping away zzz

sometimes just gets really sleepy, what can he say???

a really good chaser, but just plays quidditch because it’s fun

he goes to practice because games/matches are more fun when you’re actually good at playing 

self-dubbed “arthur wen of quidditch”

what does it mean??? you will have to ask him yourself

the type to sneak you into his bed on friday nights so you can spend all weekend cuddling together

wonwoo: prefect  

what an absolute heartthrob

he’s not really a man of many words, so he was genuinely surprised when he became a prefect for his house 

is actually a very understanding and caring prefect

he doesn’t really like taking points away from other houses or giving out detentions and only uses it as a last resort 

you can usually find him reading novels/writing essays in the library (madam pince is very enamored with him) or playing wizard chess in the ravenclaw common room

he’s VERY good at wizard’s chess

if he could be a professional wizard’s chess player, he would.

ron weasley has nothing on jeon wonwoo

a lot of younger ravenclaws like asking him questions because he always explains things so thoroughly and patiently

tutors younger students in other houses for extra money -- fellow ravenclaws free of charge! -- and sends it to his family 

wants to be a professor at hogwarts but still isn’t sure which subject he wants to teach. he figures he could be a librarian like madam pince if he were allowed to be

the type to gift you a new book on christmas every year and highlight/annotate things that reminded him of you 

woozi: 

also legendary in the hogwarts choir

he arranges all the pieces for both the choir and band

wants to be a professional wizard producer and music writer

once got to meet the weird sisters and got a random muggle t-shirt signed by them that he carries like his most prized possession

other than that, he just like hanging out with you, his friends, and going to the quidditch matches whenever ravenclaw plays 

he’s not really that interested in other house matches unless it’s an important one that affects ravenclaw 

he tries to be interested in your house’s matches too (if you’re not a ravenclaw) but you can tell he would rather not 

tends to befriend a lot of gryffindors (like seungcheol and hoshi) for some reason unknown to even himself 

the type to write poems to you when he gets bored in class 

slytherin: jeonghan, joshua, hao

jeonghan: prefect

oh, don’t even try to mess with him, because he will get you back and worse 

definitely takes advantage of his prefect status way more than he should, but rules are meant to be bent 

sneaks you into the prefect bathroom because “you shouldn’t have to take a bath with the rest of the normies” or so he says. 

likes pranks and practical jokes, so he often turns a blind eye to the weasley twins when they stir up trouble 

they have an unspoken partnership

weasley twins don’t prank him, jeonghan doesn’t snitch on them 

it’s honestly a win-win for both of them. 

he’s really good at charms

this is mostly because it teaches you shortcuts of how to do everyday things but just faster and lazier with magic 

his favorite is using the duplication charm to make copies of polaroids he took with you so both of you can have a copy of it 

he likes messing with the younger students and getting them to loosen up (like what are they always so serious for?) with him + reminding people when to have fun (but also when to buckle up!) 

the type to ask you on a date to three broomsticks and then prank you into thinking he forgot his wallet in his room 

joshua: head boy 

classic head boy vibes from a gentle sexy. jk he is so chaotic, but no one really expects it from him until after he gets all these privileges 

you want a permit to paint a brick pink? just a single brick? okay done.

you want to rearrange the quidditch trophies by most to least impressive accomplishment? okay done. 

you want to take a date walking around the castle while he patrols the hallways? okay done. 

he lives for the things that are ambiguously not breaking the rules but definitely not abiding by them either 

kind of athletic (grew up playing quidditch in his neighborhood around the other wizard children) but never liked it enough to actually play for the team

it’s way too competitive + he wants more time for you. it’s already hard enough with all the head boy stuff 

also was in the hogwarts band but then it was too much work so he only did it for a year 

very gifted in potions and transfigurations! 

he always wants you to teach him the more boring subjects like history of magic since he always finds himself doodling instead of listening or dozing off in that class

his dream is to become a healer at st. mungo’s hospital for magical maladies

likes to tease you that you’re mrs. head boy 

he treats you like you’re the first lady and he’s the president. it’s a very american way of thinking, but then again, he is american. 

if he catches you doing bad stuff, you’re legally required to write him a love letter. it’s the rules. no detention, no points taken away from your house. just a nice love letter. 

the type to let you dress/style him for all your dates because he wants to have matching outfits always

hao: quidditch team seeker

he’s actually one of the most popular people in slytherin house due to his insane skills as seeker

his catch rate is insane, like he can sniff out the snitch on the field

he’s already set to play for the national team in the U20 league and for the montrose magpies (the british-irish quidditch league team with the most wins)

his knack for flying was discovered during their first year flying class with madam hooch. after the class, she spoke with snape and set him up to shadow the quidditch team to be on the starting lineup starting his second year

he pretends like he doesn’t care if you come support his matches or not but is always visibly happy when you do

the times when you can’t because you’ve got a big essay due the next day or you’re sick is when he pretends he doesn’t mind (because you gotta focus on yourself too!) 

his favorite subject is divination (because he really vibes with the tea leaf readings)

but, his best subject is astronomy. he’s the best student as has been the best student in astronomy out of your entire year (all 7 years!) 

the type to ask you if you want to share your scarf while you walk around the castle together 

[jamiesfootball]

Season two of the Ted Lasso rewatch and I am having some string feelings. Some strong feelers. Some shrimp about Ted and Jamie and how Ted really, really struggles between being Coach Shaped and being Dad Shaped when it comes to Jamie, and how Jamie is horrible at discerning either.

(Buckle up this is gonna be a long one)

Because what we start off with in season one is very much a man who is used to being Coach Shaped. He wants the boys to be inspired and to learn about life and to become the best versions of themselves that they can be. All of which could be very Dad Shaped, but in execution they’re not.

He steps back to let people grow, and sometimes that involves letting bullies be bullies so that the true leaders of the group can step up. Sometimes it’s letting Nate roast the other players- quite cuttingly at that - to get the team motivated. He’s directing the orchestra sure, but he’s not in the pit telling people how better to get along. He’s warm and welcoming, and he tries to foster good rapport and encourage people to talk to him and open up. He, dare I say it, actually has boundaries with people. He asked Rebecca in the first episode how she was holding up with the divorce, and when she seemed upset he noted it, offered a little commiseration, and moved right along without making a fuss.

And then he calls Jamie Tartt into his office to give him a compliment sandwich (“you’re a great athlete now pass the fucking ball and then you’ll be a super great athlete okay thanks”) and I think that’s where Ted’s boundary with Jamie first starts to erode. Because Jamie unintentionally ruins his whole fucking script. Jamie’s disaffected act crumbles at the first compliment. He’s sincerely taken aback by Ted’s praise, a little nervous and a little pleading. He breaks the rules of compliment sandwiching by demurring “well I work really hard”, which forces Ted to agree which is in a way TWO compliments, and when Ted tries to push through with his critique, Jamie ends up critiquing himself first about something completely different (“my left cross”), and then Ted has to wrestle them back to the actual critique, and the whole thing is just. Definitely not the ordeal Ted thought it would be.

So from early on we have these two working at cross purposes - because Ted thinks he’s being Coach Shaped, but the Shape he is doesn’t fit any Coach Jamie has ever had.

“what’s he like?”

“Great”

“…….”

“Well great at football”

“Yeah, I’ve know guys like that.”

And in return, Ted has known ‘guys like that’, competent athletes who are a necessary part of the game, but have such egos (“I’m not sure you realize how mentally healthy that is”) that Ted thinks he has to go to his players girlfriend for insight on how to motivate Jamie in the way that Ted needs for team cohesion.

So this is Ted trying to be Coach Shaped and give this kid a wake up call and this kid is so receptive that Ted barely had to lift a finger. But it doesn’t stick.

Ok. So next he attempts to give Jamie a book that he thinks will wake him up to the reality he’s living. He gave them to everyone. He’s still being Coach Shaped. He makes Roy and Jamie sit at the same table and tries to orchestrate a truce. He kinda gets there, but the next episode they’re still at each other’s throats. Jamie listened to Ted about the one in a million / one in eleven thing, but then Jamie ignored it. So he benched him. He’s Coach Shaped; it wasn’t personal.

Except Ted is not has not been anything Coach Shaped that Jamie could recognize, and football really is his life too. So it was very fucking personal. And here’s the first wrinkle in the narrative both of them have been telling themselves, because what does Jamie do? He fakes an injury and benches himself.

If Ted doesn’t think he should play, or doesn’t think that the way he’s playing is correct, then fine- he’ll make them both miserable. He just won’t fucking play. It’s kid logic at its finest. It’s cutting your nose to spite your face. ‘Well you said I wasn’t doing it right, so I won’t do it at all.’

It’s the same shit Jamie pulls on his dad when he leaves Man City to go be a reality tv star.

And it’s the first crack in the veneer between them, because the way Ted loses his shit at Jamie for it is not very Coach Shaped, but it is very very Dad Shaped. And unfortunately it was the sort of Dad Shaped that Jamie did recognize.

It’s the first loss of control Ted has in general, and it’s circling this player that Ted can’t seem to get a grip on.

And then there’s Jamie going to Keeley, and he’s got Manchester on his mind. It’s the first time we’ve heard him talk about the council estate he grew up in, and Keeley is telling him to stop battling people who want to help him. So he goes to the bonfire. And he talks about the fucking footprint his dad left in his wake. And he talks wistfully about his mom being proud. And this isn’t just about opening up to the team, it’s also about Jamie Tartt not battling Ted. Taking a risk that even if Ted isn’t very Coach Shaped, even if he appears closer to Dad Shaped than Jamie would like, whatever Ted is - Jamie is probably safe to be a little honest.

It’s not very Star Athlete With An Ego of him; but it’s very very Son Shaped.

“I was just starting to get through to him.”

Ted’s anger with Rebecca could be Coach Shaped. It could be. But it sure hurt him enough that it’s the first time he’s actually angry with Rebecca. Meanwhile Jamie was so hurt he had to tell everyone who would listen about it. Had to iterate that it was good riddance on being rid of Ted Lasso, because at least Pep was a proper Coach Shaped Coach. Someone who’d drill Jamie on the technicals. Someone who probably never once cared enough to pull him aside and tell him if he did a good job. Someone who probably assumed that’s what Jamie’s dad was for, showing up after matches.

“Good luck out there, Jamie!”

“Fucking mind games.”

Whatever Jamie already thought of Ted as a coach must’ve been rolling in the pit Jamie tried to bury it in, because Coach Shaped men don’t cheer you on when you’re playing for the other team. Pep wouldn’t do it if he still played for Richmond.

And maybe Coach Lasso does it for everyone he coaches. Probably. But it’s a very Dad Shaped thing. And fuck, Jamie’s actual fucking dad doesn’t cheer for him at all when Jamie isn’t playing for Manchester, so how’s Jamie supposed to know what it means?

Then there’s Ted, who just can’t help himself. Who can’t help but see potential in Jamie. And when he sees Jamie after the match, it’s a quick war on whether he should speak to him because in that instance Coach mode and Dad mode are in alignment.

Except reality hits as hard as a boot against the wall, because Jamie has a dad. And it’s not Ted. It’s not someone who’s come to tell him well done, or that he’s proud of the baby steps Jamie has taken, even though he’s been left to walk them alone. It is the opposite of what a father should be, but it’s taken up the mantle. Father Shaped. A thing of fury. A role fulfilled, not looking for new applicants.

Coach wins in that moment. Ted turns and walks away, and Jamie can finally see now in Ted Lasso the Coach Shape he’s familiar with.

Except even that can’t stick around and be familiar can it? Because while no one was looking, the Dad Shape in Ted scribbled him a little message. Left a note in his absence to let him know he was proud. Sent Beard with an army man, someone to lookout for Jamie and keep him safe. I’d say at this point a Ted Lasso couldn’t’ve drawn a line between Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped - this was a matter of pure human empathy, and decency, and an apology in its own way. I’m sorry for the roles we’ve been given. I’m sorry, but please know I care.

He walked away from Jamie and his dad. He didn’t have any obligation to Jamie. There was no more match to be won. Any involvement of Jamie Tartt in Ted’s life coulda woulda should’ve ended there.

“There’s something out there worse than being sad, and that’s being sad and alone. And ain’t nobody in this room alone.”

The look on Jamie’s face in that scene says it all. Because he is alone, but Ted clearly (desperately) doesn’t want him to be.

But being alone is better than being stuck in a room with James Tartt Sr.

Jamie doesn’t go to Ted first after Lust Conquers All. Why would he (think he had the right to)?

The first thing Jamie does do (after Keeley tells him it’s ok to go to Ted) when he meets Ted again is show him the Ted (Danson) Soldier. Ted may have made the gesture, and Jamie may have understood the meaning of it, but he does Not understand Ted. Not this Coach-but-Not-a-Coach. Still Jamie thinks he has the distinction down - what soft underbelly he thinks he needs to bare for this type of Coach to believe him when asks for a chance to come home.

“You were getting good minutes up at City.”

Ted redirects Jamie here in a very Coach Shaped way. He guides Jamie into admitting the real reason why he quit. He hears Jamie out, makes observations about how Jamie coming back would work from a team perspective, and makes only occasional eye contact. This is Ted clinging to a role that he’s used to, the one that comforts him in its ability to help other people.

(If there is something Dad Shaped in that scene, it’s an awful, haunting one. Not the one that Jamie grew up with, but the one that Ted grew up with. The one who took his son to play darts every Sunday for six years, who probably sat next to him and drank beer the way Ted does)

But Ted never set out to be anyone’s dad. He’s their Coach, and he has a responsibility to everyone on his team. It’s nothing personal; he’s just being a Coach.

They clink glasses. Cheers, and best of luck to your future endeavors.

There is something very tired about the way Jamie puts down his beer without taking a sip. He looks lost. He does not look surprised. (How could you have expectations for something you’ve never known? And how come that doesn’t make him feel any better about it?)

We don’t see Jamie after that.

We see Ted at training, worrying about Dr Sharon watching the team he’s made. He worries that she’s getting closer (metaphor). When Sam storms off the field, Ted is startled but relieved to follow. He doesn’t want self examination. He wants to be Coach. He wants to embrace the parts of coaching he’s always loved- helping other people improve and be better.

Sam tells him that he doesn’t want Jamie back on the team, and there’s a split second of relief from Ted because he made the right call.

Then Sam talks about his father, and how his father is grateful for Ted because with Ted around, he knows his son is safe. Because this has nothing to do with being Coach Shaped. Coach Shaped he may be in Sam’s life, but here’s Sam, who is very Son Shaped himself, and his father agreeing that Coach Lasso serves a greater purpose in Sam’s life than just being a supportive motivator. In their mind, in the absence of a father, Ted Lasso will do just fine. He will keep Sam safer than any little green army man.

That’s the final inexorable blurring of the lines for Ted, where the coach finally drops the ball to pay attention to the scraped knees that have been left behind.

Ted calls the Diamond Dogs meeting. Coach Beard and Coach Nate are very Coach Shaped indeed. What about the teamwork, Ted? “He’s the poop in the punch bowl.” Leslie is for bringing him back, but it’s for football reasons. It makes managerial sense.

But none of it means anything to Ted because at that moment he can not find it in himself to be Coach Shaped.

“I thought it was settled, but Sam went and unsettled it.”

“He reminded me that not everyone is lucky enough to have a good dad.”

“In sports aren’t we always on about second chances? Shouldn’t that apply to people too?”

This is not Coach Shaped. In some ways it’s not even Dad Shaped. But it is caring, and empathy, and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to try again. It is Love Shaped.

Ted Lasso is a coach to his team and a dad to a great little boy down in Kansas, and for Jamie Tartt he can try to fit on a third extra thing. Whatever that thing is called. Neither of them know what that thing is called. They’re too familiar with Coaches and too unfamiliar with Dads to know the difference.

[tobiasdrake]

An under rated skill of goku's is his general awareness. Generally speaking, he's very good at noticing power. That's why when he lets his foes reach full power (like Frieza) he's the one who clowns them, unlike Vegeta who gets clowned whenever he does that.

With that in mind, it's very fitting that he knows Instant Transmission. It's a skill whose fundemental requirement is being able to sense the strength of others

It's worth noting that Vegeta and Goku's situations there are starkly different - though not as much as you might think.

Frieza up to that point has been so courteous as to provide a running tally of how much ki he's using at a given point.

Goku can make a confident assumption of what 100% Frieza will look like because he's already experienced 50% Frieza. Nonetheless, Goku's motives were the same as Vegeta's all the same.

Like Vegeta, Goku was drunk on Saiyan battle-lust when he decided to both a) let Frieza power up to 100% and b) remain on Namek while everyone else was being whisked off to the safety of Earth. Though Goku's battle-lust was also driven by a desire for revenge.

But, as Kaio points out, the battle-lust of the Super Saiyan's taken hold of Goku's senses. Given the choice between revenge and a fight, Goku's more interested in the latter.

By contrast, at the time Vegeta made this boneheaded decision:

Nobody had any idea what Perfect Cell would be like. Not even Cell.

Notably, both Goku and Vegeta at their respective times were also channeling the Super Saiyan, which - as Kaio noted above - includes among its effects heightened aggression and impaired decision-making.

After being told multiple times that the Super Saiyan is a hyper-aggressive ultra-warrior, Goku finally had the chance to experience it on Namek. His assessment was "Gohan needs to leave before this form makes me do things to him too."

In an ironic twist, we even see the arrogant cruelty of the Super Saiyan intermix with Goku's own pleasant demeanor in the form of the cruel mercy he offers Frieza.

Goku's never cared about shredding someone's pride before. He's in it for love of the game. He just wants a good fight.

But here, he's like, "I've broken your spirit, your body, and your will. Run off and cower under a rock and spend the rest of your life agonizing in terror about your pathetic inadequacies, you useless trash mongrel."

He doesn't even want Frieza to train up and come back to fight him again like Piccolo and Vegeta; He's legit telling Frieza to go wallow in defeat. And that's. Just. Not how Goku talks to people he's beaten. Super Saiyan Goku is a very sore winner.

Letting Vegeta become a Super Saiyan is like getting a squirrel high on speed. He was battle-hungry and aggressive enough already, but now he's battle-hungry and aggressive squared.

Goku, for his part, worked hard on controlling this enhanced aggression. When Gohan first became a Super Saiyan, Goku tried to coach him through managing it as well.

This was part of the purpose behind Goku and Gohan's mastery of the state during their RoSaT training. After giving up on the idea of breaking the Super Saiyan's limits, part of the purpose behind mastering the Super Saiyan itself was to eliminate the enhanced aggression.

Get rid of the ki bleeding, get rid of the psychological byproducts, and normalize it so that it's as natural as their base states. There's even a cool visual effect you can pick up with it.

When a character turns Super Saiyan, their eyes turn sharp and angular to indicate their enhanced ferocity.

It's a look characters get when they're mad or focused, but the Super Saiyan always looks like that. Even when contemplative or scared, a Super Saiyan looks pissed as hell.

But once Goku and Gohan master the state, they're able to have gentler, rounder eyes in this form even while they keep the angular Super Saiyan eyebrows.

This is a man who is no longer resisting a compulsion to start throwing hands at everyone in the immediate area. The Super Saiyan answers entirely to him now, with no drawbacks.

...but when Gohan's rage boosts mix with the ultra-fury of a limit-broken Super Saiyan to form Super Saiyan 2, all of that bad decision making comes sweeping in again. The aggression...

...and the cruelty.

So. Yeah. Super Saiyan is a hell of a drug.

So far as Goku and Vegeta go, however, there is one other interesting point of comparison to be made. Against Frieza and Cell, they made similar choices, but their circumstances are admittedly a little different. Though it's worth noting that there is one other data point of interest.

For that, we turn to Majin Buu. Here, Goku and Vegeta make similar choices to forego Kaioshin's quest to thwart Majin Buu, instead choosing to have their long-awaited rematch with one another. Vegeta starts it when he throws a fit during Gohan's fight with Dabra, condemning this whole thing as a waste of time.

Borrowing the same power from Uranai Baba that once let his Grandpa Gohan face him in the ring of martial arts and say goodbye, Goku has a 24-hour reprieve from death so that he and everyone who loves him can have their closure. Appropriately, he chose to spend it at the Tenkaichi Budokai - before all this Kaioshin nonsense happened.

For Vegeta, this meant an opportunity to face Goku in the Tenkaichi Budokai. To have one last chance to truly surpass his rival, rather than living with the uncertainty of never measuring up to a gravestone. And all of this nonsense is denying him that.

But it's not quite so innocent as "I want one last fight with my rival." Vegeta wants to win that fight. By his own later admission, the hissy fit he throws here is a ruse meant to attract Babidi's attention. He's seen firsthand that Babidi can bring out incredible power and cruelty from people, and wants Babidi to fix him.

Vegeta wanted this fight. And he wanted to win it. He wanted to be the version of himself that could win it. Nothing else mattered.

As for Goku? Well.

Goku wants this fight too. Kaioshin pleads with Goku, telling him that he'll have to go through him. Goku accepts those terms and intimidates Kaioshin into surrendering and letting the fight happen.

Goku, notably, does still care about thwarting Buu. He sends Gohan and Kaioshin off to deal with that while he faces off with Vegeta. Goku is a complicated man. He wants good things for people and to have thrilling battles, and when the fists begin flying, he's visibly having the time of his life.

He just. He thinks they can afford to get away with this. Neither Goku nor Vegeta takes the threat of Majin Buu seriously. This much was evident when they started playing Janken to decide who fights Babidi's minions in the first place.

As Vegeta explains once Buu does awaken and they do start to sense his ki:

Goku and Vegeta are powerful beyond even the reckoning of the highest gods at this point (pre-DBS). And so even when Kaioshin begs and pleads with them to take this seriously, that Majin Buu is truly dangerous, his words fall on deaf ears.

Goku takes it more seriously than Vegeta does. He starts this fight insisting that he's going to go Full Power against Vegeta from the get-go to try and end this as fast as possible.

But he still plays along. He's been playing along.

This is the tragedy of the early Buu arc. Neither of them really cared about thwarting Majin Buu. They just. Assumed they could handle it. Because they were so powerful that they made everyone Kaioshin was intimidated by look like jokes, and they expected no different of Buu.

Just like with Frieza. Just like with Cell. At least they're consistent.

[youremyheaven]

this might be a kinda niche observation but i have noticed women who are venusian plus saturnian are Not very nice 😭 i know two women who's entire chart is basically 50/50 venusian naks and saturn naks and one thing i've noticed they both do is try to remix traditional gender roles into some sort of female empowerment thing

for example, one of them is constantly going on dates with older rich men which by itself is like fine whatever but she tries to act like she's this genius feminist for doing it. like no babe.... you're still conforming to gender roles by essentially selling yourself to rich men to eventually become their spoiled housewife, if anything she's putting a capitalistic spin on it. i think this is because of the saturnian urge to conform to traditions meshing with the venusian urge to date lots and surround yourself with money and beauty

the second girl is obsessed with traditional beauty standards for im assuming the same reason. she literally often says things like "i love entering a room and knowing i'm the prettiest one there" and "walking down the street watching people gawk because i'm the most beautiful one here". it's so cringe and low vibrational, not to mention misogynistic yet just like the other girl she tries to put a feminist spin on it. she has a whole twitter account dedicated to unlocking your "divine feminine", which is a real thing but she does it in such an incorrect way like telling people what plastic surgery they need to be "perfect" and of course, how to attract a rich man. it's a combo of venusian vanity and saturnian rule following (the beauty standards being the rules)

also, they both HATE eachother 😭

that sounds about right ngl

I feel like Venusian women who are not drawn to the arts and are somehow unable to channel their creativity make it their sole purpose in life to pursue romance and 😬it kind of messes them up?? My grandma is Purvaphalguni Moon and she was a very talented singer back in the day and wanted to study Music in college but her family was against it and made her study to be a teacher and then she ended up marrying my grandad and also cheating on him and ngl it ruined her life,,, anywayyss I feel like Venusians were meant to pursue all of the themes of Venus, ESPECIALLY its creativity because art will fulfil you in ways no man or relationship can and in the absence of it, all this excessive materialistic pursuit of relationships brings out the corrosiveness of Venus.

Venus is capable of immense devotional spirituality, its not a shallow planet or influence by any means but to get to the spirituality (of any planet tbh) one has to transcend its more superficial material manifestations. I think Venusian fixation on romance, relationships etc can be very damning. I know a Purvaphalguni Moon girl who cannot be single for even a second and she said she can't get married because she will cheat on him 😭

I know several Venusians who are like you mentioned but damn that Venus and Saturn combination you talked about is lethal,, they can lead themselves to such a shallow hollow and empty life. Ngl I feel like all those "dating coaches" online who talk about "10 ways to marry a rich man" are all Venusian/Saturnian women and sorry to break it but I promise it never works out. If a man knows that you're with him for his money, I promise you no amount of money he throws at you will be worth the mind games and psychological abuse that will ensue.

I have a friend, Bharani stellium who is from a well to do family but she dreams of marrying someone filthy rich and being a housewife. She's also Saturnian lmao but I feel like her idealized visions of being someone's trophy wife will lead to some bitter experiences. Bc first of all Indian men are trash, second of all, rich people are trash and a rich Indian man and his family are probably capable of god knows what insanity. I think about that video of Shah Rukh Khan, aka the biggest actor the country has ever seen at Isha Ambani's (billionaire's daughter) twins birthday party where they'd brought out snakes??? (rich ppl things bc who tf would bring snakes to a toddler's bday party??) and Isha's brother picks up a snake and puts it on SRK's shoulder from behind, catching him off guard. Like ik its obviously not poisonous but like ??? thats so rude??? imagine just putting a snake on someone without their consent??? its that asshole's entitlement that makes him believe he can get away with anything. any video of the Ambani kids is a testament to them being rich assholes but anyways point is, rich people are fucked up and its insane to me that women want to sign away their autonomy by marrying into these families??? like are they dumb??? how naive do you have to be to believe that they'll be rich AND nice to you?? lol?? and you cannot raise a finger against them bc money will silence everyone, even the courts. look at what happened to amber heard and what's happening to angelina jolie. these are powerful, influential women, not housewives to rich douchebags but even then, they suffer. now what would happen to a regular woman???

anybody who dreams of being a trophy wife feels absolutely delusional to me. its so important to maintain your independence. like by all means i want to marry rich but i dont ever want to be in a position where im financially dependent on a man. THATS DANGEROUS. quite literally.

[papermint-airplane]

Eleanor: Whoa whoa whoa, what do you mean 'who is Aiden'?! He's the Bachelor! You know, the whole reason we're competing in the first place?!

Angela: Surely you can't be serious!

Rose: I am serious! 🤭 And don't call me--

Viridia: IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE, I WILL END YOU MYSELF.

Eleanor: Gaaaaaaah, I hate you people.

Angela: Then I guess I need you to explain a lot more than the murder attempt because if you aren't competing for Aiden's heart -- the alleged premise of the show -- what are you competing for?

Rose: I. keep. TELLING YOU! I want to WIN! 😠

Angela: Yes, but win what?!

Rose: Uggggh, you're so dense, it physically hurts. 😩

Viridia: STOP TALKING IN CIRCLES AND JUST EXPLAIN SOMETHING FOR ONCE!

Rose: Haven't you ever heard the expression 'winning isn't everything, it's the only thing'? 🙄

Angela: Yeah, I've heard toxic Little League coaches say that to crying seven year olds. And?

Rose: Seriously?! It's the principle I've based my entire life on! It's my mantra! My raison d'être! 👿

Viridia: WATCH OUT, SHE'S GOING FRENCH AGAIN.

Angel: So the whole reason you snuck back into the house, disguised yourself as a mime, sloppily painted your blue stripes purple, tried to kill Angela, and potentially scarred Aiden for life was...because of an expression everyone uses ironically?

Rose: It's not ironic to me, dammit! It's my sole purpose in life! Everyone knows that, even the Watcher! And she...she used it against me. 😓 She promised me that if I made the competition interesting for her, she'd let me back into the house.

Eleanor: Wait. What?! Say that again.

Rose: When I broke into her control room, she made me an offer: I'd get to come back and compete again as long as I did something to shake up the status quo. She was getting bored of you idiots. 🥱

Angel: I-I can't believe this.

Bailey: I know what you mean...

Angel: One of us got to meet the Watcher in person and it wasn't me.

Rose: Look, Angel, if it makes you feel any better, she's not what you think. She's...crazy. 😦

Bailey: High praise coming from you.

Rose: And not only that, she seriously doesn't know how 'Earth reality shows' as she calls them work because holy shit, this whole thing has been one clusterfuck from the beginning. 🙄 She says it's a Bachelor-type dating show but she's run the whole thing like a survival show with the challenges and eliminations. I mean half of us haven't even met this Arwin-or-whatever, let alone been on a date with him. What sense does that make?! 😵

Aiden: It's Aiden. I'm Aiden!

Eleanor: You're right. I thought this whole thing was shoddily arranged but I've never seen any reality dating shows. For all I knew, this is how they're supposed to be.

Rose: Well I've seen hundreds of them, and believe me, this is not how they're supposed to be. Arlo is supposed to spend time with all of us one-on-one, not be shoved into a pod by himself ninety percent of the time. 😣 I don't know how they do shows like this back on her planet but it's not how we do it on Earth. 👽

Eleanor: On...her...planet? The Watcher is an alien?

Rose: Well duh. 😑 You couldn't tell? Why do you think she abducted us all at the casting call? She had to get us on more familiar turf.

Angel: That doesn't make any sense. The Watcher can't be an alien. She's an eternal extra-dimensional being of pure benevolence.

Viridia: WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR RELIGION, ALREADY?! CLEARLY SOMETHING ELSE IS GOING ON.

Eleanor: I knew it, we really are in the Lunar Lakes moon settlement. I could tell from the trees. But...why are we the only Sims here?

Rose: I don't know and I don't care. 🤨

Wow. You really exposed me to everyone, huh, Rose?

Rose: You exposed yourself! You should have just let me win from the jump and I wouldn't have had to tell everyone what I knew. 😖

I guess it really is a good thing I didn't tell you the whole plan, then, huh? Otherwise you'd have run your mouth to Aiden.

Rose: Yeah yeah, Argyle or whoever-the-fuck. Well, I held up my end of the bargain. You're going to call this whole thing off and just announce me the winner, riiiiight? 🤤

Why would I do that?

Rose: Because...I made things interesting for you, like we agreed on. 😕

Then why am I still bored?

Rose: I-- 😶

You haven't won anything, Rose. You're still the same loser you were when you walked into this place on the first day. And that's all you'll ever be.

Rose: ...

Nothing to say to that?

Rose: I am going to kick. your. ass. 😡

[Beginning] [Previous] [Next]

[rolandkaros]

I was reading what u commented on the break point cancellation post and I found so interesting what u were saying in regards to Drive to Survive, but u stopped because it was long (which never bothers me with tags btw) so I wanted to ask u, if u can, to expand on why u think Break Point failed, I think we might agree but I wanted to know where u stand 🥰

lmfaoo yeah i went over the tag limit 😭

what i was saying was essentially that break point is just not a good representation of the sport.

i mentioned this before but genuinely the match recaps that natasha does in the kasatkina zabiiako vlogs (now what the vlog but it's still kasatkina zabiiako in my mind) are better than the shit they did in break point. it seems like they were edited by someone who's never watched tennis before in their life, there's no sense of rhythm or momentum...which like, i understand it's hard to condense usually 2+ hours of tennis into just a few moments, but what they were rolling out was just not at all representative of what watching tennis is like. it's not even just that watching live is more enjoyable, it's that the break point recaps were actively unhelpful in the context of their episodes. it was more informative for me to listen to the players/coaches/commentators etc. talk about the match than watching those highlights bc of how bad they are.

on top of this, there isn't a lot of like...tennis specific conversation? i'll admit i didn't watch all of break point, maybe 5 or 6 episodes across the two seasons (i think only one of those was from season two bc. gross), so maybe i just missed all of it, but most of the time when they talked about the actual tennis, it was super basic stuff that even someone with very little technical knowledge (i.e. me) already knew. which like, if i'm watching a docuseries ABOUT TENNIS, i'd love to, you know, hear a bit...about tennis? there were some bits that they did include, mostly about tennis mentality (the curse episode) but the rest of anything they mentioned was very player specific, which is not really helpful if you're an inexperienced fan and want to know more about the sport as a whole.

(compare this to drive to survive, which can be dramatic and gimmicky, but actually helped me TONS to understand some of the basics of how the sport works, so i wasn't just thrown in for the first race not knowing what a soft tire vs a hard tire is.)

another thing i think i mentioned drive to survive has going for it (which i think i did mention in the tags) is that aside from all of the drama and seriousness, there's also a lot of fun silly bts bits they include, so even if you're not into the format, there is still a motivation for fans to tune in to see their favorite drivers messing around. break point had...some of that...but not enough imo to make it worth gritting through, and again, it's tough because there are just so many players to cover that the likelihood or your favorite player being included is just not that high.

basically, break point doesn't appeal to any audience. i'm not even sure what it's target audience is. experienced tennis fans (or even tennis fans such as myself who aren't experienced but have at least WATCHED live tennis) find it poorly produced and uninteresting. unexperienced tennis fans have little or nothing to gain from watching it. there just seems to be zero purpose for it to actually exist besides a sort of faux-behind-the-scenes docuseries for the sake of saying they have one about tennis.

but the thing that frustrates me is i think there could be an audience for it! like, i love docuseries formats, especially in sports! but break point just seemed to be so poorly thought out. and look, if you can't appeal to all audiences, that's fine! but chose a target audience and actually try to cater to them. and i think that's where netflix notoriously goes wrong time and time again, is they're just very out of touch with what their audiences want, and then proceed to whine that no one is interested and cancel everything when their shitty poorly thought out products do poorly (or even when good products do well). but like i said, i think if more care was put into the product, if they paid more attention, asked more questions, they could actually develop a show that more people would want to watch. but i think the way break point was set up, it was just never going to succeed like that.

TL;DR: drive to survive appeals to multiple audiences, with difference experience levels, with a little bit of something for everybody depending on a fan's watching preference. break point appeals to..........................?

and netflix doesn't seem to realize that sports fans generally want. uh. sports. to be shown accurately in a docuseries about. uh. sports.

[lunar-years]

what are your headcanons about tartt sr’s abuse? did it start when jamie was a teenager? was he always physically violent with jamie and maybe georgie too?

the s3 the finale is so disrespectful to georgie now that i think about it

Hi! This ones not super easy to answer because i think the show leaves the specifics largely up for interruption. My own thoughts on it are all over the map (and often change). I can basically see a lot of different avenues to getting to what we see play out in Man City, and I've seen a lot of differing thoughts on this topic; to be honest I find myself nodding along to most all of them even though all of them could definitely not coexist in the same universe, lol. So this is far from set in stone in my mind but here are my (once again quite long oops) general thoughts on how it might have gone (obviously TW for discussion of abuse below the cut):

the abuse canonically did start when Jamie was a teenager, because we know the Amsterdam trip happened when he was 14; whether the abuse also took the form of physical violence at that age I'm less certain, but I lean towards the bulk of that coming later. At this stage James was still in his "Stand Up Father" routine

I think the early relationship when James Tartt Sr. first came back into Jamie's life would've been a lot of false promises and the "Fun Dad" shtick Jamie describes when talking about Amsterdam. We also know James tried to get Georgie back at least once, and the way I interpreted the tone in which that was said was that the trip was neither the first nor the last time that happened. I kind of headcanon that James was in and out of rehab during that time, swearing to do better, making the same mistakes, rinse and repeat

Jamie's thoughts on James were a jumble of juxtapositions. James could always sweet-talk getting them an extra scoop of ice cream for free at the shop, he took Jamie to City matches and showed up all the time with cool or expensive gifts his mum could never afford - official kits and the like. He taught Jamie "life skills" like picking locks and petty crime tricks that, to a 12 year old were fucking cool! On the other hand he was also taking Jamie to pubs and making him try beer when he was like, 12 or 13. He made Jamie hang out with him and his friends - who were crude and brash and kind of scary. He arranged for Jamie to lose his virginity in Amsterdam because it was "past time for him to grow up and be a man."

All of those latter things made Jamie at best uncomfortable, but they were always balanced by the fun stuff. The good stuff. The problem was he never knew which version of his dad he was going to get on any given day, so he could never prepare for it.

I think the physical violence started off "small" - shaking his shoulder aggressively, keeping an ironclad grip on the back of Jamie's neck, etc. When he hit Jamie the first time he showed up the next day with a grand apology. He always used "getting too drunk" as his excuse and said "it won't happen again" and Jamie always believed him until the next time, because it really didn't happen that often, and anyway the bruises were never anything he couldn't keep hidden from Mummy and the teachers at school.

there were maybe one or two "Bad Times" when James "lost control" (in his own later words) and got Very Violent with Jamie whilst he was still a teenager. These are the times when Jamie learned how to hide substantial injuries and bruises from his team, his coaches, etc. and stared at his Roy Kent hoping by some miracle for the man to come out of it and save him.

I also think this is an instance where a young Jamie might have ~fought back~ and/or purposely said things to provoke his father, only to then have the resulting beat-down framed as a "punishment" by James, which scared him shitless (because canon Jamie does not seem afraid of most anything, but he is definitely terrified of his dad and that came from somewhere) and effectively prevented him fighting back in future. These occasions very much stand out as formative in his memory because the violence was so not constant at that time; the biggest thing to me is that James was incredibly inconsistent and that was part of his manipulation. Jamie started wondering if he was somehow at fault for the abuse, if it was his failure to be good that caused his dad to hurt him.

"say goodnight son..." when he goes to kill Beard with a lead pipe sure says a lot. I think that level of beating on Jamie and physically abusing him really began when Jamie was an adult playing for Man City. Both before he comes to Richmond and after he is sent back to Manchester in s1. He "restrained" himself during the season, to keep Jamie fit enough to play. But the off season has been a historically bad time for Jamie.

this is the timeframe where I think Jamie has a very tense relationship with his mother and isn't really talking to her about anything, let alone James. The distance between them started when he was teenager keeping secrets, worsened when she began things with Simon, and are by this point at an all time low, and he's fallen back on his father, spending more time with him than ever. He's essentially isolated himself from any support system and this is when things are really very Bad.

As for Georgie -

yes, i do imagine she also suffered from James abuse, though I don't think the abuse would have looked exactly the same for her as for Jamie

I think the bulk of it was emotional/verbal abuse. I can very much see James yammering on about he'd "never hit a woman." meanwhile he's spewing constant vitriol about her, calling her a bad mother, calling her slurs, and of course beating on their kid. But (in his warped brain) slapping Jamie around isn't the same as slapping Georgie around, because Jamie should be "able to take it" and "be a man." Just all kinds of ickiness exuding from that man.

"your father is never, ever going to change" is definitely the consensus (to me) of a woman who has been deeply manipulated by James in past and let down herself by his false promises. i would not be surprised if she HAD gotten back together with James once when Jamie was a teenager and he was on a longer sobriety stint from rehab.

I do think Georgie knew on some level that Jamie was being abused but I also really believe she did not realize the full extent. Jamie kept secrets from her (Amsterdam included). Georgie sensed there were secrets, but didn't poke into them, in part because of her own james-related trauma and in part for paralyzing fear of what she'd find if she looked deeper. It was easier to believe Jamie was still telling her only truths. So she comforted him the best ways she knew how, and she did her best to limit the time Jamie spent with James, but Jamie adamantly always wanted to see his dad, and she had to work so often and couldn't always be around to monitor him, and what was she to do, in the end?

Jamie does tell Georgie all of it after they repair their relationship circa/post s2/s3, and the resulting bond is stronger than ever.

[findingmypeace]

In iop today it just kind of hit me all at once just how many stressors I currently have in my life and not just today but for years. At any given time there is so much I'm juggling and if one thing falls my entire life shatters into a million pieces. I have to keep it together. I have to keeping going, and going, and going. Otherwise I will have nothing.

My body is falling apart.

My family hates me.

My sister is due August 14th. I'm dreading the day because I don't feel like I'm allowed to be a part of it. I'm not a "real" aunt. My sister has said she is angry at me for how I treated our Mom and Dad.

I cut off contact with my parents and only recently started talking to them again after my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It has been one the most painful things I've gone through. And with my parents selling our home of 30 years and moving out of state and Rosie and Sticker dying I feel like my family is gone. Or at least I'm not a part of it anymore.

My ex-therapist, K, ghosting me after 7 years of therapy. I don't even know what to say. That hurt so, so deeply and triggered every damn point we worked on together.

All of the drama and petty office politics at work that could possibly get me fired when I've done nothing wrong. The hypocrisy, the lies, the backstabbing, the manipulating situations so the other person gets the blame. It's a good thing I only see those people once a month.

Finances have been SO rough for the last 4 years. I recently started seeing a financial coach and we calculated my budget. With rent and all my bills I am left with a negative amount in the hundreds. That calculation does not include groceries, gas, and miscellaneous expenses. And this is how I am have been living for 4 years. I am so, so tired. I've worked very, very hard to maintain some semblance of financial stability but sometimes that means not getting groceries, nearly running out of gas, manipulating the timing of paying bills, purposely paying a bill late while I wait for my next paycheck.

All of that and I have a Master's degree, a license, a career, and a well paying job. I have too many bills.

(Please don't take this vent as me asking for a handout. I know my parents would see it that way so I just wanted to make that clear. This is just me venting)

Don't get me started on ed related stressors, including financially, medically, and emotionally.

I don't think I want to keep writing about this. Today was tough because of the sudden realization of the sheer magnitude of huge, almost traumatizing stressors that have gone on in my life over the last four years. It's so much that I can barely breath.

[applesandbannas747]

Sarah Rees Brennan's additions to the Fenceverse were peppered with classism, ableism, biphobia, and racism (what else can I call the erasure of Eugene's Filipino heritage?), but one aspect of it that's at once more subtle and more obvious is Coach Sally Williams's inappropriate behavior with her students, and I need to talk about it. Fence is marketed toward a young adult audience--kids who have teachers, maybe even teachers like Williams...and, hopefully, who know to report teachers like her to someone.

Let me make clear that my condemnation of Williams as a predator is only relating to the novels. In the comics, she's fantastic and badass and caring. In the novels, she takes it too far. There are several instances of her being what I'd call a shitty teacher throughout the novels, but there is a moment in Fence: Striking Distance where she sexually harasses three of her students. Can you think of when?

If you thought of the punishment she issued to Seiji, Nick, and Eugene for failing in a trust fall exercise, you would be correct! I want to be entirely clear here; there is no question of whether that was sexual harassment against her students. It was. Definitionally, it was. That's not up for debate. Let's get into why and fill in some context that makes the whole scene even more disturbing.

Williams issued a punishment to three of her students which involved them stripping. Asking students to undress is in itself sexual harassment (unless you're a chemistry teacher telling someone to get their ass in the 'i fucked up' shower but that's basically the only exception). It is inappropriate and unacceptable for a teacher to demand their student take off their shirt. Williams does. And then dresses them in raw steaks to send running around the woods. Their punishment isn't running. Their punishment is humiliation. And she's made it a sexual thing by disrobing them and dressing them so specifically and strangely. This isn't having them put on a little dunce cap and do jumping jacks kind of thing, this is a bizarre setup that, while not written as a fetish, can certainly be read that way. For whatever reason, Williams decided to have them wear raw steaks and the only real explanation is for her own pleasure--amusement, the characters and readers are supposed see. And the readers are meant to laugh along at this strange humiliation utilizing the partially naked bodies of minors.

Let's talk a little bit more about the raw steaks. The purpose of them seems to be humiliation, and if that's where Williams derives pleasure, perhaps my next points satisfy her goal intentionally. Either way, being made to strip and wear raw meat against their bare body is bound to be a massive trigger to people with sensory issues, body image issues, and eating disorders. The unique blending of unpleasant sensory, nakedness, and food would feel gross to anyone forced to abide by this punishment, but for people with pre-existing issues, it multiplies tenfold. And it is similarly disturbing in a new way to consider those who do not eat meat being forced to wear raw steaks around their necks. There are so many people for which this punishment would be even worse than you'd think at first glance, and it can absolutely be read as part of Williams's design. If you saw reports of Willimas in real life, wouldn't you assume this was intentional?

Another thing to note here is the needless escalation of the punishment to the crime. Eugene's meant to catch someone in a trust fall but turns to try and catch someone who's actually falling--Nick and Seiji being the reason and the faller in question. It is for this crime that they are punished. And, yeah, good time to talk about how your behavior can cause real harm to others (hell, it's a great metaphor for trying to learn in a rowdy classroom--reacting to the rowdiness/trying to calm it and sacrificing the thing you were doing to manage it), but an appropriate consequence would be an apology from each to Harvard. It was not a malicious or intentional attack and didn't warrant a punishment at all beyond natural consequence. Williams took this opportunity to enforce a major punishment that is entirely unrelated to the behavior nor is it beneficial to fencing the way running suicides is. Why change the terrain to the woods? And if you want to argue for the woods, I'll even give that to you. Why require bare chests and raw meat? Those conditions in no way add anything but humiliation. And, arguably, to Williams's pleasure.

I know it's 'not that deep' -- or rather, I know it wasn't meant to be. I know that this scene was not crafted with the intent to frame Williams in such an unsavory and upsetting light. I know that to assign intention behind the sexual harassment may seem presumptuous. But if this was happening in real life? Those intentions are almost guaranteed, even on a deep 'unknown' level to the teacher issuing such perverse and power-proving punishments. It doesn't matter if it wasn't written to be that deep, it has some seriously gross undertones.

Bottom line is that Williams used her power over children who were under her charge and protection to have them undress and endure the press of raw, bloody meat against them as they ran through the woods. That's not funny. That's sexual harassment.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Finished work today. Friday night, get to go home and not immediately start calculating how many hours I have to cook and eat and wash dishes and shower and then get some extra time by myself before I have to go to bed early enough to not be exhausted and miserable the next day. Excited to not have to do that. Get home, my roommate and best friend of 20 years suggests we go have dinner at the pub around the corner. A mutual friend I haven’t seen in months wants to join us later. I am trying to have a social life again and excited about seeing this friend so I go out.

Get to the pub. Eat food. First hour of dinner is spent with my roommate telling me about the meetings he’s been having with the top sports execs in the country this week, to make plans for the athlete from our team who’s trying to qualify for the Olympics. My roommate is flying to Turkey in May to coach her at a qualifier. I am genuinely, incredibly excited for him. And for her. For the team. They’re bringing in the top coaches and athletes from all over the country to work with our team.

We finish food and he runs out of stories and orders his third pint and I’m just drinking water, and he asks me what my updates are on my life, and I am suddenly hit with how incredibly depressing it feels that I have no updates. I have a trip to Britain in the summer that is the only thing on my calendar and I am so so looking forward to that but I don’t have anything between now and then. Don’t have anything from this week. Every day I got home from work planning to go for a run and then was too tired from the long hours so I didn’t. He asked me if I’ve seen any comedy nights lately (which he is not remotely interested in – earlier in my comedy obsession I spent more time telling him about the comedy stuff, but I’ve stopped doing that as it is very much not a shared interest, I pretty much made this Tumblr blog to put my comedy thoughts somewhere besides telling him about it), and I replied that a couple of people I like were performing at a nearby pub yesterday and I planned to go see them, but I left for work at 7:30 AM and got home at 7:30 PM and would have had to leave again immediately to get there and was too tired so I didn’t. And I’ve picked a career field where the based case scenario after moving up is more money than I make now but still not enough money to live comfortably, and not a point where it gets easier.

And the difference is that for all these years I always had big goals and big things to look forward to because I was invested in the sport, and I am trying again, I’m planning to go to practice this Sunday for the first time in months. I decided to take this season off to re-evaluate if it’s what I want to do, and what I learned is that when I don’t have it I have no purpose in life so it’s probably worth all the bad things, so now that the season has just ended I’m planning to try again. But I’m still going to be tired all the time. Even if I got back into coaching full time like I used to, I’m never going to have a job that would give me enough flexibility to take off to Turkey. My friend and I spent so many years on the same level coaching together, and now even if I went back I’d be way behind and never catch up.

I was sitting in the pub and apologizing for not having any updates or things to talk about, really, and watching the little bubbles in his beer and thinking of how very very good they looked, and then I mentioned that of course this is all coloured because I’m trying not to drink and that’s making me miserable, so that makes everything seem bleaker than it really is, probably. And he said yes, avoiding drinking does sound miserable, and it doesn’t make you an alcoholic to have a few beers after work on a Friday, so why don’t I just order one. And I said I’m trying not to drink. And he said I don’t have to drink but it would probably make me less miserable and we could get whiskey. And I really really wanted to. And it wouldn’t make me an alcoholic to have a couple of beers on this Friday night.

But then I thought about how next weekend is Easter so I have the Friday and Monday off, and that’ll make it really hard not to drink three nights in a row, and if I don’t have a hard and fast rule against drinking at all that I stick to now, then next weekend I will end up drinking Thursday and Friday and Saturday night.

I have ended up drinking on a few weekends in the last month. The ones when my roommate was out of town coaching tournaments. I end up feeling like it’s a waste of an opportunity if I have the house to myself and don’t drink. Because I’ve spent so many nights getting drunk alone in my room, which I enjoy so much and makes me very happy, but if I know someone else is home, I can never 100% relax and enjoy it to the fullest extent, because I’m self-conscious about making noise. But if I have the place to myself all night, I can play music or videos out loud, not worry about it, I think that’s the only time I ever truly relax. So if I have that opportunity on a night when I don’t have to work the next day, it feels like a waste if I don’t use it.

The main season’s just ended, so my roommate will be home most weekends for a while, which is probably for the best. He and I have also been drinking buddies for many years, so it’s not like him being around will stop me from drinking. But I don’t need to drink around him. He and I have drunk a lot of alcohol over a lot of nights together over the years, but I’ve never felt concerned by that thing people say, that if you need to drink around someone to enjoy their company then they’re not a good friend. He and I have also spent a lot of time together sober and we greatly enjoy that. I mean, tonight was a bad example, we went out and he was drunk and I was sober and I had a shit time. But I was going to have a shit time no matter what. The point is that usually, we have a good time together with or without alcohol. So even though he’s a guy with whom I normally drink, him being home more won’t cause me to drink more because I don’t need alcohol to enjoy his company. I’m much more likely to drink when left alone, because apparently I do need alcohol to enjoy my company.

I didn’t order any alcohol. But I did start to get so depressed about not having any life updates, and so overwhelmed by how loud the pub was, and found it so difficult to be surrounded by alcohol and not allowed to drink, that I nearly started crying at the table, and then got up and walked home before our mutual friend arrived. My roommate stayed there, he and our mutual friend are presumably there now, drinking beer and having fun like normal people. I got home, felt vaguely numb and out of it, sat down, wrote this post. Because I still feel like shit and would like to share something. I don’t do this often, but if anyone’s got a nice picture of a cat or something for cheering up miserable people, and you wanted to share that with me at the moment, I’d appreciate that.

The margin between drinking and not drinking tonight was razor thin, I came very close, and to be 100% honest, I think it would have gone the other way if I hadn’t happened to listen to a particular radio episode on the bus home from work today. John Robins has been reading out his terrible terrible diaries from when he first started stand-up, and they’re really interesting from a comedy nerd perspective, but also, they’re from 2005, when he’d recently quit drinking. The diary entries chronicle him trying to quit cigarettes, failing, realizing that going a day without smoking makes him desperately crave a drink and drink is the lesser of two evils so he started smoking again because he wanted to protect his sobriety from alcohol. Sobriety that we know lasts another year or so until he starts drinking again, but does end up successfully weaning off cigarettes and into vaping, so that’s less bad. And eventually quits drinking again too, but not for many years.

I started at the pint on the table and thought about John Robins in 2005 talking about how miserable it was to try to stay away from an addiction, these really stark and familiar descriptions of just feeling terrible all the time and thinking you can’t do that, but even in that he knew that drinking was the greater evil and it’s worth the misery to protect yourself from it, and those diaries show that that guy was a fucking idiot (seriously, they’re horrifying) but even he knew that much, and managed to stay away from it successfully (for about a year but eventually did it again), and that pretty much tipped the balance in the razor thin margin of whether to order a beer and stay out with my friend and meet my other friend and probably end up having fun tonight, or get up and walk home and sit in the house by myself feeling terrible. I picked the latter, and am currently having trouble remembering why that was in fact the better idea. But it helped that I could remember other people have found this as difficult as I do and still managed to make the smarter choice.

I should really go for a run again. That’s one of the few things that gives me a feeling like drinking does, if I push really really hard and run until I’m absolutely burned out, and for a little while can’t feel anything and feel like I’ve pushed my brain out of its usual position and everything’s okay until that wears off. It’s temporary after a run, it only feels like that until I recover, which is about ten minutes after I stop running. As opposed to drinking, where the feeling lasts for as many hours as I decide to keep drinking. But still, it’s something, I need to do more of that.

I wrote so many of these over-sharing personal posts earlier in the year when I first tried to stay away from alcohol, then I started hating myself for posting so much personal stuff so I tried to stop, but it’s a bad night so I’m doing it again. I'm not sure what I'm doing with my life but I'm hoping I'll at least hate myself less tomorrow morning than I would have hated myself if I'd stayed out and ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey and just had a good time like I used to.

[theawkwardterrier]

Have Yourself a Scheming Little Christmas

The big reveal of my fic for @steggyfanevents's Steggy Secret Santa, especially for @lavellenchanted! December has been a big and busy month so I fell down on my Santa-ing a bit along the way, Sarah, but I hope that you enjoy some family and fluff here and have a wonderful holiday, a delightful end of 2023, and a great beginning to 2024!

Summary: Natasha's dad seems like he might need someone in his life. So does Sharon's Aunt Peggy. Luckily, they have two smart and savvy matchmakers to help them along the way.

AO3 link here.

Natasha wouldn't say that her father is sad, exactly. He doesn't spend all his time crying like the preschool kids do when their parents leave at drop off or someone pushes them down on the playground, after all, and he smiles when he watches her in her ballet shows and cheers for her when it's her turn at bat during baseball season (he might be the coach and cheer for everyone, but Nat thinks that he sounds just a tiny bit louder when she's up). Their apartment is clean and warm, and Dad makes her laugh with stories from his work and is always getting better at cooking, even if they do end up ordering takeout at least once a week.

Still, sometimes when she turns back to him before he notices that she’s watching or she's up to go to the bathroom in the night and sees him awake, he’s gazing into his mug or at the TV screen with this certain look. It reminds her of back when she was in foster care, that feeling of sitting in her room listening to the family laughing and talking while she was behind the wall. It makes her think, too, of Uncle Bucky: that staring, empty sort of face he sometimes gets, ever since she can remember, the one that Dad says is because of the war. Dad was in the war too, but a long time ago, and Nat doesn't think that he is sad because of that.

Dad might not talk about why he's sad, but there are hints, like how he tucked his hands into his pockets at Parent Night in October every time he talked to a pair of parents together and it was just him standing alone. Or like how they were in the park one day, and she was petting a puppy, and as she stood up, Dad's face was full of that look, just from watching the way that the puppy's owners were standing super close, holding each other's waists. And just like there are hints about what might be making him sad, there are hints about what might make him happy. She and Dad almost always get to school at the same time in the mornings, and the same kids are almost always getting dropped off then too, and Dad almost always starts glancing across the path in the same way at the same person, and the look on his face makes Nat think that if she saw it on a worksheet, she would mark it as the opposite of that nighttime look.

Nat might not know exactly what it is that is making him sad, but she decides that she is going to fix it. She is going to make him happy.

And to do that, she is going to need a partner, so she can get him his.

When she came to live in Brooklyn last year, Aunt Peggy told Sharon that she didn't know exactly what she was doing or why Daddy had decided that she was the right person to come take care of Sharon after he died, but that they would do their best and would always be honest with one another and would figure things out together so they would both be happy.

That has, Sharon feels, worked for the most part, but it is hard to be honest with someone else about your happiness when you aren't being honest with yourself. This is what she reminds herself when Aunt Peggy responds to Sharon's probing with a laugh and a quick, "I'm perfectly satisfied with you, my work, and everything in my life, thank you." She might not be lying to Sharon on purpose, but that doesn't mean it isn't a lie anyway.

So she is quite prepared to accept when Nat Rogers from the other class comes up to her in the line for the swings during recess on the first Tuesday in December and asks, "Are you available to come over after school sometime this week? I think that your aunt and my dad have something in common."

Aunt Peggy doesn't need to beg for attention, and Sharon won't either. Watching Betty's pumping legs on the swing, she says casually back, "Is it that they both want to be dating but they won't do anything about it?"

She likes Nat more for neither squealing nor stomping off in a huff at having her surprise spoiled, but instead saying calmly, "I assume that if you’re already aware, that means we can arrange something?"

Even though it's probably a good sign that she and Nat, both pretty smart people, had the same idea; and even though Sharon saw the way that Aunt Peggy smiled as she and Natasha's dad talked on the phone to arrange their "playdate" but also noticed the way she carefully kept her smile out of her voice; and even though Sharon finds herself approving of Mr. Rogers, who tells her to call him Steve and clearly drew the picture of him and Natasha that's framed on the bedside table in her room...even with all that, it isn't until she suggests that they get Nat's tablet to write out their plan and Nat tells her that the rule is that she isn't allowed to have much tablet time, especially when friends are over and they aren't doing schoolwork because "my dad thinks it limits my imagination," which is almost exactly the same thing that Aunt Peggy always says, that Sharon actually believes this might work.

It is not a hard sell at all to get Dad to take her to the ice rink at Prospect Park. Their weekends are usually filled with outings, even if it's just errands, but Dad's been especially busy getting orders ready over the past few weeks, plus they went over to Uncle Bucky’s last weekend.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spent much time just the two of us lately, kiddo,” Dad says as they tie on their skates, and Nat laces hers tight and doesn’t feel at all guilty that as long as Sharon held up her end of the deal, it won’t be just the two of them for long.

She does a few jumps and glides around the ice, choreographing to her ballet music in her head, and right at the dramatic flourish, Sharon enters the rink, with her aunt behind her.

Natasha has taken the time to study Peggy Carter before, calculating the meaning of her purposeful stride and perfectly done lipstick during the mornings and afternoons at school or at Parent Night. Still, she notes approvingly today that she is wearing a nice black peacoat and a scarf that is the same color as Dad’s eyes that is looped easily around her neck and corresponds perfectly with her hair and skin, and that she looks graceful and competent on the ice. Taking a deep breath, Nat puts the first step of the plan into action.

“Hi, Sharon!” She skates toward her quickly, knowing that Dad will follow without thinking or noticing who she is skating toward, just to keep an eye on her.

"Slow down, Nat," she hears from behind her, and then an oof!

Dad would never say no to her if she wanted to go to the rink, but he isn't exactly as skilled as she is. Uncle Bucky has always said that Dad has "two left feet and probably a couple of left hands too," especially when he's nervous...and seeing Ms. Carter is definitely the type of thing that would make him nervous.

She and Sharon reach out and grab each other's hands, catching eyes as they listen to the conversation behind them.

"Are you alright there, Mr. Rogers?"

"Ms. Carter...!" Dad gives a sort of wince-laugh. "Could have done without face-planting in front of everyone in Brooklyn, but I'll get over it."

"She's almost laughing," Sharon whispers in shock, glancing at the pair of them over Nat's shoulder, and Nat feels a little zing of triumph – all this time, Sharon was going along with the plan without the belief in it that she has – but of course she does not let that show on her face.

"I believe you did the opposite of a face-plant, if you don't mind my saying so," says Ms. Carter, and now Natasha can hear the laughter in her voice, although it is very proper laughter if she says so herself. That's okay; it sounds like it would match pretty well with Dad's crinkle-eyed smiles. "May I help you up?"

"I'd say that I'd only take that offer if you were really firm on your feet, but I can see that you are and I don't think you'd just ask to be polite."

"Right on two counts. Now give me your hand."

Nat and Sharon skate back over to quickly say that they're going to go around the rink together.

"Safely," Dad warns. "We'll be watching, and I think that Ms. Carter, at least, could get over to bust you in a half a minute if I wasn't holding her back."

"Probably less," Ms. Carter says, but as Nat and Sharon skate away, Nat notices that she has still not let go of his hand – and it doesn’t seem like it’s much about keeping him upright at this point.

She does finally let him go later, as they all agree to walk over for cocoa together (something that would probably have taken a lot longer if Nat wasn't there to push Dad past all of his stumbling, "If you aren't busy, and I don't know whether you or Sharon have any dietary restrictions, and we're happy to let you pick the spot if you have somewhere you like" and might not have happened at all if Ms. Carter had done less standing there with slightly amused patience and more making excuses to leave in the fact of what Nat considers his awkwardness) but she also, it seems, is walking very close to him, much closer than two new friends on a sidewalk would need to be, even if they are making sure to catch every word from each other among the crowds.

When they get to her and Dad’s favorite diner, Mr. Phillips seems to know Ms. Carter — “I’d ask why you were hanging around with this reprobate, Carter, but you’ve got quite the degenerate streak yourself,” he says as he gets their menus and drops crayons and his latest hand-written set of mazes and puzzles on the table for Sharon and Nat, although he pretends he isn’t doing it, just like he pretends that he didn’t add extra whipped cream or mint sprinkles to their mugs of cocoa when they come. Natasha likes that, when she asks what a reprobate is, Ms. Carter doesn’t tell her she’s too young for it to matter; instead she defines the word and writes it down in big clear letters on Nat’s paper. Dad seems to like that too, smiling down into his mug, even if it means that he ends up with a bit of whipped cream all over his top lip and Ms. Carter leans over the table to gently wipe it off with her thumb.

They end up staying past just cocoa, Dad and Ms. Carter sitting in the inside seats of the red vinyl booth across from each other and talking for so long that Angie comes over with her pad and offers to get something started for dinner. Nat and Sharon glance at each other, seeming to agree that no matter what had been said about the seating arrangements being so “the girls” could have easy access to slide out to examine the dessert case or to help Mr. Phillips with combining the ketchup bottles, it was really so they would be able to laugh about Dad’s design clients and the other lawyers Ms. Carter works with or to watch each other gesturing as they talk about important but boring things like the school board and “the political situation.”

She and Sharon also seem to agree, Nat thinks as she twirls some pasta on her fork and Sharon bites into her tuna melt, that the first step of the plan has gone just how they wanted.

"Oh good," Aunt Peggy says, holding up a book called Recipes for Feeding Demons. "I think that this will be a helpful guide for Dottie Underwood." She glances at the cover again thoughtfully, then adds with some sourness, "Although I suppose that it might encourage her to believe that I'm interested in her well-being."

Sharon reaches over to take it and add it to the pile they've already made of intended books for friends, coworkers, and their small amount of remaining family. "At school they say that if you don’t have anything nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all,” she comments.

“I suppose they’re right,” Aunt Peggy says, paging through a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul at Work that Sharon thinks might end up wrapped on Jack Thompson’s desk tomorrow; Sharon is familiar with him because there are always amusing stories about the other lawyers at Aunt Peggy’s firm, although fewer and fewer these days and more frowns and looking at documents on her laptop with pursed lips. “As much as I support being direct and honest and not holding back your opinion in most circumstances, keeping quiet can be a very effective way of making certain that the other person doesn’t sense your true feelings and allowing you to maintain the upper hand.”

“I guess if I was trying to find some Sun Tzu, you would be the right person to ask, huh?”

Sharon looks over, face showing careful surprise to see an amused Steve standing behind Aunt Peggy’s shoulder in the aisle of their favorite local bookshop, just one of dozens of fellow holiday shoppers crammed into the space. Nat joins him a minute later, holding a couple of graphic novels in one arm. Sharon approves of that casualness. They’d known it would be a little risky for her to try to get her dad to work a present-buying excursion into their plans for the day – he might have gotten wind that something was afoot if Nat too steadfastly refused to take no for an answer, but since they're regulars, it would have been even more suspicious for her to hover around once they'd arrived and give any appearance of trying to guide him anywhere in particular in the store or of this being in any way more than an average visit.

"Steve," says Aunt Peggy, turning in surprise and even seeming to flush just a little across her cheekbones. It's actually nice to see, Sharon thinks, pretending to straighten their book pile while giving Natasha a subtle thumbs up. Over the past few weeks, as her aunt and Steve have found more and more reasons to have them all spend time together in the afternoons and evenings and over the weekends, they’ve gotten more and more comfortable with each other, but knowing that Aunt Peggy still has that flash of excitement when seeing him tells Sharon that she’s made the right choice. The couple of times that her aunt has had dates since coming to Brooklyn, Aunt Peggy has been really careful to be her most shiny and controlled self. There’s a lot about that self to admire, sure, but it’s a lot nicer to see the real Aunt Peggy allowing herself to peek through, that little bit of vulnerability but also ease. She doesn’t do some sort of quick maneuver to spruce up the old jeans and sweater that she’s wearing, or try to cover up her pleased little double take. It’s equally nice to see Steve blushing a little in return, pinkening his smiling cheeks.

“It’s good to see you two,” he says quickly, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad that Nat had the idea to come here to pick up a few last minute gifts.”

"Funny, Sharon had the same thought," says Aunt Peggy, casting a glance at her, and Sharon smiles before digging into her pocket for one of the candy canes they'd had in a bowl at the counter. She tries to unwrap the plastic as if her heart hasn't suddenly picked up rhythm at the thought that sharp-minded Aunt Peggy might be realizing that it isn't all coincidence. But, as Sharon sticks the sweet into her mouth, her aunt turns back to Steve and adds, "I suppose our girls' great minds think alike."

"I'd say that we could get some credit for that, or at least for sending them to a good school, but I think it's all them."

Aunt Peggy puts her hand on his arm, an unexpectedly tender look on her face, and Sharon freezes a little; there's something about the moment that makes her wonder if there's about to be some comment made about how Steve has already done far more for his daughter than he gives himself credit for. Natasha had mentioned – just quickly, so that Sharon would barely even remember it except for the careful way that she had relaxed her jaw, which probably would have misled most other people but just made Sharon more alert – how much she dislikes people talking about her adoption like her dad is just doing charity work, like Nat's presence in his life is some huge burden or something he should get endless gold stars for enduring.

"We're certainly lucky to have them, just as they are," Aunt Peggy says instead, as the whittled pinprick end of the candy cane accidentally stabs at Sharon's tongue and she holds back a yelp to listen. "But I've seen bits of you in Natasha as well."

The two of them are making long eye contact. Steve's hand comes up to cover Aunt Peggy's where it rests against his forearm. Sharon very purposefully does not grin around her candy.

"Luckily the hair isn’t one of them," says Nat. Sharon wants to glare at her but channels it by chomping down and filling her mouth with peppermint shards, because the bubble of quiet that they had existed in so briefly disappears, the noise and chaos of a Saturday afternoon nearing Christmas rushing back over them with Nat’s flippant tone. "I don't know that he could pull it off."

Aunt Peggy replies, "Oh, I’m not certain I agree. I think he has at least a chance of managing with that color, even if it wouldn't be as lovely as it is on you," but her voice sounds normal now, teasing but confident rather than close and confiding the way it was a minute ago. She turns to Steve and asks, "What else will you two be up to today?"

Steve's smile somehow seems to have shifted from the gentle, private light it showed a minute ago. It just looks like a regular grown-up small talk smile now, the same way that Aunt Peggy's question sounded. But he says easily, "We're going to drop the books at home along the way to the holiday party that my best friend's family is throwing. They like to have it far enough in advance that no one's started traveling yet, no one's in a complete last-minute panic over gift-buying, and it might even actually overlap with some of the holidays that aren’t Christmas – practically half of the people in their neighborhood show up, so they want to give as many people as possible a chance to come.” With a tiny extra pause, a little blink and a deep breath, he adds, “I’d—I’m sure they’d love to meet you if you have the time to join us."

Aunt Peggy laughs, half-thoughtful. “Your friend wouldn’t happen to be a member of the Barnes family, would he?”

“You know Uncle Bucky?”

It is not until she hears Natasha's question, the truly surprised and curious blurt of it, that Sharon recognizes that her earlier comment had not been simply making conversation or trying in some misguided way to move things along to the next phase; it had been Nat, after all, who had suggested that the party would be a good next step, a way to push things from accidental run-ins and purposeful but casual dinners together. Between the bright embrace of Nat’s extended family and the assured presence of mistletoe that Steve and Aunt Peggy might just so happen to find themselves beneath, it would be the right setting to move things from falling to fell. But between their consultation during lunch three days ago and now, something seems to have happened.

It seems that she is not the only one to have realized the difference in Nat’s tone – Steve glances down at his daughter with his brow creased – and there is a slight slowness to Aunt Peggy's words as she says, "I only know Bucky himself by reputation, I’m afraid. His mother was my realtor when I was looking for somewhere that would be a mutually positive living situation for Sharon and myself when I relocated to Brooklyn, and she was kind enough to show me around the neighborhood afterward and tell me about life here."

She shifts so she is facing Sharon. "What would you think about coming along with Steve and Natasha for the party? I think it would be nice to see Winnifred again, but it's up to you. I know that you might have had other plans for how you wanted to spend the afternoon."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," says Natasha, like she honestly couldn’t care one way or the other and isn’t pretending to be casual anymore, but Sharon ignores her.

As much as she misses Daddy and despite the little burn of guilt at the thought that her current life is only possible because he died, this is one of the things that Sharon likes about living with Aunt Peggy. She has no problem putting her foot down or making rules when needed, but she also treats Sharon like her own person, someone whose opinions and desires and feelings should count equally to those of any grownup.

It's moments like this that remind her all over again about why she is working to make sure Aunt Peggy gets the things that she wants too.

"Do you think we should bring a gift to the party?" she asks, and Aunt Peggy and Steve smile in unison.

"What were you doing back there?" Sharon hisses to Nat as they walk ahead; the conversation behind them has moved from a lively and distracting description of some updates to a project that one of Steve's clients had tried to demand at the last minute over to a more serious discussion of something happening at Aunt Peggy’s work – something about “irregularities” and “starting to suspect malfeasance,” which sounds like just the sort of adult thing to keep them distracted so there isn't much danger of Nat and Sharon’s planning being overheard. "For a minute I thought they might even kiss right in the aisle, and then you blew it."

"I didn't blow it," Nat says, facing ahead. "I changed my mind."

Sharon almost stops walking. "Changed your—What are you talking about? Why?"

"My dad...My dad really likes your aunt. And I know you say that your aunt likes him back, but I don't think it's the same thing. I saw how he was looking at her back there. I think that he really likes her, and if that first plan had worked out and they had gotten together, his feelings could have ended up getting really hurt."

The sound of the words first plan and Nat’s use of the past tense echoes alongside their footsteps on the cold sidewalk. "My aunt wouldn't hurt his feelings," Sharon says, quiet but staunch, crossing her arms over her chest, although it's difficult in her puffy coat. "And you should have thought of all that in the first place. You're the one who started all of this!"

"And now I'm cancelling it. So don't think of trying to do something at the party. I've got cousins' eyes everywhere."

The coldness and finality in her tone does not scare Sharon, but it does mean that she needs a chance to regroup and gather any allies and resources as she makes a plan B. She's pretty sure that the party would have been a lot of fun and the perfect next milestone for Aunt Peggy and Steve to start moving toward dating if not the moment that got them there, but instead she hangs at the edges of the crowd, avoiding Aunt Peggy's eyes and brushing off Steve's questions and trying to pretend that everything is okay so that they don't delve any deeper, so that they have fun with Bucky and Winnifred and the rest of the Barnes family who seem to like Aunt Peggy a lot, so that she might salvage at least a little bit of the future that she and—that she has been working toward, even if she has to do it alone.

Natasha wouldn't say that her father is sad, exactly.

So maybe he doesn't smile in that certain, slanted kind of way that he did when looking at Ms. Carter. And maybe he goes to bed early instead of chatting on the phone with her about planning things for them to do together, and then about all sorts of other stuff until really late so that he’s yawning as he comes to wake her up for school the next morning. And maybe he just quietly boxes up the leftovers at dinner because it was just the two of them instead of four and Ms. Carter wasn’t there to tease him or stand next to him at the counter as they both tried to chop things.

Okay, so maybe he is a little sad.

She asks him directly as she sets the table a few days after the party why he hadn’t just invited the Carters over if he wanted to see them. And he had looked at her with that Dad look of his and said, his tone even more gentle in comparison to her tight one that she couldn’t quiet help, “It seemed like you and Sharon might have had a fight, so I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You aren’t going to make me apologize?” She makes herself look at him as she says it, even though she wants to look down at the forks in her hand.

He looks back, with only the littlest raise of his eyebrow at the demanding tone. “I trust that if you’re having a problem with a friend, there’s a reason for it, and that you’ll make the right choice to apologize if you need to, to forgive her, or to decide that your friendship is over.” He steps over and places a kiss on her head. “That’s the kind of thing that we do for the people we love, Nat,” he says softly against her hair. “We trust them.”

As she lies in bed that night, Nat, pinching the twisty worm of guilt tunneling through her insides, thinks about choices, and about trust. Yes, Dad might get hurt from being with Ms. Carter, but maybe he won’t. Maybe she should trust that Ms. Carter will be careful with him, or that even if something does happen, Dad will be glad to have been with her anyway for as long as it might last.

One of the things that Dad taught her, first as his foster kid and now as his kid, is that we can look for people to be good instead of assuming that they won’t be. She decides to try that now, decides that she will talk to Sharon in the morning.

Even if her father isn’t sad, that doesn’t mean he can’t be happier. If not seeing Ms. Carter is already hurting him, maybe Natasha was right in the first place about what he needs and what she needs to do to get it for him.

Sharon had been a little bit surprised that Steve and Natasha don’t have huge Christmas Eve plans; there seemed to be infinite relatives at the party, all hugging them and laughing, part of the sort of enormous family that she has only seen on TV or in movies, where they would all gather and watch some holiday classic and fall asleep in a big pile so they could wake up to open presents all together the next morning.

She is, however, far more surprised when Natasha comes over to her at school two days before Christmas and says that she was wrong to try to stop their plan and that she is ready to finish things.

“And how do I know you won’t back out again?” Sharon looks out across the playground, only flicking her eyes back in tiny darts to catch glimpses of Nat.

“You just believe, I guess, the same way that you do with anything about other people,” Nat says simply. “But also…If your aunt has been anything like my dad over the past few days, you’ll be willing to take the risk.”

Sharon looks at her fully now, red hair glinting metallic under the afternoon sun covering the playground despite the cold, face not overly apologetic but certainly determined. She thinks of Aunt Peggy, the way that over the last few days she had more than once picked up her phone to check for messages or to start sending one herself before placing it forcefully back down again, how dinner was somewhat lackluster because although they were back to eating good takeout, Aunt Peggy carefully cut and ate each bite as if programmed and as if she wasn’t enjoying it half as much as she would choking down whatever Steve had made recently, the way she would go back into her home office to work afterward because Steve wasn’t there to prod her into playing a board game together or talk about whatever was happening at work that was adding to her mood.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms and Nat does the same, the two of them scanning over the other kids on the playground. “What did you have in mind?”

The sleepover, they decide, will be at Natasha’s house. Sharon offers all sorts of logical reasons for this — Dad and Nat have a TV for showing movies while the Carters mostly watch things on their laptops and tablets, and the couch is smaller which will make it easier to box Dad and Ms. Carter into squishing together during the evening — and Nat doesn’t say that she suspects that, more than anything, it is because their place is simply cozier. She knows what it feels like to have those sorts of tender things which you don’t want to speak about, and exactly how much it means to come into the apartment and see the fridge with her papers and projects magneted firmly to the front and the walls covered in the paint that they picked out together after Nat’s adoption was finalized and the coffee table chest filled with Dad’s handmade afghans that anyone can curl under.

They had assumed that their careful planning would ensure that Ms. Carter wouldn’t just drop Sharon off and leave, but instead it is Dad. Even in the face of her laughing remarks that allowing herself a quiet bubble bath and a new coat of nail polish on Christmas Eve will be a treat, he says a soft and simple, “Peggy. You should stay with us,” and she actually does.

There are times during the evening that Natasha forgets that this is all part of the plan. Between decorating cookies, trying to play some games together (Pictionary in particular is a hilarious disaster, because Dad is very good and that makes Ms. Carter turn grumpy in the most steely and genteel way) and watching the argument between Dad and Ms. Carter about the best Christmas movies and which classic songs should simply be tossed out, it’s all just so much fun.

Originally they had planned to keep things going until it was late enough that Dad would be simply forced by politeness to ask her to stay, but the weather lends them a hand, the snow coming down in heavy flakes and with heavier gusts as the night wears on. Sharon’s hand clenches slightly in silent victory on the rug in front of them when it is Ms. Carter who comments, stretching as the credits of It’s a Wonderful Life roll on the screen, that she wishes she’d remembered her gloves for the walk home. Dad practically trips over himself inviting her to spend the night.

Instead of having that sleepover sort of excitement, the important sense of showing someone else your space and everything about your routine just being a little more when seen through the eyes of a friend, Natasha finds that getting ready for bed mostly just feels…comfortable. She and Sharon brush their teeth while listening to the sounds of the dinner dishes being cleared up, the voices of the grown-ups rising and falling peaceably around the rush of water and clink of silverware and shutting of cupboards as the dried dishes are put away.

Even though she knows that Sharon isn’t the sort to need to call home to say goodnight or to fuss about glasses of water and nightlights to avoid having to go to sleep in a strange place, there is something particularly cozy about two familiar faces framed in the doorway checking to make certain that they are sleepily settled in Natasha’s room. And although it could easily feel uncomfortable to have the usual night sounds of the apartment outside suddenly different, enhanced by an unfamiliar presence alongside her father, Nat finds herself relaxing into the humming murmur of conversation from beyond the door, so much so that it is only seeking out the triumphant glint of Sharon’s eyes in the almost-dark which keeps her awake enough to sneak out as the clock ticks over near midnight.

“That’s a tough thing,” Dad is saying as the two girls creep over to hide behind the sofa. The living room is lit only by the table lamps and the little bulbs wrapped around the Christmas tree where they are carefully setting gifts; even if they are too old for Santa tales, there’s something nice about traditions. “That’s a tough thing, Peg. You’ve already had a big year, losing your brother, moving across the ocean, taking responsibility for Sharon. Leaving your job over this would be hard — the financial issues, not to mention that bit of stability.”

“You say that as if you wouldn’t feel disappointed to find that I’d stayed at the firm after what I’ve found out,” she says, in return, smoothing some errant corner of wrapping paper with a firm hand. Despite her cut-glass diction and attempted humor, there is a bit of a question mark beneath that even the girls can hear wavering in the air.

But Dad shakes his head immediately. “I say that as someone who knows that whatever you decide, it will be the right choice for you both.”

“Ridiculous man,” she says, and Nat knows as she meets Sharon’s wide eyes that she has noticed the shake of tears in her aunt’s voice and that she hadn’t expected it either.

“Sure. Although not for this.”

When Dad touches her cheek gently, Nat has the immediate feeling that she should look away. But she reaches out a hand and grips Sharon’s instead, the two of them holding what suddenly feels like their shared breath. “I’ve seen the kind of person you are, Peggy. I’ve seen how smart you are — sharp as hell, six steps ahead and around the corner from everyone else — and how strong and certain and self-reliant. I’ve seen the way that you care for Sharon. There’s no one whose judgment I would trust more.”

“Well.” Somehow Ms. Carter makes even shifting herself forward on the floor surrounded by pine needles and presents look elegant, even with that remaining vulnerability there too. “Coming from a deeply kind and upstanding and moral man, and the best father I know, that means quite a lot.” And then she leans that last bit and presses her mouth to his.

Nat is certain that the small, excited squeak did not come from her, but based on Sharon’s matching warning look, she is equally disavowing being the source. Through some silent, mutual agreement, they decide to chalk it up to a mysterious but necessary atmospheric venting of joy at this moment and turn their attention back.

“What about the girls?” Dad asks as he and Ms. Carter part. “I don’t think that I can just kiss you, or just do it once, and they’ve both had it hard. If we started something…” but Nat notices that he does not move away and that he has her fingers still held in his, their hands twined and tucked snug between their chests.

Ms. Carter smiles, bright-edged and knowing by the blurry holiday lights. “Somehow I have the feeling that they won’t precisely mind,” she says, and when he leans forward to kiss her again despite his quizzical expression, Nat and Sharon take the opportunity to crawl away, exchanging a triumphant nod.

When they get back to Nat’s bedroom, hearing the low laughter still coming from the living room, they cannot help but high five as well for a job well done, a successful plan, the future that they made for all of them together.

(And if perhaps Ms. Carter clued in somewhere along the way, well, they couldn’t really expect to make it through without that happening, could they?)

Sharon should be sleeping. December has been so packed: between all their usual traditions – skating, sledding, peppermint cocoa at the diner, buying gifts at the bookstore, the annual Barnes family party, decorating the tree and the apartment – and their move this year into the new place (which Winnifred Barnes had called “a steal,” Aunt Peggy had called “quite reasonable,” and Steve had referred to as “a travesty that would be solved by rent control”), by Christmas Eve she’s honestly exhausted. But something woke her and she can’t quite get back to sleep, so she finally gets up to go get a drink from the kitchen.

She passes Nat’s room on the way down the hall, smiling at the small picture of the four of them together which her sister had stuck up on the door. As she nears the living room, there’s a small sound that makes her freeze. For a moment she wonders if one of their gifts this year actually is the cat they’ve been asking for, but as she slowly turns her head, she finds that Aunt Peggy and Steve – probably tired out too from all the activity, Aunt Peggy’s work with the new firm, and the slow way they were turning in a circle together before the girls went to bed – are asleep and breathing deeply on the sofa together; it’s the bigger one from their old apartment but they’re still cuddled together, Aunt Peggy’s head on Steve’s shoulder and his tipping over hers as the bulbs from the Christmas tree illuminate them, tiny and glowing.

“Better get back to bed,” Nat says softly from behind her, and somehow she isn’t surprised to hear her there. “You don’t want to be too tired tomorrow to appreciate Peggy rating Dad’s attempt at the full English breakfast.”

“I could never be too tired for that,” Sharon says with a little laugh, but she is actually feeling sleepy again, so she turns and follows Nat down the hall, glancing over her shoulder one last time at their parents, all ready for another Christmas together.

[fanficfanattic]

"I wish you would write a fic where...

You are a great walloped of feelings and I would love to see something that explores platonically the Amsterdam bike training scene- like from Jamie, being able to be the person who gets to teach and help someone else, and from Roy, actually letting his guard down and letting someone help him with something.

Obviously you do not have to if you aren’t feeling it. I also realize that is an incredibly specific ask, so really anything that marches along the platonically walloped feelings path would be amazing. If its for a gift fic

If you feel like this isn’t the one for a gift fic, then consider this just me popping in to say hi buddy! You’re talented! You deserve to have a lovely day!

I didn’t want to wait once I finished it even though this is a holiday gift! To @readwing with love! 💜💜💜 And a special thanks to @jamietarttdodododododo for the cheerleading and reassurance!

Jamie can’t help but remember the first time he was in Amsterdam. His father saying it was time he taught him “how to be a man, Jamie.” And he tries to think about the second time he was there instead, with Mummy, and the both of them doing their best to fill him up with different knowledge instead.

The entire time he’s running with Roy, that’s what he’s doing. Spouting every fact he can think of, letting what they pass inspire another one. And then another one. All he has to do is run and talk about anything distracting.

It doesn’t occur to him that Roy might ask how he knows so much. That he has to answer or Roy will pick at him until he does. For the longest time the only armor he had was being a prick. He’d done so much to remove it for the people he cares about, for his team, for his own benefit.

But here in Amsterdam, where he had both the worst and best trips of his life? The armor comes up easily. He lies, like a prick, and he says it as pricky as he can, and the worrying thing is that Roy doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t see through Jamie at all. He doesn’t see Jamie.

Then he realizes that means Roy is distracted. By what, he doesn’t know but he should have clocked that immediately when Roy nabbed him from the team. Roy’s favorite way to work off frustration is by vaguely torturing him.

And Jamie knows that, and he doesn’t mind really. He’s had a lifetime of coaches barking at him. This way, with Roy, has felt like it was actually for a purpose. Most of the time it was making him a better player. But if the purpose is also making Roy feel better? He actively wants that.

Unfortunately, with Prick Mode activated, he doesn’t think twice about howling with laughter at Roy’s admission. Then he hears about his grandfather, and remembers Roy was the only other one who really sacrificed something important at the ghost cleansing, so the guilt sets in.

But now he knows what to do with guilt. He knows how to make amends. And more than that he wants to, of his own accord, rather than feeling like his hand is forced. He wants to make it right with Roy, right for Roy, and show him that it was safe for him to trust Jamie with that pocket of vulnerability.

He decides the best thing would be to honor the memory of Roy’s grandad. If Roy thought not learning was disrespectful, than they could feed two birds with one scone. He’ll teach Roy how to ride this bike, say thanks to a man he’d never met but who’d helped make his best friend into the man he is today, and apologize to the man himself. Okay, so sue him, they’re feeding three birds with the one scone.

Except…except it’s four. Because he finds that teaching Roy to ride a bike does more to distract him from the memories than learning did last time he was here. It pulls his focus and his energy. And it actually makes even more sense when he stops to think about it. Because that’s what Roy has done ever since he started training Jamie. Took everything that made Jamie who he was and directed it right where it needed to go.

Which is why, after he’d successfully avoided it all night, he found himself telling Roy the truth about Amsterdam. Roy told Jamie about his grandfather, so Jamie told Roy about his dad, and Jamie taught Roy to ride a bike…and Roy taught him that it was okay to admit that something bad had happened to him. That even if he doesn’t have the language for it yet…he doesn’t have to hide that it happened.

They were just two friends, riding bikes in the dark, telling each other secrets the way they should have both been able to do when they were actual children. Telling each other things that worried them even though they were unrelated to football. They found a magic castle windmill, and got punchy from staying up past their bedtimes, and though they would deny it only a month later; let down their guards enough to become best friends.

[theawakenedstate]

3 Shocking Lessons on Life Purpose I Wish I Knew From the Start

I wanted to share with you 3 Lessons that have shocked me over the years when it comes to my Soul Purpose so you can benefit from them too!

I feel like this concept of finding our dharma and learning how to figure out our life purpose is probably one of the biggest questions that come up post-awakening besides “when does awakening end?” or “how do you really reach enlightenment?”

But our concept of true Purpose is closer than we think.

If you’re having trouble with the question:

“What is my life purpose?”

“I’m confused on what even that really means…”

” Is life purpose just ego talk?”

or maybe you’re even feeling a bit of simply….

I’m just feeling lost on my path, soul searching and when I discover my soul purpose everything will feel RIGHT – I’m suddenly be abundant, I’ll have everything I want – etc. etc.

Does any of that sound familiar?

It’s common to have these thoughts post-awakening and YET –

STOP PUTTING SO MUCH PRESSURE ON YOURSELF

When you’re constantly looking around not filling fulfilled or torn on what direction to go because you know you’re meant for big things – yet

The ascension symptoms coming up keep making you feel like everything is far away and ‘you’re not there yet’

here’s the shocking truth.

1. YOU WILL NEVER BE “There”

Do you ever catch yourself going “But when i get there I will….” When I …. Then I….

When i finally reach enlightenment…

when i finally get the money…

When i Finally reach ASCENSION…

When I finally Heal I will….

This is an egoic pursuit. Functioning from a ‘means to an end goal chase’ that is NEVER ENDING.

One that makes you constantly thirsty for MORE. MORE MORE. And it’s normal – it’s called growth 

Just like my kids play pretend grocery store with fake credit cards and phones because ‘they’re not there yet’ as an adult. This longing we have to be somewhere we’re not is a normal part of our brain’s way to process GROWTH.

Even when you think you got your soul purpose figured out, there will inevitably be another layer even after enlightenment.

There will always be another LAYER..

Just when i think i got it – There’s another layer, because life is like an onion (just like the shrek anology lol)

Instead the Shocking Lesson:

Accept you will never get “there”, It’s about allowing the unfolding of the path on the journey. It’s always about co-creating in the now and being present on the journey.

2. Your Life Purpose is always rooted in your Authenticity and you have to dig to find out who that person is beyond conditioning.

Want to discover your Life Purpose? It’s rooted in YOU BEING YOU.

Your Authentic Self is within you, but chances are due to conditioning, suppression of our intuition, or true gifts – we have lost touch with this part of ourselves.

I’m sure most of you go ” But i do know my authentic self?!”

Most people actually don’t, it’s buried under layers of past conditioning of your identity where people told you ‘WHO TO BE, WHAT TO DO, WHERE TO BUILD YOUR CAREER”

One of the most eye-opening conversations to have with yourself is to ask yourself,

“Which beliefs are actually MINE?”

Because a lot of what you believe just comes from your parents or caregivers, a lot of what you believe comes from your past thoughts, beliefs, habits, actions and behaviors.

That’s why this month in the membership, we’re kicking it off with:

Soul Purpose work through the chakras, we’re doing an EXCAVATION – Digging into the Truth of who you are.

#2 The Shocking TRUTH AND LESSON:

Your authentic self is within you, but you need to be digging within to find out who that person really is beyond your past conditioning.

That’s WHERE YOUR PURPOSE LIVES AND BREATHES. It’s inside your Soul Blueprint within you.

#3. Your Mindset is Everything and it will reveal your Purpose to You

One of the reasons i switched from just “Energy healer/Teacher” to Mindset Coach is I began to Realize – I’ve been teaching Mindset the whole time…and watering it down with words in the new age community.

Your Mindset is a Vibration you’re emitting.

Every word, thought, action, habit has a vibration behind it.

Have you ever asked yourself, where do my thoughts come from?

I used to never have the answer for this – then I studied how the mind works.

Your thoughts come from your beliefs – and your beliefs create the Paradigm of your Identity.

So If you REALLY want to change your negative thoughts,

You need to start learning how to change the Beliefs that are powering those thoughts, to begin with.

Your mindset holds the vibration.

Your Beliefs dominate the thoughts.

Your Actions are influenced by the Feelings that produce those thoughts.

And your Paradigm is established on a rocky inauthentic vibration that is made NOT EVEN FROM YOU!

Shocking Lesson on Purpose:

Your Inauthentic Vibrations are stopping you from Seeing your Soul Purpose.

What you believe, think and even habits you have are not even YOURS – Your Purpose lives inside the person who is BEYOND CONDITIONING.

How you find it – Lives in understanding your Mindset.

So What do you think? Shocking right? Let me know how this lands for you by dropping a comment!

that’s why we’re kicking off the brand new Monthly membership: The Soul-aligned Life Academy immediately with

SOUL PURPOSE THROUGH THE CHAKRAS!  Going Live this Month!

A Soul Excavation into uncovering the depths of Your Soul’s Authentic True self.

When we tap into this place inside of ourselves, we begin to wake up our Authentic Self and step more into our Spiritual Alignment in our daily lives.

We walk forward with clarity, confidence and conviction of tapping into our Life’s Dharma or Soul Truth inside of us.

Learn in 7 Lessons How to easily begin covering, excavating, and unlocking your Soul’s Dharma or Life Purpose

Learn more about the new Academy at the Link below! theawakenedstate.net/the-soul-aligned-life-academy-membership/

psst enjoy this Blog? Do me a favor and Share it on your fav Socials or Pin it! (I love Pinterest! )

https://www.theawakenedstate.net/3-shocking-lessons-on-life-purpose-i-wish-i-knew-from-the-start/

3 Shocking Lessons on Life Purpose I Wish I Knew From the Start

I wanted to share with you 3 Lessons that have shocked me over the years when it comes to my Soul Purpose so you can benefit from them too! I feel like this concept of finding our dharma and learning how to figure out our life purpose is probably one of the biggest questions that […]

[rowanaelinn]

Wires - Chapter Eight

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of death, alcohol, lots of cursing | Word Count: 4,200

“What do they do?” Elide asked, sitting on the same couch as Aelin, both of them watching the race. “Drive in circles around forty-five times?”

Aelin huffed a laugh. “That’s a bit more technical. There’s lots of math involved, as well as strategy.”

“So… they do drive around in circles for two hours?”

That was a way to put it, and one that most people in the world chose to see this sport. Aelin was left alone, with her sober coach upstairs as Lysandra had chosen to watch the race from the stands. She wanted to join her, but apparently it was a bad idea.

This was bullshit, but she had to show a good figure. She had to show that she listened to them, if she wanted to get free access to her pills back. Which was even more bullshit, but she supposed it was how life was.

Aedion was leading the race, but not by much. Less than half a second behind, Rowan Whitethorn was racing him for pole position. It was close, every corner had her heart leap out of her chest, hoping that her cousin would keep his first place.

But he’d had his tires for a while, now, and Rowan had stopped to change his not so long ago. It wouldn’t be an easily won race, but she prayed her cousin would win.

Not only because he was her cousin, but also because she was petty. She and Rowan, they had some sort of truce agreement, they wouldn’t fight each other outrightly. Yet, she still prayed he wouldn’t win one race this season. He hadn’t yet, hadn’t even made it to podium. Every driver had a sloppy season at one point, and it seemed like Aelin would observe Rowan’s live.

“Does watching races remind you of your father?”

Aelin’s body tensed, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe you should be reminded that you have no psychology degree, hence you are not my therapist, just my babysitter.”

“So, we’re not allowed to talk?” Elide asked, voice unhurt by Aelin’s jab.

“No, not about my father.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” she answered, and Aelin almost wanted to believe her. “I didn’t want to cross any boundary; it was a genuine question.”

“Hm.”

“You know,” she said, sitting and looking at Aelin, but Aelin kept her gaze on the TV. “I know that you are not happy about this situation, and it’s normal. I don’t expect you to be. This is a work we will do together. I only wish you to know that I’m here for you, not for your family, for you.”

Aelin finally deigned to look at her, and the woman had a tentative smile on her lips. “Please, remind me, who’s paying you?”

The smile faded from Elide’s face, and she answered, “You know who does. But the fact that your cousin and mother pay me, doesn’t mean that my purpose isn’t to help you.”

“No, it means you’re on their sides.”

“I didn’t know there were sides,” Elide stated, cocking her head to the side.

“I-uh, it’s not what I meant,” Aelin shook her head and looked back at the TV. “Let’s just forget this, please.”

Elide took a few seconds before answering, “Alright, let’s forget.”

Aelin swallowed difficultly, “Thank you.”

“So,” the brunette started again with a joyful sound. “Tell me, what do they do instead of just driving in circle?”

Aelin laughed, “First, everyone underestimates how fit these twenty guys are. They are trained to resist a lot of g-force during the course, I think during tight turns they face up to twenty-four kilograms on their neck. The steering wheels take a lot of strength to be turned. Their reflexes are cat-like, or there’d be accidents all over the track. There’s lots of math involved as well, where to speed, where to slow… Plus, those cars are extremely hot and most of them forfeit water to not have additional weight in their cars, and all the effort make them lose around three kilos per races. Well, there’s more but, that’s more than driving.”

“You seem to know a lot,” Elide said, impressed.

“I grew up here.”

“Do you like it?”

She took a deep breath, thinking about it. “I enjoy the concept,” Aelin said, truthfully. “I like the strategies, especially, it was always interesting to hear the strategists speak when I was younger. But I hate the reality of putting men I love in these cars and never knowing if I will see them again. I hate how they take risks for the entertainment of others.”

“It would scare me, too,” Elide said. “I mean, it does already with strangers. I can’t imagine having to watch my father, uncle and cousin do that.”

“Yeah,” Aelin sighed. “I can’t even ask him to retire, he lives for racing. They all do.”

“But he’s good, yeah?” Elide asked. “Did he ever have a big accident?”

Aelin shook her head, “No, thankfully he’s only been involved in minor crashes.”

“Let’s focus on this, then,” Elide said, turning her eyes back on the screen.

Aelin wished she could watch the race from downstairs, where they had more angles of camera available than what was shown on TV, but this would have to do as her leg had been killing her since the morning and she couldn’t stand for two hours straight.

They were in that part of the track with a lot of corners. It was harder to overtake in the corners, and yet every driver she had talked to had admitted it was their favorite way to overtake. And Rowan Whitethorn hadn’t been an exception to this, he showed this now.

He was so close to Aedion, trying to get a way on one side so he could overtake, but Aedion defended well. He moved his car enough that Rowan could only stay behind, or he would end off-track.

This went on for a few laps, her cousin maintaining his pole position and now the end of the race drew nearer. This again showed in Rowan’s driving style, which she had to observe as his battle with Aedion seemed to the best one this race, every commentator only spoke of it, wondering if Whitethorn would take his first win of the season.

Rowan’s driving showed his impatience he was, how annoyed he was. He tried to overtake where he shouldn’t, putting himself in danger but providing an amazing show for the viewers.

On the twenty-fourth corner, Rowan sped fast, too fast for such a tight corner, and put himself on Aedion’s left, trying to overtake from the inside. But as it was raining, and because of his speed, he didn’t have enough time to brake as Aedion’s car slipped, crashing into Rowan’s.

Her heart nearly stopped as she watched Rowan’s car flip over, going straight into the barrier. There were flames on the bottom of the car, and one part of it was entirely smashed against the barrier.

But Aedion’s car also crashed into the barrier, half crashing against Rowan’s car. The crash was less violent, something they were used to. But Rowan…

The video cut then, going on a dark screen before showing us the commentators. It was procedure during a big crash, she knew that, but she also knew why it was a procedure. They didn’t want to televise a man’s possible last moments. With her heart in her throat, Aelin stood and all but ran downstairs, ignoring Elide’s voice and the shooting pain in her leg.

She must look insane, limping down a bunch of stairs, screaming her uncle’s name. Gavriel appeared in front of her as soon as her feet hit the ground. His eyes were wide, breathing fast. He laid his hands on her shoulder, as if it would stop her from running three miles and go on the crash site. And she wished she could, she wished her goddamn leg wasn’t ruined so much that climbing downstairs exhausted her and hurt so much she felt nauseous.

Or maybe the crash made her feel that way, she didn’t know.

“How is he?” She asked, voice shaking and loud and high. She really must look insane. They still had the cameras working here, they had to know. She went for the screen on the left, but Gavriel wrapped his arm around her shoulder and stopped her.

“Aedion answered his radio, he’s fine.”

She shook her head. That was good to hear but… “Rowan? How’s Rowan?”

“They are trying to take him off his car,” a mechanic beside her answered. “It’s entirely wrecked, and on fire as well.”

Oh, gods.

She pushed away from Gavriel, standing beside the mechanic who was staring at a screen. He stood, “Here, take my chair.”

On any other day she would have refused, but the pain was nearly unbearable today. When she was seated, Gavriel stood beside her, hands on her shoulders as they watched. It felt like hours as a man slipped under the car, and Aelin could barely hold back from vomiting before the man came back, with Rowan beside him.

He was limping, the side of his helmet entirely wrecked, and some parts of his white suit had turned black under the flames, and Aelin could only bless the person who had invented fireproof combinations.

There was an ambulance on the side, but Rowan refused to go in it even if Aedion was getting checked in the one next to it. He refused the help of the paramedics to stand and walk as well, and instead he entered a simple black car, which would bring him back to his paddock.

She felt dizzy, then, and exhausted as well. She wished she could cry, but tears wouldn’t come, so instead she leaned against her uncle.

Rowan could have died today, and it didn’t sit right with her. Not when she knew how it felt to wait those long, antagonizing moments after a crash. His waiting had lasted mere seconds, hers had lasted hours. But even then, Aelin wished he had never known what it felt like. What it felt like to face death.

She rushed to her cousin’s arms when he entered the paddock, and he hugged her close, then went for Lysandra. As if he knew she struggled to stand, Gavriel wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Would you like to go back to the hotel?”

She nodded, too exhausted to protest. That was where he took her, making sure she had a pill against the pain on her nightstand and that she laid comfortably enough on her bed, and he told her he would call a doctor to check on her leg the day after.

---

Usually, with more pills in her stomach, nothing could wake Aelin up. She always slept like the dead, even if she never felt rested. At least it was less time to think, too high to even dream.

But tonight, Aelin had had only one single pill. It wasn’t enough to let her sleep through when someone knocked loudly on her door, so loud she was sure it was waking up everyone else in the rooms next door.

She only wished to stay in bed and curse this person out. But they were relentless, their first pounding on her door. She sighed, standing and wincing at the weight on her leg. She covered her nightgown with a robe, though it only reached a little under the hem of the nightgown.

Whoever had woken her up at three in the morning would pay with her legendary bad mood. She opened the door, ready to send to hell whoever would be right behind it. The plan had only been to let her head out and curse the person out, but her plan changed when she found herself face to face with Rowan Whitethorn.

He was holding his balance against the wall, his other hand grabbing tightly a bottle of whisky. He looked atrocious, a cut on the side of his head covered with tiny, white band-aids. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were dark as were the circles under them.

She opened the door fully, “Rowan, what are you doing here?”

He looked lost, as if he was surprised she opened the door. “Lin… What are you doing to me?”

“Go to sleep,” she said, trying to keep herself composed.

He shook his head, “I-I can’t. Aelin, you’re fucking stuck in my head, I can’t leave if you don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not seeking you out,” she said, keeping her voice even. “Rowan, I’m staying away, do the same.”

“I can’t,” he snapped. “Not when I see your fucking blue hair every day on the paddock, not when I know that you’re watching.” He stumbled on his words.

Her back stiffened, “Did you wake me up to tell me to leave?” He had some nerves, after everything he had done to her…

He shook his head, eyes closing. “I didn’t know you were sleeping.”

She scoffed, “It’s three in the goddamn morning, Rowan, of course I was sleeping.”

“Merde,” he swore, his tongue rolling his native language perfectly. “Je vais te laisser tranquille.” I’ll leave you alone.

He went to leave, but stumbled on his steps, almost falling to the floor. Aelin swore as she shot out of her room, wrapping an arm around his biceps. “Mierda, Rowan, how much have you had to drink?”

He shook his head, “Not much.”

He was a liar, but what was new? “Where’s your room?”

“782,” he sighed, “I think.”

Shit, that was quite far away. Further than she could walk, that was for sure. She sighed, “Come on, let’s sober you up a little.” She tugged him toward her bedroom, and he followed though she was unsure if he really knew what was happening. An idiot, that was what he was.

But no matter the negative feeling she had toward him, she couldn’t in good conscience leave him to fend for himself in such a state. She ignored the pain in her leg as he held himself on her shoulder to hold himself straight, pressing his weight into hers. She turned him, trying to close her door but she must have gone too fast as he turned white quickly.

She swore and opened the door of the bathroom, and he only had enough time to kneel in front of the toilet before he hurled up. She shouldn’t have to take care of such a thing, maybe she could call Gavriel or Aedion so they could help Rowan. But Aedion was with Lysandra, and Aelin didn’t really trust anyone with Rowan. She didn’t know why, and yet that feeling was still there.

She went to the sink and soaked a cloth in cold water, and when Rowan was done vomiting, she helped him sit against the wall. She kneeled in front of him, wetting and chilling his burning skin.

She startled when she felt his hand in her hair, “You dyed it again.”

“Yes.” During the one week break between races.

He frowned, strands of her hair still between his fingers. “Why?”

“I like blue.”

“And I liked you blonde,” he said, slurring over the last word.

She scoffed, then say so low she didn’t think he could hear her, “Why do you think I haven’t been blonde for years?”

But he did, and his eyebrows furrowed. “You could change everything about you and it still wouldn't matter”

Aelin took a deep breath, ignoring what he said and instead passed the cloth over his neck. “Why did you open your door?”

“I thought you were room service.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You used to be funnier.”

“Consider me thoughtfully offended.”

“Good,” he nodded to himself.

She fought the way the corner of her lips wanted to tip up, and instead focused on the sweat at the base of his neck, slightly lowering his shirt to give herself better access. “Why did you drink so much alone?” If he had been with anyone, he wouldn’t have knocked on her door, that was one thing she knew.

“I needed it to stop.”

“Needed what to stop?”

“My mind,” he said, looking straight ahead. “I needed it to shut up, because I can’t stand it anymore.”

“What is it telling you?”

He caught her gaze, and she was taken aback by how much hatred she found there. Was that hatred for her? That wouldn’t surprise her, but the knowledge of it and seeing it are too different things. Voice deep, he said, “Everything you feel about me now, my brain feels about myself. Your disgust is nothing new.”

No, that wasn’t hatred at her but at himself… Aelin was distraught to find that she disliked that idea more than the weight of his hatred on her.

The worst was, what could she say? She had no kind words to give him, no shoulder to cry on. Not anymore. So, she settled for, “At least you hate me back.”

It was his turn to scoff. “I’m trying.”

She swallowed, stopping herself from asking questions. It wouldn’t end well, that was the one thing she knew.  But instead, her brain replayed images, and she screwed her eyes shut as she said, “You crashed, this afternoon.”

“I did.”

“I thought you were going to die,” she admitted, voice quivering.

He raised an eyebrow, “Disappointed?”

Her grip on the cloth tightened, and she couldn’t lie. Not about this. She shook her head and looked deep into his eyes as she whispered, “I’m relieved.” She couldn’t imagine a world where Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t there. Even if for years she hadn’t seen him, he still had been there… But the thought of living whilst he didn’t… It bothered her. “Hating a corpse is awfully boring,” she added, when the weight of his gaze became too much to bear.

He barked a laugh then, and she couldn’t fight her lips from tipping up slightly.

“Come on, old man,” she sighed, getting up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She grunted when she helped him stand, he wasn’t particularly big—couldn’t be with his job—but he still was heavier than her and by far. She stumbled on his feet, and without leaving her room for reaction, he let his head fall onto her shoulder, his hands on her waist.

She didn’t know what to do with her own hands, what to do with what he was doing. But, as strange as it was, it was his scent that made her not resist it as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her waist. She didn’t hug him back, but it was that pine and snow that left her motionless. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep, and allowed herself for one second to think the way she had at fourteen, when she gave him her first kiss. At the way her brain had worked when she had given him her first time when she was sixteen, and at the way she had felt around him every day until the accident.

For a second, she allowed herself to believe the accident hadn’t happened. That she still had two perfect legs, that she didn’t live in constant pain and that she was still dancing every day. She pretended that she wasn’t only a shell of the woman she had planned on becoming.

“What happened to us?” He asked, voice quivering as he pulled back, facing her with his arms still wrapped around her.

Reality tore her away from the fantasy she had indulged in, and she took a step back, turning her back to him as she crossed her arms, feeling an extra layer now that she had left his embrace. “Your father happened.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Rowan defended, hiccupping slightly. “He suffers the consequences of yours.”

She faced him then, seeing red. “The sheer audacity of uttering these words in front of me, in my hotel room. Do you Whitethorns have no shame at all?”

“I get why you’re lying,” he said, his voice lacking the heat of his eyes. “I get why you’re lying to everyone, but there is no need to do so here.”

“Lying?” She sneered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A sight came out of him, and he closed his eyes. “This isn’t even about us, and yet whosever fault it was did this to us.”

Her back straightened, “It was not about you,” she snapped. “It’s about me. It’s about me being in one of the cars when they crashed, it’s about me crying and begging for help for hours on a lonely road while you were doing gods know what. So, no. Rowan, you weren’t affected.”

“My cousin died,” he said, and it lacked the bite those words should hold. Instead, they were void and empty, and it almost made it worse. “My father became a goddamn alcoholic because he couldn’t race anymore because his brain his fucked up. And I lost my best friend, she refused me at the hospital then was giving press conferences on how my father was the reason for the crash on Enda’s funerals. I wasn’t in that car, but don’t you dare say I’m unaffected.”

Aelin looked away for a second, blocking flashbacks from her mind. She wasn’t on that road anymore; her leg wasn’t stuck under half of her father’s car anymore. She had made it, there was no reason to remember the past. Words almost stuck in her throat she said, “There’s no need to remember the past. Let’s get you to bed, instead.”

She startled when she felt a soft thumb stroke her cheek, wiping a tear away. She looked up to find his warm, heavy gaze on her. He was still stumbling on his step as she guided him to her bed. There was no couch in this room, so they would share. She refused to sleep on the floor for his sorry ass.

He almost caught his feet on the carpet, and Aelin colorfully swore in Spanish at how gauche he was when under the influence. She made him turn around the bed, and then sat him on the side of the bed.

Right, now she had to get him rid of these smelly clothes, because she wouldn’t sleep next to someone who stunk of alcohol. “Take off your shirt,” she told him, still standing in front of him. Almost between his legs, actually, but she ignored that particular fact.

“I’m afraid I’m too tired to correctly please you, milady.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, not missing to call him a douche as she reached for the hem of his shirt, helping him get rid of it. “I’m not touching your pants and shoes,” she warned him.

He chuckled and said something in French she didn’t understand, then reached for the buttons of his pants. She looked away, ignoring the way his fingers worked them until he bent to rid himself of his shoes, kicking them away, and stood on weak legs to slide his pants off. She thanked the Gods that he didn’t go commando under those pants, that would have been quite a situation. Well, actually it was seventeen years old Aelin’s favorite wet dream, but this Aelin had died a while ago. Her ghost was just persistent.

He sat back on the bed, giving her his pants and shirt that she put on a chair. She held in her groan when she saw him lay over multiple pillows and half of the blanket. She tried to shake him but wouldn’t move, and she already regretting not calling for someone else. She put her knees on the bed, snatching away her own pillows and forcing him to sit so she could grab the blanket from under him.

When she was done and that he wasn’t in the middle of the bed, above a decent number of pillows and under the blanket, she went to go away but Rowan grabbed the back of her thigh. Again, she sent a prayer to Mala this time to thank her for her robe or Rowan would have made contact with her skin. “Stay,” he breathed.

“Rowan,” Aelin said, voice weaker than she’d like it to be. “Please.”

She went to pull away, but before she could entirely climb off the bed, his hand grabbed her leg. She let out a groan at the shooting pain coursing through her nerves, and she already cursed herself at showing such a reaction when Rowan’s head snapped up.

His grip on her leg was tight and she couldn’t pull away, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, pulling on her leg but he didn’t let go. “Yes, don’t worry.”

But he looked worried, and her heart was beating too loudly as he slowly sat up, still gripping her leg, and slowly broke eye contact. His free hand lifted her robe, and she tried to fight his hold, “Rowan, please.”

But it was too late, his eyes were on her ruined leg. They were wide, his lips parting. She couldn’t read the emotions in his green irises, she could only close her eyes and wish it was a nightmare as he asked, “Aelin, who did that to you?”

••••••

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[snarky-synesthete]

Hi, I read in one of your posts that you "almost have a masters degree in motivating the unwilling" and I just wanna say please. Halp. I'm ruining my life by being the way I am and I can't stop. Everybody talks about my "immense potential" and how it's "such a waste of intelligence" for me to be the way that I am. I'm honestly drowning.

Oh wow. If I had a dollar for every time somebody told me that, I'd be able to afford a life coach for my ownself, lol. I have a pretty significant little alphabet soup of disorders to my name, but I didn't get diagnosed with any of them until my early 30s. What that means is that I had to find ways to compensate for my shitshow of a brain, so I have a lot of tips and tricks. I'm currently working on my doctorate as well, so I'm doing lots of research around mental heath, focusing on teen mental health since I work with teens every day.

First off, you're not ruining your life. You're just living it. Your life isn't something that needs to be put through the wash and purified. It is what it is, and you are who you are. The fact that you're here and breathing and *wanting* to improve are already wonderful things. You're doing okay. ^_^

Next, think about what you want your life to look like. This is a good journalling prompt. There's no wrong way to do this. You can get really specific, right down to the new furniture you'd like to fill your space with; you can have just big picture stuff: "I want to survive high school" or "I want to wake up looking forward to the day." Try to think in positive terms rather than negative. I don't mean "I want to feel happy!" necessarily: but think of things with positive *action*: instead of "I don't want to feel miserable," which is a negative, something you want to subtract from your life, think of a positive: "I want to feel better," "I want to re-connect with an old hobby," "I want to start a diary," things like that. It's easier, sometimes, for our weird monkey brains, if we start off *adding* something new instead of *stopping* something old...even if the "something old" is part of what makes us miserable.

For example, a lot of people want to stop smoking. Quitting cold-turkey is possible, sure, but it's a god-awful experience. Instead of thinking of it as "subtracting" smoking, a better approach would be to ADD something new that can slowly start taking its place. An example in this scenario would be to add in another oral treat you enjoy (I see your mind in the gutter, hello, nice place!) that can take the place of just one smoke a day. A really nice chocolate truffle, or some spicy crunchy chips, or a fancy lollipop. That way, your brain isn't necessarily feeling a *deprivation* or the lack of something it has come to expect, but you're still lowering your daily nicotine consumption.

So that might be the easiest way to start. Look at any habits you might have that don't make you feel good, or that you don't want to carry with you into your future. I don't want to call them "bad habits" because that implies a judgment call, which I am NOT qualified to make about your lived experiences. Obviously, that habit served its purpose for you at some point! But if it's no longer serving you, try to slowly replace it with something that does. Think of it as a shift rather than a removal, and your brain will tolerate the change more easily.

If you wanna get more specific, feel free to DM me, @justanexistentialcrisisnbd ^_^