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35millionandcounting · 1 year

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Dear Mark,

I’m writing this letter because I have to. You will never read this, you will never know my name, you will never know who I am or was or how much you’ve impacted me. And that’s fine, that’s honestly how it should be. The funny thing about parasociality in our culture is that people like you are in an impossible scenario where you mean the entire world to too many people, and to try to connect with all of them would sap you of any energy to create the things that mean so much to us. One human doesn’t have the capacity for that many changed lives, even someone with the seemingly impossible capacity you possess.

I remember the day your 8 million subscriber video went up. I remember it, because I watched it pretty soon after it was posted, and I cried right alongside with you. I obviously didn’t know you personally, but I’d been watching you for long enough that it was clear why it was so distressing. You’ve always cared so, so much about everyone who watches your content, and the words you said in that video have echoed in my head ever since: “so many people need me, and I can’t be there for all of them.” I don’t even know if that’s the exact wording of what you said, but your heartbreak was so obvious, because your heart has always been so big and it was so clear that the realization that there are just too many of us who look up to you, who truly need you in this world.

I remember wishing that there was a way to let you know that we know, we saw you trying, back then and even still to be the best person you can be, to make the best things you can, because that is the way you are there for all of us. I have no idea what kinds of letters reach you, what other words others have said, and I know I’m just a voice in a sea of screams, and in the end it doesn’t matter who I am or what I say. But please know that every day you make something, every day you pour your heart into another project, another video; that IS you being there for all of us.

I have no right to say this whatsoever. I don’t know you personally, I’m not your friend, I’m not your family, I’m no one; but god I am so fucking proud of the man you’ve become over the years. My first memory of watching your content was watching your video on the impossible quiz in 2014, and I was alone, sad, far away from everyone who’d ever cared about me and entering the worst stage of life I’d ever been in; and goddamn nothing in my life had made me truly laugh as hard as I did that night, at 3 am all alone with my thoughts and the darkness. I was crying by the end, and it was the first moment of joy I’d experienced in a long time.

Since then I’ve watched your videos, not every single one and not every single day, but you’ve been such a constant the entire time. I remember the words you said when you played Neverending Nightmares, about how mental illness and depression is “the most real thing in these people’s lives”, and I’d never heard someone give so much respect to what felt like a disgusting flaw of my sick mind. I remember the empathy on your face during your Misao playthrough, when the character gets attacked in the bathroom, and just seeing your face twisted with sorrow for her experience made me feel like my own experiences with assault were worth grieving. Every time you’ve taken a moment to make a video talking about how “we”, the viewers, matter, telling us to never give up, encouraging us to create, speaking and breathing life into every single person who happens to click play. There are so many countless moments like these that would take far too long to name. These all seem so silly and idiotic in the grand scheme of things; afterall it’s just a let’s play, you’re a person I don’t even know, but you gave me and so many others an example of kindness, empathy, integrity—so many things that a lot of us don’t get from people in our lives.

As much as it sounds like I am, I’m not delusional. I have no pretense or thought that if I were to meet you someday that it would be anything other than a quick handshake and me desperately trying to boil down a lifetime of gratitude into a few quick words before getting out of your hair. I honestly don’t even want to meet you, because I know I would cry and I don’t want to put you in that awkward position where you don’t even know me and my emotional reaction is so unbalanced for the situation at hand.

But god I hope you know how precious you are to this world. I hope you know that the world will truly be missing one of its best when you are gone. You talk frequently about the legacy you want to leave behind, that you want to make sure you do everything you can to leave the world better than you found it when you die, to create and make new things always and push yourself and grow and help pave the way for others to follow.

If you died tomorrow, you will have gone far above and beyond all of that. Your legacy already has given life to so many people, so many creations. You have such a unique ability to infuse everything you say with the fullest passion, and it’s infectious Mark. Not many people can speak off the cuff and breathe so much passion and life into every sentiment the way you can. I am so grateful to whatever gods exist in the universe that you found your way to Youtube, to any kind of creative platform, because you are truly a gift. Truly an immeasurable gift to the world.

I’m writing this and posting this anonymously because I don’t need any of these sentiments to be attached to me; I simply want you to know these things to be true. I’m sure you hear from the loved ones in your life how valued you are, because you’ve got good people around you, and I am only speaking to the ones we are even privy to know about; I’m sure there are even more behind the cameras. But I just wanted to make sure you know this from our side of things, from the millions of us who watch quietly from afar.

Never fucking doubt your worth. Never doubt how incredible of a person you are—and I mean “person” with the fullest extent of the word, because you are just another person, a random guy who made a decision to turn on a camera, to try something new. You are nothing more or less than a person, but your creations have given me and many others insurmountable value in our lives. My overwhelming gratitude and compliments written here aren’t meant to put you on a pedestal, or make you out to be some elevated being; I truly believe every person has the capacity to be just as wonderful and just as impactful as you have been, but I also believe most won’t take the leap. It takes incredible strength of will and incredible growth to become who you’ve become to the world, and I know from watching you all these years that you’ve put a lot of hard work into who you are as a person and as a creator. And yet, the person I pass on the street tomorrow has the same inherent worth that you do; it’s a matter of who is willing to use it.

I’m here saying these things because you have used your skills and talents well, to be the best version of yourself you can be, and that is what I look up to. That strength of will, that tenacity, that work ethic, the compassion and empathy you give so freely, how you’ve turned your attention now to paving the way for others while you continue to soar to new and greater heights than you ever have before.

You’ll never know me, but I’m so, so grateful I knew you from the other side of the screen. I’m so grateful for every minute of your time you’ve given to us, for every piece of yourself you’ve shared with us. I’m so endlessly proud of you, because the Mark I subscribed to back in 2014 is not the Mark I see uploading today in 2023, and it’s astonishing how much you’ve grown. I can only hope to become a sliver of the man you’ve become, to have a whisper of the impact you’ve had on people’s lives.

There are so many treasured memories I hold dear to me throughout these years, good and bad and all the in between. I remember the excitement of a new charity stream announcement, and moving my schedule around so I could be there for as many as possible. I remember the panel where Ethan did his flip, and years later watching you both do Unus Annus. I remember when you found Cyndago. I remember the day of Daniel’s death, and the terrifying silence before hearing any solid news. I remember grieving for him, for your niece Miranda, for you during your lowest points that you were willing to share. I remember all the times you’ve spoken of your dad, and how much he impacted you, and who you’ve become because of his example. I remember when you started talking about Amy, and her wonderful touch on so many projects since. I remember when you brought home Chica. I remember the first few videos with your mother, Sunok, and watching the documentary that explored your connection with your Korean roots. I remember the livestream with Sean where you both promised to dye your hair, and all of us wondering how the hell you were going to pull off pink hair. I remember when Lixian was a fan making animations, and when he started up as one of your editors. I remember when A Date With Markiplier came out, and we were all so blown away by the format of that little series. Watching you disappear for stretches of time to return with a new creation you were so excited about every single time, and how they’ve gotten better and better and better—and now you’re making a fucking feature length film in theaters. I remember the different collabs, the heartfelt fan games you’d play that always had a piece of our appreciation for you buried in them. I remember learning you are terrified of the ocean like me, and that you love space unlike me (just as scary as the ocean in my opinion). I remember when the first Unus Annus video went up and was there when the livestream to end it all abruptly vanished.

I can never understand people who stopped watching you or complained because “you changed”, because your continuous changing has been the most beautiful thing to witness. I feel so damn honored that we’ve been allowed to witness you grow and change into a better and better person, watching you work on your flaws and insecurities over time and evolve into someone even more skilled, more capable, more . . . everything that makes you so revolutionary as a creator.

And even though you’ve changed so much, it’s also so wonderful to see what things don’t change. You still laugh at the same types of humor, even though you’ve even changed your laugh (I remember the old one, and Sean’s scarily accurate impression). You’re still as bullheaded as you’ve always been, for better and for worse. You still get so excited to talk about space, and new ambitions, and new projects. You’re still just as compassionate and empathetic, even if you’ve had to pull back a bit for your own privacy and emotional safety.

Most likely, you’ll never read this. I’m not going to bend over backwards to make sure this finds you; if you’re meant to see it, you’ll see it, and if not, then at least I’ve been able to put all these feelings and gratitude into words. If you do read this, I hope it comes off as encouragement and as a big thank you from everyone who’s been impacted by you. I know there are so, so many of us, and I hope others feel this is an accurate representation of who you are to each of us.

Never doubt your impact. Never doubt your worth, and the worth you’ve created by inspiring others to create, which will grow exponentially long past your time on this earth. I know being on your side of the screen has its challenges, and I can’t possibly know how oddly lonely it must be to be so deeply “known” by SO many who will never actually know you in full. I promise you that all your effort has been so worth it, and the excitement of seeing what you’ll accomplish next with your wealth of competence and unwaveringly iron will has often been enough reason to stay alive just a bit longer on the worst nights.

I hope you are well, Mark. In the fullest sense of the word, I hope you are happy and fulfilled and proud—but never satisfied. Because that’s what grows you; you’re never satisfied. I am so fucking excited to watch your movie in theaters on the day of the premiere, and even more excited to see what you’ll do next, because it will always surprise us. I’m excited to see what I will do with my own life, my own creativity, my own passion that’s been fueled by your insatiable spark.

I can’t wait to see who you’ll be in another decade.

Thank you, Mark. Thank you.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

35,098,982 and counting

#markiplier

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 years

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Not to sound like an ass, but how could you let Heartbound languish for two years?

Hmmmm... what could have possibly caused *anything* to languish for two years?

Covid.

Straight up.

Ever since the pandemic started, my creativity has been completely depleted. These little ficlets and snippets are about as much I can manage, and as I'm sure you've noticed, these ficlets and snippets are a far cry from the depth and scope of my actual fics. My actual fics, like Heartbound, consume a significant amount of time, energy, and mental bandwidth. Which I don't always have.

I'm working on getting back to where I used to be, creativity wise. But I'm also trying to treat myself with grace. The pandemic has been traumatic even for those who haven't contracted it, and it's altered how I completely live my life, and I'm trying to be conscious of that.

My brain is not a machine. In fact, in the past two years I've learned it is in fact quite squishy and unreliable, seeing as covid also coincides with me getting my depression and adhd appropriately medicated, which may also have played a role in my lack of creativity.

All of this to say that I'm being gracious with myself and treating myself with the same gentle encouragement I'd treat a best friend. I've treated myself horribly in the past, and honestly... I'm too old for that shit.

I'm soft. I'm sensitive. I'm healing.

Also, languishing?

Bish, it's hibernating.

#personal #also yes... you do come across as a bit of an ass #you may have meant it as a compliment but it doesnt really come off that way #fic writers do this for free #i am no different #stuff happens #even if it wasnt a collective trauma #what if i just wasnt in the right mood to continue it?#that would be equally valid #its one thing to ask if i intend to continue (which i have already indicated i do)#but to ask why i havent continued sooner is incredibly personal and actually quite rude #yall are not entitled to anything i put out #as ive said before i write primarily for myself #i love to hear what yall think about it and get other feedbacks #but i write it bc i want to read it #not bc someone wants or expects me to #especially my actual fics #dear god they take a lot of time and energy and mental capacity

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sympathyfortheblinderdevil · 5 years

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All is Fair

Oh, Dear God. I’ve had an idea for a fic. Tommy is bored with his OBE, MP life. In an attempt to cheer him up, Ada invites him to a fundraising soiree she has organized, and Tommy becomes horny intrigued by a bright young thing.

“I’ve lined up Picassos, Muchas, a couple of Lalique glass figures — lots of up and coming artists.” Ada paced back and forth before Tommy, counting on her fingers the artists whose work would be shown at the charity auction she’d helped to organize for the Grace Shelby Institute. “I snapped them up for a song, but with the crowd I’ve invited all trying to outdo one another they will bring in thousands…” Ada stopped mid-step and stared at her brother. He had insisted on meeting her before the start of business, and after summoning her at such an ungodly hour he didn’t seem to be listening to a single word she said.

“Tommy. Oi, Tommy! Are you listening to me?”

Tommy had been listening. He absorbed every word spoken in his presence, even while he seemed a million miles away. Smoke from a dwindling cigarette curled in a graceful column before his eyes. He was mentally weighing how much money the auction would bring against the amount in his charity reserve account. Of course, he could singlehandedly fund the Institute with the stroke of a pen and skip this whole event, but that wasn’t the point. Publicity was important, and Ada had arranged for all the right people to be seen at his party. That was the point. He knew the rules of the game, but it weighed heavily on him. He was bored with pretending to care about the issues and opinions of the upper-middle class. He craved the gritty realism of Small Heath; the honest observations of the working class meant more to him than the relentless droning of his new peers.

“Yep, Ada, got it,” he sighed as he stood up from his desk and pulled on his jacket. He crossed the room to where she stood and lit another cigarette, seemingly forgetting the one he left burning in the ashtray on his desk. “It should be a resounding success. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

In the clear light of day, Ada could see the strain of the last few years playing out on her brother’s face. His pale blue eyes used to snap with electricity, but now they were slower, deeper, and more contemplative. Not quite sad, but worn and weary. “I know it’s hard for you to go to these things, Tommy, but I’ve invited some bright young people who will make it a bit more bearable. Who knows? You might have fun,” she shrugged and smiled hopefully.

The energy that it took to keep up the façade of a legitimate businessman and Member of Parliament had sapped every ounce of fun from his life. “That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” he mumbled as he stepped out into the hall and out the door.

***

“Lia, wake up!”

Sunlight streamed in through the window, painting the backs of Lia’s eyelids pink and warming her face. She had stayed up late talking with her cousin the night before, catching up on family gossip and getting the lowdown on her new job.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled and pulled the sheet over her face. Her mind lazily drifted to thoughts of the upcoming day. She was to train as an assistant librarian; a position made possible by her cousin’s connections at City Hall. Even though she was grateful for the job, the temptation of a few more minutes’ sleep was tough to resist.

“Now! It takes a while to get across town. I stuck my neck out to get you this job, and I won’t have you being late on your first day.”

The rapidly approaching clacking of high heels on hardwood let Lia know that her cousin Jenny meant business, so she threw back the covers and groaned. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“You’d better be,” Jenny called. “I’ve got fresh scones and tea.”

Jenny’s two up two down in Small Heath, Birmingham was like all the others in her street, except where the other houses were filled to capacity with large families, hers was all but empty. Her mom and dad had moved back to the country, and her brothers were off with their own families, so in order to stave off loneliness, she wrote to invite her favorite cousin to come live with her in Birmingham. “It will be great fun, and there’s a position coming open at the library. They promised to hold it for you. After receiving the letter, Lia and her family decided that the change would do her good. The country was stifling Lia. If she stayed, she had no prospects for anything other than marriage to a local farmer and a brood of children. Birmingham meant freedom and adventure for the restless young woman, so she went.

The pale yellow frock Lia wore stood in sharp contrast to the sooty dark patterned wallpaper in the kitchen. At one time it must’ve been green with pink flowers, Lia mused as she sipped her tea which was the approximate color of the flowers on the wall.

Jenny laid a plate of scones down on the table and eyed her cousin. “You’ll need to get darker dresses, Lia. The mud and soot of Small Heath will make a hash of that.”

Lia rolled her eyes and smiled, “I plan on doing just that with my first paycheck. In the meantime, maybe I should help myself to your closet.”

“Not with those knockers you won’t,” Jenny teased. It felt good to have her cousin in the house, and despite the early hour, they were both in the mood to laugh.

Jenny sipped at her tea and flipped through the morning post until one envelope, in particular, caught her attention. Her lips moved as she whispered under her breath, and her eyes read and reread the writing on the heavily embossed card.

“What’s that?”

“My boss has forwarded an invitation to me. It’s for an art auction at the Grace Shelby Institute.” Jenny’s eyes were wide. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I’ve been invited!”

“That’s great! Wait, do you have to go with your boss?”

“No, it’s my own invitation, and I get to bring a guest.”

The name Shelby rang a bell with Lia. Jenny read the look on her face and lowered her voice as if Arthur Shelby himself were lurking just outside her door. “Yeah, those Shelbys. But they’ve gone legit. The leader is even an MP now.”

Lia arched an eyebrow, “Legit? How exactly does a razor gang go legit?”

“The Shelbys can bloody well do whatever they want, and we are going to this event. It means a lot to get invited to these things, and I need to show that I can fit in.”

***

The pale blue dress that Lia wore had a low cut back and fringe at the knee, not at all the stuff of a librarian’s wardrobe. She had worn it to a formal engagement party the year before and had been pining away for a reason to wear it again. In a room full of tweeds and sensible shoes, she was a flash of blue sky on a stormy day. Her cousin dressed to blend in with the crowd—perfect for a work event, and Jenny was certainly all business tonight.

While Jenny circulated around the room, Lia availed herself of several glasses of champagne and studied the paintings on offer. As the daughter of a farmer, she had not had many chances to go to museums and galleries, but she loved art and soaked up everything she could read about it. There was an amazing selection of work at the Institute including a cubist piece by Picasso, but what really caught her eye was a group of Art Nouveau paintings by Alphonse Mucha. She stood, sipping her champagne and smiling at a depiction of a woman in a gracefully flowing gown on a backdrop of stars.

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” A sweet feminine voice with a Brummie lilt drew her out of her reverie. Lia turned around to see a woman with porcelain skin, dark bobbed hair, and piercing blue eyes extend a hand toward her.

“Ada Thorne, and you are…”

“Lia Montrose,” she managed to answer in a relatively confident manner. Jenny had mentioned the Shelby’s sister on the way there, but Lia never thought she’d end up in a conversation with her.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You know, at most of these things people only glance at the paintings and then try to make business deals for the rest of the night. It’s nice to see someone actually appreciate the art for a change.”

She held up a perfectly manicured finger in the direction of a waiter who immediately brought over a tray of drinks. “Champagne?” She handed Lia a fresh glass without waiting for an answer and then took one for herself. She smiled conspiratorially and raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen the Max Ernst yet?”

“You have an Ernst?” Lia asked, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she realized and closed it.

“Yeah, it’s in the next room. Come on.” She hooked her arm in Lia’s and led her to the next room where, indeed, the promised painting hung.

“It’s bloody amazing,” Lia whispered.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m sure you could have it for a song. None of the tossers here will recognize its significance.” Ada gently shook her head, and the rubies around her neck caught the light. Lia blushed and looked down. She had not near enough to even make a starting bid on any of the artwork. Ada led Lia around talking about the various works up for auction. She was genuine and warm. Not at all what Lia imagined a Shelby would be like. When Lia explained that she couldn’t actually buy any of the art because she had just started a job as a librarian, Ada commiserated with her about the low pay.

“I was a librarian myself for a time. If it weren’t for my brother Tommy… well, let’s just say I know what it’s like to live on a librarian’s pay...and much, much less”

Ada didn’t expand on her role at Shelby Company Limited, except to say she dealt in imports and exports, and Lia didn’t pry. Even though Ada spoke with a candid ebullience, it seemed safer not to ask questions. As they were discussing the merits of public reading rooms a man entered by a side door and motioned for Ada to come over. “Oh, dear. If you’ll excuse me, I should go to make sure that everything is running smoothly. It was so nice meeting, you Lia.”

“Likewise Mrs. Thorne.”

“Call me Ada,” she warmly smiled and was on her way.

Lia was positively buzzing. She had lost track of time and of how much champagne she had quaffed while talking to Ada. She squinted across the hall into the main room and scanned the crowd for Jenny, who was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to her, someone had been watching in admiration as she strolled along.

Another Picasso caught her eye, and she stood squinting and biting her bottom lip as she looked at it. She was so astonished by the colors and lines that she hardly noticed the gentleman who had come to stand beside her and ask her what she thought of it.

“Vastly overrated. I much prefer his blue period...”

As she spoke, she turned to find herself under the gaze of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He took her in with an intensity that was slightly lessened when he raised one corner of his mouth and tilted his head a bit. His voice was a low, raspy rumble and Lia felt it in her gut when he tutted and spoke again.

“If our Ada were here, she’d tell you all about how it represents the chaos of war and the destruction wrought by the powerful…how mechanization renders people obsolete…turns us into interchangeable parts.”

Lia stared at him as her mind lurched toward the realization that maybe she shouldn’t have been so candid. Our Ada? “Are you…”

He turned his whole body to face her. “Thomas Shelby. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs…”

As he kissed her hand her breath caught in her throat. She was toe to toe with the most powerful man in Birmingham, and his warm soft lips were currently on her skin. Tommy did not fail to notice the little shiver of electricity that passed between them.

“Miss… Miss Lia Montrose, and the pleasure is all mine.” The heat from his lips on her hand made its way up to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and swirled the champagne in her glass. “Great party.”

“Party, event, fundraiser, no matter what you call it it’s all about separating this lot from their money. Since my Picasso is shite, tell me, which ones do you like?” There was a hint of mischief in his voice as he spoke.

Tommy liked that there was something different about her. She was younger than the usual patrons of local charities, but the difference seemed to do more with the light in her eyes as she surveyed the room. Bright. The word Ada had used to describe their special guests sprang to his mind. She was one of those bright young things who Ada invited to try to make him have fun. There was a distinct lack of pretense in the way she carried herself. She had spent the evening looking at and chatting about art instead of business, and her honest reaction to his question did not surprise him in the least.

Lia giggled a little and apologized. “I didn’t mean to insult your taste in art, Mr. Shelby…”

“Call me Tommy.” He lazily caressed her body with his eyes.

“…I didn’t know who you were when you asked me.” Lia’s voice quivered, betraying her surprise at the bold way he was looking at her. After all, he was Tommy Shelby, and she was taken aback by the open way in which he was flirting with her.

He took a step closer and raised his eyebrows. “Had you known, would it have changed your answer?”

Lia bit her lip and fought back a smile before answering, “Well, no, but I would have used a bit more tact.” She looked up through her lashes at him.

Tommy held her gaze and waited for her to answer what he had asked previously. She seemed a bit dazed, so he repeated the question. “Which ones do you like?”

She glanced around the room, gathering her thoughts and began, “I really like the Mucha paintings. They are much more organic in how they reflect the beauty found in nature and…” As she trailed off, she realized that Mr. Shelby was still looking directly at her. His unwavering attention coupled with the champagne made it very hard for her to concentrate.

Tommy could see that she was having some difficulty in expressing herself, and he was having quite a lot of fun teasing her. He narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue along his lips. “What makes you think the Picasso is shite?” he asked in an exaggeratingly sincere voice.

She drained her champagne. Liquid courage could only help her current situation. “Personal preference, I suppose. It’s ridiculous,” She leaned closer to him in a conspiratorial manner. “It’s overwrought and pretentious.”

As soon as the words left her mouth Jenny came into view. Her eyes were huge as she gingerly approached Lia and Mr. Shelby.

“Oh, Jenny, let me introduce you to Tommy. We’ve been discussing his art collection.”

Tommy offered a warm greeting to Jenny, who hid her surprise as best she could. “Mr. Shelby, thank you for extending an invitation to my cousin and me.”

“My pleasure. The fine work you’re doing for our city has not gone unnoticed, and I’m happy to show my appreciation. Do you have opinions on art, Miss Montrose? Your cousin is partial to Mucha.”

Lia giggled and smiled up at Tommy, “Well, yeah, of course, I prefer him to Picasso.”

Jenny’s eyes shifted from Lia to Tommy and back again, as she could hardly believe what she was seeing. There was an obvious attraction between them. Lia was fresh from the country and had no way of knowing the gravity of the situation she’d stumbled into. But Jenny did.

She took the empty champagne glass from her cousin’s hand and placed it on a passing tray, “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mr. Shelby, but we must be going.”

Lia frowned, and Tommy’s demeanor cooled as he turned to face Jenny. “Won’t you stay for the auction?”

“We would love to, but…” Jenny’s excuse was mercifully cut short by an announcement that the auction was beginning.

Tommy shifted his attention back to Lia and slowly shook his head, “It’s a shame, you know. I could use your expertise to run up the bids.”

Lia looked over her shoulder as she walked toward the door and smiled sweetly, “That wouldn’t be fair, now would it, Mr. Shelby.”

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby x oc

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iraklismytridis · 5 years

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Arcturian Group Dear ones, the world is increasingly moving toward more revelations with regard to negative actions and those involved in them. Be not afraid of what you may see and hear from commercial news sources or your technology for everything that resonates with old energy cannot help but change or actually disappear as new and higher frequencies integrate into the collective.

Many commonly accepted rules, beliefs, and concepts that over time have resulted in today's belief system, must be exposed for what they really represent before those who consider them acceptable will be able to see them for what they really are--programs based in false beliefs and the surrendering of personal power to those who seek it for themselves.

Appearances would testify that mankind is going backwards and reverting to an old state of consciousness. In reality, consciousness is going forward. Each day as higher frequencies of Light increase, more individuals become aware of what up to now has either been sanitized through false teachings or simply hidden behind closed doors.

Allow your light to shine in each now moment of the day for this is what adds to the incoming frequencies of Light flowing from higher dimensions. Accept that you are the one you have searched for over lifetimes. The high resonating energy of each awakened consciousness is what will bring change, expose shadows, and assist the un-awakened to wake up.

All is proceeding according to plan. Rejoice as you witness increasingly more people become aware of the need for change and better ways of living for all rather than a select few. Changes are coming, but don't spend your days waiting and looking for them while dwelling on and adding energy to negative appearances. Rather keep your focus in truth, in the higher frequencies of conscious Oneness with Source and what that means. Remember, you are creators.

Honestly examine how much time and energy you spend thinking about negative issues and learn to be very selective with regard to networking, websites, or groups that easily pull followers into dense energy under the guise of information. Many of you are beginning to recognize an energetic heaviness when visiting certain websites, news sources, or even entertainments.

Be intuitively selective with regard to what you accept into your consciousness. Many sites that began as light fun and interaction with others have become platforms for promoting fear and separation.

Understand that as your consciousness increasingly shifts to new levels, you automatically move out of alignment with some previous interests--online or in person. Attempting to make something from a previous state of consciousness work as it once did is futile and only serves to hold one in bondage to energy that is familiar but which has been outgrown.

Be very honest with regard to how some people, places, or things effect you and have the courage to withdraw from them if they no longer serve. Not only are you changing, but many things that began innocently enough also changed as they were recognized to be excellent platforms from which to to promote an agenda. Always listen to and trust your intuition in these things.

There is much to come dear ones, much that we cannot yet speak about for we do not wish to influence you or cause you to sit back awaiting the arrival of some concept of "savior".

Love yourselves, all of yourselves not just the "good" parts, and allow your inner process to unfold. A great deal of clearing-- physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually is taking place at this time. Many of you are experiencing odd symptoms of one sort or another on one or all levels,

The clearing of old energy is individual because energies needing to be cleared result from individual experiences and different lifetimes. One person's process may be to actually re-experience something while another's will simply be to feel exhausted or sick. Allow you process without comparing it to another's.

Allowing indicates a consciousness able to trust that the God/I AM of your being knows how to express ITSELF as and through you without your need to tell it how. In every situation, simply say; "I allow..." rather than "Teach me how to allow" because if your intention is to be taught, opportunities for practice will indeed present themselves.

Rest and pamper yourself when you feel the need but don't endow your clearing symptoms with power. Love and support your physical body as it clears old cellular memory and integrates new frequencies of Light . Speak to your cells telling them to release low resonating energies acquired through inheritance and experience, and allow frequencies of Light to replace them. Visualize bright golden Light moving into each cell and pushing out any shadow as it does so.

Everyone at some point reaches a level of awareness in which they must cease looking to others for love, cooperation, gratitude, appreciation, friendship, support, etc. even from those where it is most expected.

These things are God qualities, facets of Oneness, that human beings in and of themselves do not have to give. Looking to some person for what God alone possesses can only result in disappointment because individuals are only able to express God qualities at the level of their attained state of consciousness.

Every person eventually evolves to a place where they must begin to acknowledge their Oneness with Source and seek only from IT. This then allows whatever is needed, be it the solution to a problem or the receiving of appreciation, to manifest outwardly though the avenue best qualified.

Solutions often appear through a person from whom it is least expected or even a stranger. Never doubt that what you need will appear, often before you know there is a need if you rest always in a consciousness of Divine completeness.

Third dimensional energy is and always has been about looking outside of self for everything. This is because third dimensional energy can only express as duality and separation. Enlightenment means realizing that harmony, wholeness, completeness, abundance, love, acceptance, appreciation, safety, security, and infinite supply are already fully present within never dependent upon outer appearances but rather upon a conscious realization of SELF versus self.

God qualities express and flow through humans, but can never flow from them, simply because human beings in and of themselves do not have these qualities to give. Once you understand this, you stop being disappointed by another's lack of empathy, appreciation, friendship, love, support, or gratitude because you understand that every person is only capable expressing God at their level of consciousness. Everyone is expressing their highest level of awareness.

By not expecting another to give what only God has to give you are loving and allowing them to be who they are at this particular point in their evolutionary journey. At the same time you are allowing yourself to trust that what you may seem to need at any given time already exists within and so you allow the God qualities of your own Divine Consciousness to flow wherever and through whomever is the best vehicle.

In these times of change you are witnessing the disappearance of much that has always been held as being "tried and true"-- facts about successful living that you could rely on. Fear often arises for even the spiritually evolved when suddenly they discover certain solutions no longer work or carefully laid plans fall apart.

You have all lived lifetimes based in mind alone, where plotting and planning was the only acceptable way to resolve issues of any kind. Shifting away from mind alone and into truth and intuition is difficult at first when things begin to no longer work the way they are "supposed" to.

Because almost everyone still carries frequencies reflective of familiar and commonly accepted ways of doing things, panic, confusion, and fear will often manifest as an individual moves to a level of consciousness that requires trust and allowing.

Begin to put everything you have learned about truth throughout this and your many other lifetimes into practice and begin to totally embrace the fact that you are a Divine Being having third dimensional experiences through your own choice.

Spirituality was all well and good and even quite comfortable when it was something discussed in classes, listened to in lectures, read in metaphysical books, given through a psychic, or by meditating now and then. It was something you enjoyed with like minded people and left you feeling "holy" and perhaps even a little "better" than those who didn't know what you did.

That work is complete. You are ready to leave behind spiritual tools based in a sense of separation that promoted struggle in a vain attempts to contact some far away God or become enlightened. You came to believe that spirituality could only be attained through effort, ceremony, right practices, and a whole lot of work. You now know that everything you sought through these practices is within.

You may still be guided to seek help from a certain teacher, book, or class to help you move through a "stuck" place, but spiritual tools are never intended to become one's lifeline. A continuing reliance on anything outside of SELF simply prevents one from realizing that everything they need is fully present within. The books, classes, crystals, mantras, and gurus necessary to one's earlier steps are meant to be bridges leading within.

Example; Crystals carry unique and often very powerful energy, but are meant to align with and strengthen this same energy within the individual, rather than give them something they don't already posses.

Those of you who are spiritual teachers in some capacity must keep in mind that it is vitally important that you never allow human ego to keep your student coming after they are ready to go "solo". A spiritual teacher's job to give wings to each student as they lovingly guide them toward realizing their Oneness with Source.

Integrate each truth as it reveals itself to you and live from your highest attained level of awareness. At some point IT begins living ITSELF as you without effort or study on your part. Most of you are either already there, or close to it or you would not be drawn to or even understand these messages.

Let go dear ones. Let go and jump off that spiritual cliff you have teetered on for so long. Allow your Divine self to be your sword and shield. Accept that you really are a Divine expression of God in material form and never have been a powerless human subject to all the manifestations of duality and separation.

I AM everything I have sought for lifetimes...there is no longer any need to keep seeking.

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eremiss · 5 years

Text

29. Heal

Thancred is no stranger to bad days.

Everyone has them, particularly the Scions, particularly since the banquet in Ul’dah.

Even after they’re reunited and life begins to flow again, they all have days where they snap or glower more than they should, more than they’d like to, more than they used to. But they all work on it in their own way.

Thancred has most definitely had a lot of bad days since the Bowl of Embers, since Urianger’s machinations came to light, since he betrayed the Ascian they thought he’d allied himself with, and since Warriors of Darkness left for their world and took Minfilia with them.

It isn’t every day, somehow. Even though Minfilia’s absence clings to him like static, tinging the edges of his awareness with emptiness that aches if he makes the mistake of thinking about it, every day isn’t necessarily a struggle.

Some are, though.

Thancred soldiers through them all despite, of course. How could he not? He rises when he doesn’t want to and goes on about his life, distracting himself with work when he has to. He does what he should, for his sake and others’, for the sake of Minfilia’s memory. Sometimes he can hide when his mood is dipping and no one is the wiser, but other times his words are too clipped or the smile he pins on isn’t convincing enough to make up for the shadow in his eyes. Sometimes another’s words will mellow him out, as will his for them on their rough days. They check, they balance. It works. They all work through it.

Either way, ilm by ilm, he’s making progress back to being himself, even when the bad days almost feel as though they drive him back rather that stop him in place.

Despite progress, however, some days are just...too much. Too hard. He doesn’t have the energy to crawl out from beneath them. Those are the worst days.

Gwen helps with those. He never asked her to. And they don’t talk much about it after the fact, passively avoiding the topic of that pothole on the road to recovery.

On the better days when he’s himself, it’s all fine. And the two of them are fine, going about their lives and poorly concealing their relationship.

On the rougher days, she’s patient. He’s reminded of the time after Lahabrea, when he’d been returned to the Scions and was struggling to put his life back together. She didn’t do anything beyond simply being there, but it was enough. She does that for those days, too.

And on the worst days, the ones that are too much, Gwen becomes a master of being what he needs rather than what he wants. She bothers him out of bed, talking and asking and cajoling, and she gets him up when others steer clear. She makes him move, even if it’s just to go through the motions, rather than leaving him to wallow in this newfound pit.

When Thancred is too worn, when he can barely lift his head, she’ll coax him into an idle, meaningless conversation about something or other. The kinds of conversations that don’t require thinking because they don’t matter, the kinds that are easy associations, random thoughts and spontaneous replies, the kind that’s just noise. Thancred winds up speaking and chatting even when he feels like he doesn’t have it in him, when he wants to do nothing more than just lie in his bed and wait the day out. Because otherwise Gwen won’t leave him alone, he knows. He won’t get any peace and quiet, and she’s too stubborn to be discouraged and dismissed by being ignored. There’s a little sliver of his own better judgement that her presence riles up, too, that pokes at him and frowns at his laziness until he finally does something just to prove it wrong.

Gwen finds ways to get him out of bed while they talk, sometimes with touches sometimes with glances or gestures. She finds ways to get him dressed without mentioning it, and doesn’t even acknowledge when he glowers at her or grumbles about it. And then, somehow, she gets the two of them walking. Thancred doesn’t know how she does it without him noticing, seeing how she’s no good with subtlety and he’s supposed to be a master of espionage and spying and being aware of himself and his surroundings. He blames magic. He doesn’t know where he gets the energy, either, because he would swear he doesn’t have even an onze in him.

Often as not they’ll be halfway through some circuitous route around Revenant’s Toll before he realizes she’s gotten him out of the Stones or wherever else he’d holed himself up.

When Thancred’s mind feels too slow, when even fitting two thoughts together is beyond him, Gwen will ask for his help with something she most definitely does not need help with. It’s always something minor, something small and menial that’s just shy of mindless, something that doesn’t actually need him but that he could make easier. Something that, on a good day, would be easy as breathing. Gwen always manages to coax him out of his hole because he already knows arguing with her is a waste of time and he doesn’t have the mental capacity for it anyway. She drags him along so he can suffer through helping with a task that’s perfectly doable with two hands but easier with four, or one that’s fine to do alone but made a bit better with company, even when said company is surly and tired.

Sometimes the ulterior motives are painfully obvious. She makes no effort to disguise them anyway.

Like when she asks for help gathering vegetables and herbs when she knows that he’s skipped some meals --because of course she does, she’s got a sodding sixth sense for the health of her comrades. And then when they go to put it all away in the kitchens she finds a way to keep him there while lunch or dinner is made because, hey, they’re already there, right? Failing that she at least forces some water on him and some food that requires no prep, no time, no cleanup, so he can’t use any of those excuses to refuse it, like a piece of fruit or a stolen muffin.

And dear gods, he knows she won’t believe him if he tries to say he’s not hungry or insist that he’s fine. He knows he’ll never hear the end of it if he admits how long it’s been since he’s last eaten, or fesses up to the fact that some nights he doesn’t sleep for no reason beyond the fact that he just doesn’t. He knows she’ll get that worried little glint in her eye that makes something deep in his chest sink and throb like a headache. So he waits, and grouses and taps his foot... And he eats, and that night, usually, he sleeps.

Gwen knows him too well is the problem. And she’s too sodding clever when she wants to be, and too stubborn to be driven off by his bad temper and gruffness.

Thancred learned early on she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, though that doesn’t always stop him from trying. He learned that getting up and just getting her request over with, no matter how aggravating and galling it was to be forced into conversation or dragged out of his room to do something inane, is far easier than trying to argue with her and convince her to leave him be.

And then his pride winds up rankled somehow, grumbling at him, Are you really going to say you can’t rearrange a couple of books? Are you really going to lie around in yesterday’s clothes and not even get out of bed? Are you really so far gone? until he spites himself into submission.

He knows, deep down, that Gwen’s refusal to be shaken, to be dismissed, to be ignored, comes from experience. She knows what it’s like to be stuck in a low place and need a hand out of it, little as said help might be wanted in that moment. He doesn’t know when she experienced such a thing, or the cause, but that tinge of knowing and understanding behind her words makes it clear enough.

Gods and the way she asks drives him mad.

Gwen asks like it’s any old day and she simply needs a hand or could do with a bit of small talk, like he’s not wallowing or grumpy or unpleasant to be around. She doesn’t come in ready to bargain, she doesn’t come with the intention to bribe, she doesn’t start with her heels already firmly dug-in ready to goad him. She doesn’t bat her eyelashes or simper ingratiatingly, she doesn’t wink slyly at him or make teasing promises or allusions. She doesn’t ask out of pity, nor begrudgingly, because she knows she should check in on him and keep after him.

She just asks, simple and genuine, because she simply and genuinely wants his company. She simply and genuinely wants him to get out of bed, get dressed, and be a person despite whatever hollowness is aching in his head or in his heart, despite the hole that opens up under him on the worst days. And then she stands there, watching him with those loud deep-green eyes of hers that know, on some level, what he’s going through and refuse to leave him to suffer like he deserves.

It pulls at him like a magnet pulls iron. She just… Treats him like he’s still himself beneath whatever crap decided to pile on him in his sleep, like it’s simply a bad day that he’ll get through rather than his new, terrible state of being. She treats him like she always has, though perhaps a little gentler. It makes his heart and chest swell and tighten uncomfortably, no matter how much he tries not to think about it.

Thancred is always tempted to argue, to be firm and refuse this time, despite her good intentions, despite his better judgement, despite knowing it’ll be like pulling teeth because she isn’t going to just leave him be, because she never has before and she’s not going to start now. He’s so tempted to say ‘no’ and stick with it, then just ignore her when he’s too tired to argue, because some days he doesn’t want to and some days he just can’t.

The words, the dismissals, the arguments, always form in his head and sometimes makes it so far as the tip of his tongue.

But then he gets thinking, because no matter how tired and crappy he feels, it’s never so much his own mind can’t turn against him. And Gwen just stands there, caring and patient and quietly expectant and so godsdamned empathetic and understanding that sometimes it makes him want to scream.

It’s not fair.

Thancred always tells her so. He tells her as he pulls himself out of bed, and then peppers it into whatever conversation she manages to pull out of him. He tells her as he reluctantly follows her to whatever menial task she has decided she needs help with. He grouses and mutters and sighs plenty about all manner of things while they walk, talk, work and eat. She takes it in stride, chatting and joking with him like he isn’t being something of an arse.

He’ll get his comeuppance for it, he knows, but some other time. On a better day when he’s himself without effort, without help, he’ll take it on the chin with a sigh and sardonic smile. She saves her snark for days when his head is clearer, when his mood is higher and steadier, when he has the fortitude to withstand the jeers and jabs and retorts he’s owed.

Sometimes she saves it for a day when he’s too sharp, to bitter, too angry, and it sobers him up like a bucket of cold water. Those are the hardest, when he’s angry rather than just empty, but she’s a cure for those, too, like iodine on a wound.

It all evens him out.

Whatever Gwen does to get him out of his room, and whatever grievances he might air for being made to suffer her goodwill, the rambling conversations and bells of light work in the open air always leave Thancred feeling...lighter.

Maybe not ‘better’, precisely, but the invisible weight that grates and tears at him doesn’t feel quiet so heavy when it’s all said and done. He has more energy, for some reason, and the day doesn’t feel so long. His smile and eased mood aren’t so fake.

At the end of the day he goes to sleep saying he did something, however small, and it’s more than nothing.

At the end of the day he feels like himself on a bad day. It’s a strange thing to think about when he notices it. At the end of those days, the days...felt like a day. A single bad day. A single bad day that’s ending, and tomorrow might be different. The creeping shadow of dreary uncertainty that might otherwise whisper that every day will be as hard as the last is pushed back a little, and he can rest more easily.

At the end of the day, when Thancred slips into Gwen’s room or draws her into his despite all of his earlier grousing and put-upon sighs, he doesn’t feel so much like an intruder or a nuisance. He knows he is one, that he’s a bother, a burden, and that she has to be getting tired of putting up with his low points, occasional as they might be. He knows all of that, but she’s never said anything of the sort. Never even hinted at it.

Gwen never seems to mind him stealing even more of her time, even though he knows she should. She breathes a comfortable, pleased little sigh when they crawl into bed and cuddle together, sometimes talking, sometimes just listening to each other’s breathing until they fall asleep. She giggles and smiles in the dark when he finds the will to be his old self, when his hands wander and they keep each other up for another bell or two. And when he can’t manage either of those she’s content to merely sleep beside him, so he can have the comfort of not being alone.

Everything she does is...In the moment, it’s annoying, it’s irksome, it’s a pain in the arse.

And it’s always baffling and bewildering. Her time is so limited, why would she waste babysitting him? Because that’s what all this is, he knows it is.

It’s necessary, whatever annoyance it may bring. It’s healthy.

He needs it. He needs it. More desperately than he’ll ever admit to himself, let alone anyone else. He knows that. That’s part of the reason, he thinks, that he always gives in. She’s giving him what he needs, not what he wants, and he’s not quite fool enough to refuse it..

At the same time as he feels guilty for his neediness, he’s grateful beyond measure for her concern, for her patience and stubbornness and the affection she freely gives him. He’s grateful for her steadiness and kindness, and for the snark and retorts and looks that remind him when he’s misstepped and hold him accountable despite his mood. He doesn’t deserve all this...this gentleness and care, he knows he doesn’t, but he can’t bring himself to push it away.

Thancred doesn’t give voice to his gratitude, at least not directly. He knows he should, but...

Gwen isn’t always there, of course. She’s the Warrior of Light. She’s busy. There are dozens of things that take priority over him in the first place, obviously, but she definitely has more important things to do that put up with his gloom.

He’s always kept himself informed of her travels, long in the habit of keeping tabs on where she’s off to and when, as well as what she’s supposed to be doing there. But on his worst days he can almost feel that she isn’t there the same way he can feel when a room is empty and he’s by himself. Her absence is strangely palpable even before she doesn’t knock on his door to bother him out of bed. He dreads those days, but not just because she isn’t there to get him out of bed. He...misses her.

At the very least, it’s not quite the detriment he’d feared it would be. Because by the times he has one of those worst days while Gwen’s not around, she’s gone and gotten him expecting things about himself.

The nerve of that woman, raising his expectations and getting him into good habits.

Even when Thancred doesn’t want to leave his room and Gwen isn’t there to make him, he finds a way. The idea of just sitting around like a bump on a log, the notion of just being useless, the thought of her coming back to hear he’s been brooding alone all day, bothers him when it hadn’t before. It eats at him, to loud and persistent to ignore, until he rolls out of bed and gets up.

At the very least he gets himself out of his room. Sometimes he gets all the way out to that little park towards the back of the Toll, simply strolling around and people watching. Sometimes he organizes files or does a bit of manual labor, a small task anyone can do, including someone in the mood to do nothing.

It’s all little things, baby steps, but he does them himself, on his own.

He feels better for it, in the end. As do his friends, watching him stand on his own, with a bit of help every now and then, and move forward rather than slumping like he has before.

There are bumps, of course. No road is perfectly smooth, even when Gwen is there with a guiding hand. Some of the worst days are somehow even worse.

There are days, with and without her, that he barely makes it as far as the aetheryte plaza before he’s spent. There are days that whatever little chore he’s started is left half-finished, or completed to just the barest minimum. There are days even a slice of apple and a glass of water feel like too much.

However it ends up, he at least starts it, and getting started is more than nothing. Doing something, even if he doesn’t finish it, is better than doing nothing. He repeats that to himself like a mantra.

Eventually enough time passes that the sheer distance of it is healing in itself, soothing aches and softening hard edges that have taken shape in his thoughts. After a time the worst days lessen to bad ones, and he’s afflicted with them less and less. Thancred finds himself again, just with a few more cracks and chips than he had before.

That’s fine.

He gets back into his work, his assignments, his routine.

After a time, ‘should’ and ‘knowing’ are enough to combat bad days, enough to get him up and moving in his routine, just like he’s used to.

Thancred is inexorably closer to Gwen now, without the fog of unsorted, tangled emotions and thinly-veiled grief in the way. How could he not be after all that time, all that talking, even though he spent most of it with a frown? How could he not feel something for the one who worked so hard and did so much for him when she didn’t have to, when he hadn’t wanted her to? He wants to make up for being difficult, but he doesn’t know how. She never asks him to.

He knows she’s been changed by everything she’s endured, just as everyone has been, but it’s not so obvious to him as his changes are to her.

Something like guilt twists and kicks when he realizes that, how he thought he knew her so well and now, a year later, he’s realized he barely knows anything. Or anything of substance, at least. She’d hidden much of herself from him, the same way he’d hidden much of himself from her, he was just too blind, too cocksure and conceited, to realize it. He vows to change that, though figuring out where to start is a bit of a stumbling block.

Thancred knows she has her bad days, too, and he works to notice them and help, just as she did for him. Gwen is more dejected and gray than him on her bad days, but he lets it all roll off him just as she let his bad attitude roll off her, and drags her out of bed.

When she smiles for him it looks...different than it used to, somehow. Warmer, calmer, like something had been teetering, balanced so precariously in her head, behind her eyes, and when Thancred is finally himself again it comes to rest, stable and secure.

As things get better, as Thancred becomes himself again, they settle into an easy and comfortable relationship that they put a modicum of effort into keeping secret. It’s closer and steadier and more assured than whatever they had before the banquet, before everything cracked and fell apart and they had to glue it all back together with some of the pieces missing.

It’s not too dissimilar at the basest elements, spending time together, talking, intimacy, but it’s malms above the casual, longterm fling they used to have.

They still trade quiet words, share their time, exchange little gestures and gifts, they confide and listen and understand, but there’s something more there now, too. Something with enough weight to stick around. Something that matters. They know one another better, have seen the harder, sharper sides, and they’re both still there. He likes this more, too. Though it comes with more responsibilities and more mutual trust that he has to work to be comfortable with.

And with all that comes... something else, something deeper that he shies away from every time it starts to swell in his chest, doing his best not to think about it too much.

Time passes. It always does. On the whole, days get easier. One step at a time, sometimes bigger steps, sometimes smaller, one day at a time, as Minfilia would have.

Thancred doesn’t say so aloud, sometimes worried whether or not all this progress, this return to normalcy for himself and the others, is really true, or if he’s just having a good few days. A good week. A good moon.

But he knows.

He finds his way back to being himself again.

-----------------------

:D....?

Yyyeaaahhhhhh.... Some IRL friends are going through some shite and I’m helping them deal with it, and it’s a lot, SO I TURNED IT INTO WRITING because I needed to make space in my head. TL;DR I feel better now.

I feel like both Thancred’s recovery after Lahabrea and how he copes after Bowl of Embers aren’t super covered? Maybe the latter a bit, judging by how he reacts to you if you walk to him between/during MSQ. I don’t remember well e_e haven’t played that part in a while.

Extra credit day weeeeee

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haikyuulovercompany · 6 years

Text

The Beauty & The Monster Pt. 1 Tendou x OC.

I’m so happy to know you were interested in read this old piece about Tendou and one of my OC’s !!!

So, here it goes!!!! I hope you like it <3 <3

---

If she had to describe their relationship with one word, it would probably be ‘empathy’: The capacity to identify with one another’s emotions, and mental state.

She was sure neither one of them was crazy. They seemedcrazy, but they weren’t. People would look at them and wonder. Oh, how much they wondered. They inquired all the time about what was going on under the surface. Some bet they were having it behind everyone’s back. Others clarified they were just good friends. The answer laid somewhere in between. They weren’t sleeping together, but man, it would be cynical to say there wasn’t any tension between the two.

They touched all the time. When they walked together he would sometimes drape his arms around her shoulders, or they would constantly bump against each other. The hall was large enough for them not to, yet they were always invading each other’s personal space. They sat so close together their legs would be pressed together. If they were talking, she wouldn’t be able to help herself from holding his forearm. She was aware of it all. All her friends assure her he was aware as well.

That’s why she had made a stupid bet. It was so obvious that they liked each other; no one understood why they weren’t a couple yet.

Everyone was expecting Shiratorizawa to win and go one more to nationals. And she truly meant everyone. In three whole years the volleyball team hadn’t lost one match—not even one match. It was insane. They were beyond good. They were extraordinary.

When she became part of the cheerleading team on her first year in high school, she could only imagine in dreams to cheer as much as she had to for those three years. There had been times she was left voiceless for how much she had shouted the chants game after game. Now they had to experience something new: the bitter taste of defeat. It was their last year in high school. The team wouldn’t be playing another game, nor she was going to cheer again.

It had been simple. Shiratorizawa never lost, it was a safe bet. She would confess to Tendou once they qualified once again for nationals, being too confident of the outcome of the match. They would go as the typical, cheesy, sporty couple. A star player and a cheerleader. What a cliché. She was up for it. She was so fucking ready.

Then, they lost. At the last minute, at the last set, they lost. Her heart sank. Satori might have been the light of her eyes, but she was close to the whole team to hurt for the others too. Watching Taichi and Lion cry was too much. She ended up shedding tears, too. Her dear Shiratorizawa, how could that be?

On their way back, they had to take separated busses. The whole mood they had brought at the start of the event dead and gone.

After a match the coach would let the cheerleaders ride the same bus as the volleyball team. They had always won, so it was some kind of price from his part. Satori and she had already arranged they would sit together like every single year. In her mind she would have already confessed by then, so they would be together, hand in hand filled with the ecstasy of qualifying for nationals once again.

She stared at the cold night through the window. The whole bus was dead silent. She zipped up her jacket to the top. She was still in her cheerleading uniform and the night had gotten noticeably colder.

“Are you okay?” her best friend asked.

She shook her head while she sighed. “Is any of us okay?” she quizzed, looking at Akane.

“Yours is a special case.”

Michiko gazed at the nothingness. Akane was one of the two persons who knew what she was going to do that day. “I had spent the last month imagining how this day would play off,” she inclined to the front, and rested her forehead on the front seat. “Believe me when I tell you it was the opposite of what is happening now.” She felt her back being stroked gently.

“I know, babe, I know.” Akane‘s voice was as low as hers.

Michiko turned her head to face her. “Is this a sign of destiny? Was this the way life told me to not do it?” She was feeling beyond hopeless and it showed. Her heart had been broken in more than one way that night.

Akane stopped stroking her back. “Bullshit. I think it still is the best you can do today.”

Michiko sat straight, her eyes full of skepticism. “Really?” she said sarcastically. “They lost. The only thing Satori surely wants right now is to go home and watch fucking anime. Not to be part of a romantic tragedy.”

Akane sighed tiredly. “Or it can be the best thing to make up for this whole situation. Maybe he lost the final, but he got the girl.” Michiko looked away from her, and to the ceiling. “You’d be a total liar if you say you’re not dying to be in his arms.” Michiko notably blushed, and covered her face with both hands making Akane giggle. “You know how people affirm Tendou and you are obviously sleeping together? If only they knew what an innocent and pure snowflake you are, they would stop. I believe Tendou might be a pervert, but you, you are a saint.”

“Stop it, Akane.” She quarreled her, and gave her a slap on the arm.

“Then do it, Michiko. Or at least give him a clue.” Akane grey-blue eyes went wide open, and she jolted on her place. She twisted her whole body towards her friend.

“Oh no,” Michiko gasped. “Now what do you want me to do?” she asked defeated. The person who had come up with the idea that the qualifiers final was the perfect occasion for her to confess was Akane. She was constantly plotting every one of her moves. It was her thing.

“I swear this is genius. You can totally pull it off,” she said excited.

“Spit it out.”

Akane squealed taking the attention of a couple people. Their team lost. What was she so animated about? “Say something obvious to him, and then, walk away. It’s okay if you don’t want to straightforward confess to him given the situation, but c’mon. It’s been two years. You need to let him know.”

Michiko gave it a short thinking. It didn’t sound all that crazy. “But what can I say?”

“I don’t know. You have your inside jokes or codes. How do I know what goes on with you pair of weirdos?”

“Our secret jokes are that, Akane. Jokes. There’s nothing romantic, or erotic, or whatever.”

“Okay, let’s think. We’ve still got time before we arrive to school.”

They both went to complete silence. Michiko couldn’t think of anything. She was nervous and depressed at the same time. She could have a panic attack at any given moment, and she would let herself suffocate to death due to the lack of energy in her.

“I know.” Akane said.

“That was fast.”

“Oh, Michiko, I’ve been rooting for you two to be together since last year. I’ll do anything for you to just get over it with.”

“Since last year?” Michiko asked amused.

“The year before that doesn’t count because you kept denying you were head over hills for him.”

“Well, what’s your new brilliant idea?”

“A kiss.” Akane declared provoking Michiko to choke on her own saliva.

“I’m not going to kiss him, what the fuck. That’s a blunter move than say I like him.”

“No, a kiss on the cheek. You two roam around each other like starving wolves, but I’m sure you have never gave him any kind of kiss.”

“Well, no. I haven’t.”

“Say something sweet like only you know how to, and give him a kiss on the cheek and walk away. If he doesn’t get the memo, maybe it will encourage him to go for you for once and for all.”

“If that works, you’re officially a medium.”

“I have seen the way you two look at each other like helpless lambs all through high school. I don’t need to be a medium to know it will work.”

“Let’s hope I can do it.”

“When you are near him you become a flirting machine. Both of you have a chemical reaction to the other. Without noticing you’ll say the perfect thing, and the current of the moment will lead you. And what’s the worst that can happen, anyway? Shiratorizawa just lost to a bunch of nobodies from an unknown school. That’s the ultimate all time low.”

And so there she was. She had unzipped her jacket since the school was a lot hotter than outside. Akane gave her blessing to her and went home. Michiko promised to call her right after to let her know every single detail.

Michiko had stayed for Satori. Not only for the whole confession thing, she also wanted to hug him and see how he was. Satori had only told her he would drop volleyball after high school, and she was sure Satori thought he had had more time. He was the god of reading people but he was completely unreadable.

After long twenty minutes of waiting, the doors of the gym opened and the volleyball team went out. Stoic faces adorned with sad eyes, and dried streams of tears were everywhere. None of them were surprise to see her. One by one hugged her. She gently clutch Semi’s forearms before hugging him and squeezed Goshiki in her arms a little bit tighter than the others.

“Next year is yours,” she told him. Goshiki nodded with a broken smile.

“Of course, Amai-senpai. I’ll do my best to make you proud,” he said, and went on his way with the rest of the team.

“Take care of things here,” Lion whispered to her after they hugged. With his head he signal to the back, where she was sure Satori was waiting for her.

The last one was Ushijima. They gave each other a simple hug, and without words he softly smiled at her and kept walking. He was the second person of the only two who knew what she was truly doing there.

Tendou was already siting on the floor with his back against the wall and his long legs stretched. She went up to him with a slow pace.

“Look who’s here,” he started saying without looking at her, “if not Shiratorizawa’s sweetheart, Amai Michiko.” He turned to see her then. His face had an unaffected expression, his usual half a smile and sleepy eyes were unchanged. She moved in front of him with his eyes following her, and knelt before him.

“I’m sorry you won’t get to do your pretty dances at nationals this year,” he said.

She gave a subtle, small laugh. “Like it matters.”

“It matters to me,” he said. “I like to see you dance.”

“You’re a cheeky bastard.” She felt shy, and crossed her arms over her stomach.

“Not only me. I promise you tons of people were waiting to see our cheerleading squad at nationals.”

“They’ll be left hanging, then,” she said in almost a whisper.

They stared at each other. It was a bittersweet moment. They had a bad taste from losing, but being close to one another always felt great. Satori knew her face by memory. She had waist-long hair in an intense chocolate brown shade and special hazel eyes—they were the type of hazel eyes, which were a lighter tone than the usual. “You could have been the cheerleading captain if you wanted, ya’ know?” he declared after observing her.

She scuffed. “Akane is gorgeous, and she is the most charismatic of us all. She was born a leader.”

“Mmm. I’d like to defer.” He trapped one of her locks in his hand, and gently played with it. “You are the sweetheart of this school for a reason, not her.”

She had to do it now. She could even just kiss him on the lips. Akane was right. They had a chemical reaction that pulled them together—like opposite magnets.

She just had to do it.

She looked down hiding her intentions and searching for the right words. “I’m especially happy to know you of all people think that of me.” She raised her gaze again and pressed a soft kiss on Tendou’s cheek. “Thank you, Satori. Good night.”

She quickly stood up and began to walk. She hadn’t seen his expression and hadn’t wait for him to say goodbye back to her. She had missed his stunned expression. She only knew he hadn’t gotten up and went after her. She was too focused on getting away from the school. She considered maybe she had been too vague, or maybe he wasn’t really that into her.

She had done what she could, and had been scolded by Akane when she called her on her way home to tell her. Maybe she could have been a tad clearer but what was done was done.

#tendo satori #shiratorizawa #The Beauty & The Monster #tendou x michiko #tendou x oc #michiko amai

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kae-karo · 6 years

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Hi I used to be into the phandom so much but fell out in like??? 2017??? Maybe??? Has anything big happened at all? Has anyone died/caught on fire ( ;) )??

oh dear god where do i begin??? well fortunately both our lads are still alive. let me just start with saying 2018 has been like. probably the best year for dnp to date? i’ll try to go in some kind of order here but bear with me i’ll touch on a bit of 2017 stuff and then go into 2018 for ya

so first of all i’m not sure when you left the phandom in 2017 but the lads moved out of their previous flat in april of last year (x) (april-ish it was def before they posted the vid)

also our dear lil dani snot on fire is no longer not on fire (x) so uhh is he on fire now ig? i mean yeah that’s arguably true

*insert phil’s badaladala sound bc on the scale of Significant Things i don’t think anything else massive happened*

day one of demon month, we got this amazing vid from phil wherein viewers (aka dan) picked his outfits n he looked like a snacc and a half (would’ve been 2 snaccs if he’d embraced the quiff sooner but that’s getting ahead of things) (x)

!!!! then a week or so later dan posted his vid ‘daniel and depression’ where he opened up abt his struggle with depression (x) which was imo the start of him just being more open about himself in general. he also started working with young minds (a mental health org for young people in the uk) and shortly thereafter with prince william’s program to help prevent cyberbullying

then! on the day love was invented! dnp released their board game, truth bombs (x - yeah i linked the second vid and not the first, and wot) which u can buy if you’d like but it’s a lot of fun (x)

then these idiots did a conjoined jumper baking challenge and didn’t fucking wear shirts under the jumper like what dumb gays idk (x) but it was real funny and Good Content

then early nov dnp announced the interactive introverts tour (x) and then uhhh it happened (like 80+ shows??? in a ton of countries???) (x) and they’re releasing the filming of it along with some bonus content like a director’s commentary and u can preorder it (x)

also pinof 9 happened which as a legacy phan u know is always a Thing but this year it was especially a Thing so i recommend catching up (x, and the bloops - x)

and phew okay that’s the majority of 2017 Important Events but before i go on to 2018 i’ll just recap a few important events from dapg (basically just some gamingmas stuff):

wherein dan smacked phil in the face

and phil crushed the presents but dan helped him up

where phil pretended not to remember gamingmas was happening, leading to the most iconic simultaneous heart eyes howell/love eyes lester to date

dnp singing baby it’s cold outside together whilst playing yasuhati

iconic pinof 9 moment

dnp play charades but it’s phil’s turn, and he’s touchy

the not my arms challenge!!! playing mario kart

okay! and before anyone starts yelling i know there’s more but god if i put every iconic thing in this post would break there’s Too Much so let’s hop into 2018 bc it’s gonna be a long one

first i cannot believe dan fucking gave phil a philussy cake and phil’s parents asked phil what it meant jfc dan (x)

THE EARRING!!! dan’s first selfie with the lil hoop and it never leaves and we love it (x)

phil is just trying to take a selfie and dan ruins it (x) spoiler alert: phil gets him back in colorado (x)

okay big sigh two large events happen in march: the first, dan’s ‘trying to live my truth’ vid (x) it basically dan saying ‘i’m still figuring things out but i want to be more authentic and true to myself, and also authenticity is important for some people to feel happy in life’ vid that a lot of people hyperfixated on the end line of, where he said he would go ‘laugh at a joke with a chocolate bar and...something else in my mouth’ which people assumed meant a dick and therefore it was a subtle coming out vid, dan did a liveshow afterward (x) wherein he said that wasn’t the point of the vid and people got mad at him for ‘backtracking’ (if u want more of my Opinions on this feel free to check em out - x)

the second v v big event happened at the end of march when phil posted this iconic selfie that would be the downfall of the fringe (x) this has been titled the quiffening by some

shortly after that he began styling his hair in a quiff permanently which was probably the best decision he’s made since responding to one of his obsessed fans back in 2009

quick detour dan’s proud of his hubby (x) for winning fortnite and ‘fuxkung’ is now what ‘fucking’ autocorrects to in my phone

we also had dan releasing his merch (x) which is basically all black and themed around the eclipse logo and ‘don’t talk to me’, though he just released the exist line for world mental health day which has his quote ‘have the courage to exist’. he’s also mentioned possibly wanting to do more creative things like wide-necked or asymmetrical shirts dan just do a fashion line pls oh and he mentioned in a recent ls he might do an internet support group mug sometime soon

and then,,,,,pigeonfest. we watched. five hours. of phil livestreaming their patio. and literally nothing happened bc someone was like down on the street feeding pigeons so there weren’t even any pigeons for like 90% of the liveshow. but he literally didn’t talk it was just five hours of their patio and we all watched it. we all just watched it like the whipped phannies we are (x)

and then we got a brief but overwhelming dose of,,,,,,something from the easter baking vid (x) phil was hopped up on sugar and also confidence from his quiff and probably smth else as well

everything just blows up from there we have giving the people what they want (x) where, in preparation for ii (for which the underlying theme was ‘giving people what they want’), dnp reacted to pinof 1, swapped clothes, did the ‘yoga challenge’, recreated ditl manchester, ‘got a dog’, and made phil say fuck. honestly it shook the entire phandom to its core at the time but like. i’m less shooketh now? it’s sort of just fallen by the wayside in terms of how unpredictable dnp have been this year

then phil drops week in the life of dnp shortly thereafter which is just very very domestic even for them and their ditl style vids??? (x) phil filming dan in bed being one of the big demon highlights at the time

it’s right around this time too that insta stories start and my god it just goes jfc like i don’t even have the mental capacity to recall all the Iconic ones but i recommend checking out this playlist (x) which has all the ii tour stories goddamn there were a lot though they really put out that content didn’t they

in early may we get phil talking about why he changed his emo hair (x) and arguably the first official vid of the casual rebrand - phil’s more open and genuinely vulnerable about his fears about making a change to his hair, and i don’t think we’ve ever seen him that open before. the vids don’t stop being open though, with what dnp text each other (x) giving us coop and doop along with other iconic stories, dnp basically sitting on top of each other in that and other gaming vids on the tour bus, phil being very open abt his attraction to men (x) and the iconic final google feud vid with way too much of a specific kind of Energy (x) (ofc again there are More Vids but i don’t have the time/mental capacity to recap them all so i’m pickin the Big Ones)

monochrome mates (x)

phew okay so the tour in general as well - like if u don’t mind spoilers, i did a big ol analysis of what that was all about (x) but one of many many highlights is dan calling he and phil “best friends and soulmates”

finally finally finally after months of waiting we also get some phil merch! (x) plant and animal themed, and he even released a lion plushie which sold out like instantly and he claimed he’d do more of but we have yet to see that. he says he’s got more ideas for other merch as well

now okay fast forward to october after the tour’s over bc i think the insta stories and the analysis cover it but then. then. then we get the pizza mukbang (x) thirty three minutes of dnp being more open and honest and casual than literally they’ve ever been on camera maybe ever, and i’m including liveshows in this statement. no holds barred, authentic vulnerable dnp. a religious experience

end of october spooky week hits us and i think the key vid to call out here is the creepy mind of phil lester bc i think it was another open honest authentic vid (x) where they talked a lot, casual domestic w.e got some insight into phil’s mind it was v good

and then they carve pumpkins jfc which was an experience (x) there were a lot of innuendos but also one of the first years they didn’t do a halloween baking in a while (though they have hinted at possibly doing christmas baking) idk i’m fully overwhelmed at this point lmao like a Lot happened this year

phew okay and Then just yesterday philly dropped his vid on why he went to (the) hospital (x) idk soz that’s a british thing i think like we say ‘the’ anyway. which i’ve been talking abt quite a lot lately but it was another very open and honest vid in which he expressed a lot of vulnerability and fear and perceived flaws and it was just a quality like. open vid.

jfc okay hope that helps obviously there’s a lot i didn’t mention, but this should at least get you caught up on some of the big stuff!! and while i’m at it have a few more Important Gifs from this year

a very important moment of communication whilst on tour, deciding whether or not they’re okay with doing a ‘third wheel’ pose

dan flinging himself off the chair in anger whilst playing getting over it

nose boop from phil’s instagram explore pages vid

subsequent nose boop from the extreme tetris vid

and a cheek boop from the overcooked 2 vid

dan pulling phil’s hand off the mouse in fear during spooky week, swamp simulator (shrek slender)

touchy!dan during pizza mukbang

oh god. okay. again, this is not everything, just a big list of some big events over the past year-ish. i’m sure i’ve missed some important stuff but i think i covered most of it! hope this helps ya get caught up dear!

#dnp #so dan and phil in 2018 eh #what's that about #phan #dip and pip #kt #anon #ask

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artofdigression · 6 years

Text

I’m 23 years old. The 2 years leading up to now have been a complete whirlwind, but somehow, in this time, an actual music career has begun. I’m a composer, a producer, a singer, a songwriter, a visual artist - among many labels.

I sit in front of my piano. I know how to play all of 2 pieces - Gnossiennes 1 & 2 by Erik Satie. I learned them by ear 4 years ago while working the reception desk of an art gallery that had two baby grand pianos hidden underneath the stairs. I would get bored when no one else was in the gallery and venture down.

In my studio, I have piles of introductory music books, minuets and ballads laying around - some given to me at a young age, some passed down by dead relatives who knew I had a ‘good ear’ - or were maybe too dead to give a shit about where their old sheet music went by the time I got my hands on it.

I decide, for what feels like the 100th time, that I will learn how to read music.

I had my first piano lesson when I was 10 years old. My piano teacher was nice - a young, lanky, 20-something music student who wore beanie hats and played electric guitar in a rock band. I thought he was pretty much the coolest and wanted to be him. Unfortunately, I don’t think he was particularly ‘stoked’ in the same capacity to work with me. I had very little enthusiasm for any of the mind-numbingly boring rudimentary theory curriculum, the limited repertoire I had to choose from (away in a manger or… the other version of away in a manger) made me want to rip my hair out, and reading sheet music would send my mind into kaleidoscope-vision.

I would also have kaleidoscope-vision in school. I struggled with school. I was a rambunctious little human. My attention span was uncontrollable (unless we were reading or drawing, then I absolutely paid attention). Looking over old report cards, there was a lot of ‘needs to stay on task’ and ‘could use help with organization’ - anecdotal pieces of advice I heard so much, I think the meanings eventually became hollow to me (or maybe the meanings were just hollow to begin with).

Getting me to sit still for 30 minutes was an excruciating feat for any adult in my life, so 2 hours? 3 hours? 6 hours? Good god, I wanted to climb the walls. When the teacher would start talking, I would look past their gaze - into Lala Land as adults disdainfully called it. (I still deeply hate calling it Lala Land, but, for continuity purposes, we’re going to reclaim the name in neon lights.)

Lala Land was great. Real life? Not so much. In real life, from third grade until high school graduation, my teachers (with the exception of 3 gems) were blatantly judgemental of me. They’d think nothing of admonishing me in front of my peers if I fidgeted or looked out a window.

Because the amount of physical energy I had was not conducive to a classroom environment, I learned to dissociate from my body. Because looking out a window meant I was not looking at a chalkboard, I learned to look past the chalkboard to find Lala Land, its neon letters burning behind my absent gaze. Past the letters, there would be a window. I could look out the window and its glass panes could evaporate and autumn’s leafy gusts of wind could sweep me away and I’d never have to worry about a messy desk or a missed assignment or classroom of judgemental eyes looking at me again. The next day’s fantasy would be the same, but different.

Children’s imaginations are often playful and fantastical. Take a kid with a traumatized brain, however - and imagination can give them a seemingly supernatural ability to create, in their mind, what they need for emotional survival. That was me.

There were parts of my childhood that were truly blissful, gorgeous, hilarious and nurturing. But I’d be denying you, dear reader, important context if I didn’t tell you that a significant part of my young formative years was steeped in grief, chaos and abandonment. I assure you need not build castles in the air in understanding that I was a child with a traumatized brain. And though I was surviving, trauma had created a faceless, nameless internal chaos for me that I didn’t truly even recognize until adulthood. Trauma changes the way brains function. That’s a lot for a kid to be dealing with.

In piano lessons, my teacher would sit with me and we would go over the theory of a piece of sheet music - that was my brain’s cue to look past the kaleidoscope paper, nodding “yes, mhm, got it.” But then, when he’d clap the rhythm of the piece, my brain would engage and I’d clap the same rhythm back, no problem. After that, he would play the piece for me as an example - this was where my brain would hyper-focus. I would retain, retain, retain, and I would play the piece back, not reading a note, but looking past the page all the same. This wasn’t a ploy to dupe him. This was a system of which neither of us were consciously aware. I was just 10, and playing piano.

Outside of school, I was different. I was encouraged to sing, I would go to my parents’ choir practices every week and sit in the pews of Saint Mary’s Church and listen to 30 voices reverberate through it. I would shoot the shit with adults and carry around books about Roman mythology and Egyptian hieroglyphs and I would talk about how I wanted to travel the whole world and I would make 1-page comics and I would dress up my dog and I loved the ballet costumes from Stravinsky’s Firebird and… I digress.

Outside of school, I was different. Music calmed my internal landscape enough for me to be myself. No - actually, music calmed my immediate surroundings enough for me to make sense of my internal landscape… Actually, both.

On a borrowed piano, I would sit and endlessly ear out songs (Carmen, movie soundtracks I liked, songs my mom sang, etc). I would walk into my Saturday lesson and proudly showcase the self-taught triumphs of Sunday through Friday for my teacher, only to be met with a brief pat on the back and the god-damn sheet music to 'away in a manger’ - which I still hated and still couldn’t read, but played anyway. After 5 months, I eventually made it clear to all parties involved that I was done with piano, and my parents finally gave into my weekly protests.

When I was 7th grade, I started playing french horn in the school band and, for whatever reason, continued for 6 and a half years. I still saw through a kaleidoscope when I got a piece of music, but there was one other french horn player in my class so I usually copied what she did - Unless we had different parts in which case I fumbled constantly through band practice until I finally figured out what I was playing. Band, generally, had a negative impact on my relationship with music. I think the only reason I stuck with it was because the feeling of playing music with such a large group of people triggered some kind of dopamine rush that my brain loved. I would get ASMR - auto sensory meridian response - also known as “that fuzzy, warm, calm feeling in the centre of your brain” - some folks experience it and some folks don’t.

A lot of changes in my home life happened in that 6-and-a-half-year period. After years of week-on, week-off pivots between my mother and father’s separate homes, my father permanently moved to Sweden when I was 13. My mother became my primary parent while dealing with the loaded blows of bankruptcy and multiple reckonings around her own life challenges. We moved into a home that had completely gutted walls and plywood floors (left unfinished by previous tenants with renovation goals too ambitious to finish). The situation was chaotic. So, so chaotic. But, from that time up to now, my mother was (and continues to be) an incredible support to me. She could see that I was struggling, and did everything in her power to advocate for me when I couldn’t advocate for myself. I can only imagine the feeling of knowing something is not right with your child and being told by everyone around you that your child is fine. Her support was integral.

When I was in 9th grade, she and my homeroom teacher (also a phenomenal support to me at the time) pulled some strings to have an initial psychological assessment performed on me - not technically “official” - as it was conducted by a student of psychology, I recall - nevertheless, it provided enough insight to validate that there was an underlying dissonance between what most of my teachers were saying about me (lazy, bad attitude, etc) and what was actually going on in my head, and that a formal assessment would be necessary to help me. My name was put on the waiting list for a psychologist that year. But, the entire island had only 1 or 2 psychologists available (Totally appalling). And so I waited... And waited... And waited... And while I waited, I continued to find refuge in my visual art practice, as well as learning other instruments on my own terms.

I refuse to say something cliche like “art and music saved my life” because creativity isn’t a sustainable singular lifeline for anyone, and believing so feeds into the highly problematic mental health stigma as it pertains to those who create for a living... But art and music did play key roles in tempering my inner storms. Now, as a musician, I allow my craft to be a teacher, not a therapist.

When I was 16, I went to my first voice lesson. I kept at it for a year, and… excelled? I totally excelled - personally and musically. This did wonders for my confidence (I attribute a lot of that to my voice teacher at the time, who had a really supportive and receptive approach to my weird energy levels and the idiosyncratic ways I learned). I did festivals, took a Royal Conservatory exam - and I was still excelling, which honestly shocked me at the time because I was so used to failing everything.

Oh, also, I could still barely read the music. Kaleidoscopic forever.

Many classically trained musicians describe the experience of being overwhelmed when they get a new piece of music (especially if it has theory components they may not be familiar with or something) - totally normal. But then, they concentrate, deconstruct it from the page section-by-section and eventually learn to play it with neurotypical grace. Deconstructing written music on the page to understand what was happening became a little bit less nauseating as I was exposed to it more. I WORKED at theory and understood parts of it, but only… theoretically. Being able to transcribe that (limited) understanding into playing? That never happened for me. The page would remain kaleidoscopic until it felt like my brain was just going to short-circuit and cave in on itself. It was weird, and trying to describe to anyone in band class (teachers and students alike) made me feel like I was on a different planet. So, when the heat was on (whether that was in performance or in private lessons or “sight singing”) I kept relying on my ears and refined my ability to hold my own in band concerts, private voice lessons, choirs, musical theatre productions.

Meanwhile, in high school, my academic life was still basically the worst. I had adversarial relationships with nearly all of my teachers. I barely passed each year. Emotionally, I also had a lot of anger seething below the surface of my consciousness. I had internalized so much of what so many teachers had told me - that I was smart but lazy, that I had a bad attitude, that I was disruptive, distracted, manipulative etc. - and having gone through some pretty drastic events that effectively destabilized my home life, this all had a profoundly negative impact on my self-worth.

One year later, I was 17, in 12th grade and school issues had not gotten any better (still muddling through - grades between 40% and 60%). I had just given up at this point… Except now, instead of having the teachers before, who were mostly unhelpful, but at least straight-up about being judgemental of me based on my “laziness” diagnosis, I had a haul of teachers that were giving me these new weekly out-in-the-hall John Keating-wannabe-motivational speeches, telling me how much “potential I have” and how “I’m wasting it away” by “not trying” in class (every hollow pull-up-your-socks/nose-to-grindstone idiom in the book. It was infuriating at the time). I’m sure most of them just wanted to help. But I needed someone to listen more than I needed someone to talk at me.

A helpful thing that DID come out of 12th grade (4 years after my name had been put on the list… shoutout to our provincial government for still not caring about investing in public mental health) was that I finally got access to a provincial psychologist. She came during the second semester of grade 12 and did extensive testing on me to find (surprise! but… not really) ADHD - which explained the colossal difficulties I was having in my academic life due to my chaotic brain not letting me get my shit together in the ways I was being told by neurotypical folks around me to get my shit together.

For those that aren’t informed about ADHD - it’s a form of neurodivergence that can manifest in too many ways to name here, but to fit an elephant in a minivan: There’s that part of the brain that naturally helps you regulate your attention/concentration/sleep/energy levels/appetite/feelings/working memory/pretty much anything remotely involving executive functioning… That’s nice, right? I wouldn’t know because apparently mine’s broken. There is also extensive research that directly links ADHD to childhood trauma, as well as biochemical imbalances in the brain.

I could get all in-depth about ADHD science right here, but this is my story, not an essay, and it would make for an even longer and more digressive tangent that would likely overshadow THE OTHER SIGNIFICANT THING the psychologist noted in my evaluation.

Amidst a bunch of my brain skills that were, statistically, above average for my age - like my working vocabulary and ability to retain auditory information - many of my visual processing skills - meaning, things like reading something and copying it down accurately or following written instructions without constantly needing to reference them - were shockingly below average for my age. The tests showed that this was something my brain had immense difficulty doing.

What’s an example of a visual processing issue in school? Well, I was always the last kid to finish copying text from the board (and I mean, like, multiple paragraphs behind my peers) before the teacher could move on to the next page.

What’s an example of a visual processing issue in music? Reading written notes and playing them on an instrument. When I heard a piece of music, however, I could learn it very quickly.

Knowing what was going on in my brain brought me a whole world of clarity and validation. I knew that I was going to lead an unconventional life because of it (whatever “a conventional life” means these days). I knew that most post-secondary education would be inaccessible to me as a result of my grades and probably be, at that point, more harmful than helpful.

Knowing what was going on in my brain helped me to understand what I didn’t need anymore. I didn’t need the validation of my teachers or my peers. I didn’t need a number on any piece of paper to determine my competence or ‘work ethic.’

Letting go of school was the best thing I’ve done for myself.

I graduated high school with nothing but a 64% average, and an ADHD diagnosis as my only tools in understanding how to get on a path to thriving as an adult human. liberating. frustrating. terrifying - but not really. mostly liberating.

Then, my ADHD became manageable and my life got easy and I had no self-esteem issues ever again.

… No. That’s not how life works. I’m 23 years old. I’ve been out of the school system for 6 years. I have deeply instilled productivity guilt (ie. I take on way more tasks than humanly possible to finish in ridiculously tight deadlines), I struggle with anxiety in thinking that friends and coworkers are saying negative things about my personality or quality of work behind my back (maybe my exes and high school math teachers are hanging out?? THE HORROR), my heart sinks into my stomach anytime any human watches me work over my shoulder (I’m a music producer, so if I’m working on songs with people, I become a blundering internal wreck when they understandably want to see what I’m editing). School did those things to me - which leads me into the accountability part of this long-winded ADHD realtalk.

I’d be withholding the truth from you if I didn’t say my teachers played key roles in aggravating my behavioural/emotional/learning difficulties by disputing them as personality flaws. My frustration in learning would be met, at worst, with punishment and put-downs (I remember not having recess for nearly an entire week somewhere in the first half of 4th grade - which I think is a cruel thing to do to any child, let alone one with energy levels like mine). I would be met, at best, with more hollow, invalidating advice - more ‘need to stay on task’ with a twist of ‘gotta give it yer all’ and ‘well, maybe if you actually tried…’

None of these messages sent to me were helpful. I’m still working to unravel those knots.

This is not a dig at those teachers who saw me as the problem child (rather than seeing me as a kid who just needed support and a different work environment. There were about 3 teachers in 10 years who understood that, and did everything in their power to help. They know who they are and I’m grateful for them.) I understand how frustrating it is to be pushed to your limit - especially within the bounds of a job that requires you to keep your shit together in some capacity. I understand that we that we all do our best with the tools we have at the time. There are no hard feelings - But, I encourage self-reflection and future accountability for your impact on the way you treat any child in your life - because they are just that: a child. Your impact can be profoundly helpful or harmful. You will never know what a child is going through until they feel safe enough to tell you. I didn’t feel safe with many adults - which is why most of my relationships with authority were adversarial ones. I’m not offering a solution. I’m just offering a glimpse into my experience. That’s all this is. Take it or leave it.

When a child is told again and again by the daily authoritative figures in their life that they have an attitude problem, that they are disruptive, lazy, manipulative, attention-seeking, a liar, a cheater (the list can go on but I won’t let it) - I guarantee you, the child will eventually believe it. And I did. I deeply internalized these labels to the point of identifying with them. I’m still working hard as an adult to remind myself that while many of my teachers accused me of causing chaos in my learning environment, I was simply (and unknowingly) mirroring my own internal chaos. The chaos I had created around me was a cry for help, not admonishment.

To further the accountability segment of this experience I’m sharing with you, though I can’t offer a solution to “fix” the institution of public education (because institutions generally don’t function unless they’re flawed to begin with), I think a set of solutions may lie somewhere within trauma-informed and neurodivergence-informed teaching and the public school system being provided with the adequate resources to embrace neurodivergent students - to embrace traumatized students, not accommodate them. I think a set of solutions may lie somewhere within mental health being taken seriously (with FUNDING, not lip service) by the Government of Prince Edward Island. That’s all I’ll say for now.

I don’t think my experience is special - far from it. In fact, I know that my experience is not, and never will be one-of-a-kind. I started writing this when I sat in front of a piano and tried to do what my brain would never let me do. I looked past the page and saw this part of my life staring back at me. I’m not even a writer, but I felt like I had to write it down. Looking back, I realize that I didn’t even begin to understand my own story until someone else told me theirs.

So - whether you’re a teacher or a student or both - if you’re struggling in the school system, this is dedicated to you. If you have been turned away and invalidated by those supposed to help you, you need to know that the labels placed upon you only hold as much power over you as you allow. Being pained by what you can’t control doesn’t make you weak, it makes you a survivor. Surviving is hard. Surviving is so hard, but you will begin to heal.

I’m 23 years old. I’m many things. I read music with my ears. I’m mastering the art of looking past what’s in front of me.

- Russell Louder

#adhd #music #neurodivergence

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garywonghc · 7 years

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Loosening the Knots of Anger Through Mindfulness Practice

by Thich Nhat Hanh

To be happy, to me, is to suffer less. If we were not capable of transforming the pain within ourselves, happiness would not be possible.

Many people look for happiness outside themselves, but true happiness must come from inside of us. Our culture tells us that happiness comes from having a lot of money, a lot of power and a high position in society. But if you observe carefully, you will see that many rich and famous people are not happy. Many of them commit suicide.

The Buddha and the monks and nuns of his time did not own anything except their three robes and one bowl. But they were very happy, because they had something extremely precious: freedom.

According to the Buddha’s teachings, the most basic condition for happiness is freedom. Here we do not mean political freedom, but freedom from the mental formations of anger, despair, jealousy and delusion. These mental formations are described by the Buddha as poisons. As long as these poisons are still in our heart, happiness cannot be possible.

In order to be free from anger, we have to practice, whether we are Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu or Jewish. We cannot ask the Buddha, Jesus, God or Mohammed to take anger out of our hearts for us. There are concrete instructions on how to transform the craving, anger and confusion within us. If we follow these instructions and learn to take good care of our suffering, we can help others do the same.

THE KNOTS OF ANGER

In our consciousness there are blocks of pain, anger and frustration called internal formations. They are also called knots because they tie us up and obstruct our freedom.

When someone insults us or does something unkind to us, an internal formation is created in our consciousness. If you don’t know how to undo the internal knot and transform it, the knot will stay there for a long time. And the next time someone says something or does something to you of the same nature, that internal formation will grow stronger. As knots or blocks of pain in us, our internal formations have the power to push us, to dictate our behaviour.

After a while, it becomes very difficult for us to transform, to undo the knots, and we cannot ease the constriction of this crystallised formation. The Sanskrit word for internal formation is samyojana. It means “to crystallise.” Every one of us has internal formations that we need to take care of. With the practice of meditation we can undo these knots and experience transformation and healing.

Not all internal formations are unpleasant. There are also pleasant internal formations, but they can still make us suffer. When you taste, hear or see something pleasant, then that pleasure can become a strong internal knot. When the object of your pleasure disappears, you miss it and you begin searching for it. You spend a lot of time and energy trying to experience it again. If you smoke marijuana or drink alcohol and begin to like it, then it becomes an internal formation in your body and in your mind. You cannot get it off your mind. You will always look for more. The strength of the internal knot is pushing you and controlling you. So internal formations deprive us of our freedom.

Falling in love is a big internal formation. Once you are in love, you only think of the other person. You are not free anymore. You cannot do anything; you cannot study, you cannot work, you cannot enjoy the sunshine or the beauty of nature around you. You can only think of the object of your love. That is why we speak about it as a kind of accident: “falling in love.” You fall down. You are not stable anymore because you have gotten into an accident. So love can also be an internal knot.

Pleasant or unpleasant, both kinds of knots take away our liberty. That is why we should guard our body and our mind very carefully, to prevent these knots from taking root in us. Drugs, alcohol and tobacco can create internal formations in our body. And anger, craving, jealousy, despair can create internal formations in our mind.

TRAINING IN AGGRESSION

Anger is an internal formation, and since it makes us suffer, we try our best to get rid of it. Psychologists like the expression, “getting it out of your system.” And they speak about venting anger, like ventilating a room filled with smoke. Some psychologists say that when the energy of anger arises in you, you should ventilate it by hitting a pillow, kicking something, or by going into the forest to yell and shout.

As a kid you were not supposed to say certain swear words. Your parents may not have allowed you to say these words because they are harmful, they damage relationships. So you went into the woods or to an isolated place and shouted these words very clearly, very strongly, in order to relieve the feeling of oppression. This is also venting.

People who use venting techniques like hitting a pillow or shouting are actually rehearsing anger. When someone is angry and vents their anger by hitting a pillow, they are learning a dangerous habit. They are training in aggression. Instead, our approach is to generate the energy of mindfulness and embrace anger every time it manifests.

TREATING ANGER WITH TENDERNESS

Mindfulness does not fight anger or despair. Mindfulness is there in order to recognise. To be mindful of something is to recognise that something is there in the present moment. Mindfulness is the capacity of being aware of what is going on in the present moment. “Breathing in, I know that anger has manifested in me; breathing out, I smile towards my anger.” This is not an act of suppression or of fighting. It is an act of recognising. Once we recognise our anger, we embrace it with a lot of awareness, a lot of tenderness.

When it is cold in your room, you turn on the heater, and the heater begins to send out waves of hot air. The cold air doesn’t have to leave the room for the room to become warm. The cold air is embraced by the hot air and becomes warm — there’s no fighting at all between them.

We practice taking care of our anger in the same way. Mindfulness recognises anger, is aware of its presence, accepts and allows it to be there. Mindfulness is like a big brother who does not suppress his younger brother’s suffering. He simply says, “Dear brother, I’m here for you.” You take your younger brother in your arms and you comfort him. This is exactly our practice.

Imagine a mother getting angry with her baby and hitting him when he cries. That mother does not know that she and her baby are one. We are mothers of our anger and we have to help our baby, our anger, not fight and destroy it. Our anger is us and our compassion is also us. To meditate does not mean to fight. In Buddhism, the practice of meditation should be the practice of embracing and transforming, not of fighting.

USING ANGER, USING SUFFERING

To grow the tree of enlightenment, we must make good use of our afflictions, our suffering. It is like growing lotus flowers; we cannot grow a lotus on marble. We cannot grow a lotus without mud.

Practitioners of meditation do not discriminate against or reject their internal formations. We do not transform ourselves into a battle field, good fighting evil. We treat our afflictions, our anger, our jealousy with a lot of tenderness. When anger comes up in us, we should begin to practice mindful breathing right away: “Breathing in, I know that anger is in me. Breathing out, I am taking good care of my anger.” We behave exactly like a mother: “Breathing in, I know that my child is crying. Breathing out, I will take good care of my child.” This is the practice of compassion.

If you don’t know how to treat yourself with compassion, how can you treat another person with compassion? When anger arises, continue to practice mindful breathing and mindful walking to generate the energy of mindfulness. Continue to embrace tenderly the energy of anger within you. Anger may continue to be there for sometime, but you are safe, because the Buddha is in you, helping you to take good care of your anger. The energy of mindfulness is the energy of the Buddha. When you practice mindful breathing and embrace your anger, you are under the protection of the Buddha. There is no doubt about it: the Buddha is embracing you and your anger with a lot of compassion.

GIVING AND RECEIVING MINDFULNESS ENERGY

When you are angry, when you feel despair, you practice mindful breathing, mindful walking, to generate the energy of mindfulness. This energy allows you to recognize and embrace your painful feelings. And if your mindfulness is not strong enough, you ask a brother or a sister in the practice to sit close to you, to breathe with you, to walk with you in order to support you with his or her mindfulness energy.

Practicing mindfulness does not mean that you have to do everything on your own. You can practice with the support of your friends. They can generate enough mindfulness energy to help you take care of your strong emotions.

We can also support others with our mindfulness when they are in difficulty. When our child is drowning in a strong emotion, we can hold his or her hand and say, “My dear one, breathe. Breathe in and out with mommy, with daddy.” We can also invite our child to do walking meditation with us, gently taking her hand and helping her calm down, with each step. When you give your child some of your mindfulness energy, she will be able to calm down very quickly and embrace her emotions.

RECOGNISING, EMBRACING, RELIEVING THE SUFFERING OF ANGER

The first function of mindfulness is to recognise, not to fight. “Breathing in, I know that anger has manifested in me. Hello, my little anger.” And breathing out, “I will take good care of you.”

Once we have recognised our anger, we embrace it. This is the second function of mindfulness and it is a very pleasant practice. Instead of fighting, we are taking good care of our emotion. If you know how to embrace your anger, something will change.

It is like cooking potatoes. You cover the pot and then the water will begin to boil. You must keep the stove on for at least twenty minutes for the potatoes to cook. Your anger is a kind of potato and you cannot eat a raw potato.

Mindfulness is like the fire cooking the potatoes of anger. The first few minutes of recognising and embracing your anger with tenderness can bring results. You get some relief. Anger is still there, but you do not suffer so much anymore, because you know how to take care of your baby. So the third function of mindfulness is soothing, relieving. Anger is there, but it is being taken care of. The situation is no longer in chaos, with the crying baby left all alone. The mother is there to take care of the baby and the situation is under control.

KEEPING MINDFULNESS ALIVE

And who is this mother? The mother is the living Buddha. The capacity of being mindful, the capacity of being understanding, loving and caring is the Buddha in us. Every time we are capable of generating mindfulness, it makes the Buddha in us a reality. With the Buddha in you, you have nothing to worry about anymore. Everything will be fine if you know how to keep the Buddha within you alive.

It is important to recognise that we always have the Buddha in us. Even if we are angry, unkind or in despair, the Buddha is always within us. This means we always have the potential to be mindful, to be understanding, to be loving.

We need to practice mindful breathing or walking in order to touch the Buddha within us. When you touch the seed of mindfulness that lies in your consciousness, the Buddha will manifest in your mind consciousness and embrace your anger. You don’t have to worry; just continue to practice breathing or walking to keep the Buddha alive. Then everything will be fine. The Buddha recognises. The Buddha embraces. The Buddha relieves, and the Buddha looks deeply into the nature of anger. The Buddha understands. And this understanding will bring about transformation.

The energy of mindfulness contains the energy of concentration, as well as the energy of insight. Concentration helps you to focus on just one thing. With concentration, the energy of looking becomes more powerful.

Because of that it can make a breakthrough that is insight. Insight always has the power of liberating you. If mindfulness is there, and you know how to keep mindfulness alive, concentration will be there too. And if you know how to keep concentration alive, insight will also come. So mindfulness recognises, embraces and relieves. Mindfulness helps us look deeply in order to gain insight. Insight is the liberating factor. It is what frees us and allows transformation to happen. This is the Buddhist practice of taking care of anger.

Every time you give your internal formations a bath of mindfulness, the blocks of pain in you become lighter and less dangerous. So give your anger, your despair, your sorrow a bath of mindfulness every day — that is your practice. If mindfulness is not there, it is very unpleasant to have these seeds come up. But if you know how to generate the energy of mindfulness, it is very healing to invite them up every day and embrace them. And after several days or weeks of bringing them up daily and helping them go back down again, you create good circulation in your psyche, and the symptoms of mental illness will begin to disappear.

Mindfulness does the work of massaging your internal formations, your blocks of suffering. You have to allow them to circulate, and this is possible only if you are not afraid of them. If you learn not to fear your knots of suffering, you can learn how to embrace them with the energy of mindfulness, and transform them.

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momquote · 4 years

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Seven Reasons Abstinence Is a Good Idea - A Fasting Primer

Some do it for detoxification while others for otherworldly edification. Whatever your explanation, it's a decent one to quick for a modest quantity of time. Jesus Christ abstained for 40 days and 40 evenings. That is a tiny bit extraordinary yet on the other hand, he was the child of God. Everything religions do it eventually. The Native Americans would quick to help advert awful spirits. The savants and masterminds of old including the incomparable Hippocrates, Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle all included fasting as a component of their mending system. Early strict or profound gatherings utilized fasting as a feature of services and customs typically around the difference in the seasons. They trusted it expanded otherworldly capacities. Christians may in any case utilize fasting as a feature of atonement, cleansing, or grieving.

The act of fasting, or swear off strong food returns millennia and has for quite some time been perceived as an essential piece of the human body's mending cycle. At the point when you quick, you give your body a truly necessary rest from assimilation. The strategy for assimilation requires a lot of energy; consequently, why the majority of us are drained after a major lunch. The entirety of the body's frameworks, from the circulatory to the endocrine buckle down and have a significant impact in assimilation. This holds particularly evident if what we just ate isn't the best. Our liver, gallbladder, and pancreas stay at work past 40 hours preparing harmful fats and synthetics. Eating overall truly takes it out the body. It's difficult to ingrain in our psyches that once we swallow it's not finished. The genuine work starts requiring some genuine energy. It is assessed that up to 65% of your body's energy is expected to process after a huge dinner. It's no big surprise that in the event that we remove this hard work it opens up the body to consume its energy on other significant things, such as getting out the excess extras. On the off chance that you don't have a clue about this, it can require days for your body to dispense with the steak and potato supper you had a few evenings ago. Furthermore, when it takes out, all around we should simply say not all things are so anxious to leave. Envision this hypothesis, developed a seemingly endless amount of time after year for quite a long time. Your poor, dear colon!

The advantages of fasting are wide in reality. Here are my best seven reasons fasting is a smart thought:

1.) Gives your helpless stomach related framework a break that will permit it to kill old, developed waste that has collected in your colon throughout the long term.

2.) Toxicity tidy up. The energy saved can go to work at getting out destructive poisons that are put away in your liver.

3.) Mental clearness anybody? It has been shown that fasting for a time of three days can assist with wiping out the psychological fogginess and drowsy inclination that plagues the vast majority of us. Continuously recall that the very blood that movements through your colon is the very blood that movements to your cerebrum. That's all anyone needs to know.

4.) Increased energy level. Most everybody that has abstained has professed to feel lighter with an increment in their energy level. I'll take that!

5.) Allows for recuperating. The recorded physical and mental advantages of fasting are huge. Clear skin, decrease of hypersensitivities, better rest, better mentality, less tension, sinus seepage, may recuperate degenerative and immune system illnesses, just to give some examples.

6.) Spiritual arousing. Fasting has been done my great many centuries for valid justifications. Frequently, strict creatures (regardless of what their religion turned out to be) have taken an interest in normal fasting to interface simpler with Spirit and their Higher Self. Regardless of whether this was on the grounds that they were fantasizing from hunger stays to be deductively demonstrated.

7.) Weight misfortune. The MOST significant one, isn't that so? For the majority of us this might just be. At the point when an individual diets a ton of weight will vanish from the scale at first, generally water. When you eat again you will restore a few. The advantage with fasting for weight reduction lies thus. During a quick, you are basically squeezing the reset button. Your taste buds, being liberated from all the salt, fat, and synthetics we've molded them to cherish, will figure out how to be partial to nourishments in their regular state. We very well could locate another aversion for refined, prepared, quick "food sources". Our eating conduct will change. Fasting is an incredible method to start a get-healthy plan hence.

I should make reference to that there may be some undesirable symptoms of fasting. Migraines, craving, unsteadiness and weariness are the huge ones. You ought to decide to quick during an end of the week when you can rest at your relaxation and make certain to tell you family the thing you're doing and why. Tell them that it is so essential to you and you need their help with it. This is not the slightest bit perpetual. These results let you realize that your body is disposing of poisons and wiping itself out. The more noteworthy your poisonousness level, the more prominent the results. They ought to die down following three days in any case, in the event that they don't you should stop the quick https://momzonee.com/ideas/some-excellent-side-hustle-ideas-for-moms/.

There are a wide range of diets and obviously, you need to pick the one that suits you and your way of life well. We don't all live in a radical collective in the mountains from the hurrying around of reality. As I'm certain, the majority of us couldn't imagine anything better than to? In the event that you've never abstained I suggest just a single day of fluids. Simply no strong food. So squeezes, smoothies, stocks, soups, natural teas and loads of water. In the event that you would prefer to eat some strong food sources another kind of quick is dispensing with all prepared food sources and just eat crude, natural food in their regular state. There's likewise the water just quick. I'm not a devotee of this one longer than one day. Actually however, a fluid just quick is the best approach for longer periods with a light, crude and vegetarian supper to help the entrails move further.

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gloieee · 4 years

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To glo et al.

It seems appropriate in many ways to start off this playlist with Dr. WHOEVER, an introspective and unexpectedly slow-paced track by Amine that has stayed with me since a dear friend sent it to me towards the end of 2018. I remember the moment so clearly. It was a typical cold Boston winter evening, when the sun had set well before 4 pm. I was living in my stifling apartment in Longwood mere minutes from my work and feeling empty after putting my all into a process for a year +, and yet still under so much uncertainty about the future. Mentally and physically, I felt so heavy, and since I finally had time, got a work-subsidized gym membership. That particular day, I had mustered up all my energy to change into my gym clothes after work to head to the dingy Bodyscapes, which really just felt like an extension of the Longwood hospitals. (It didn’t help that it was literally nestled in one of the research buildings.) Walking the few minutes back home, my body hot and the night air cold, I listened to this song and got shivers at how much it felt like an anthem for the confused mid-twenty-year-olds going through shit. Sad on your motherfucking birthday, cause you know you’re getting older and not happier. It hit even harder because my birthday always comes with the new year, and that only exacerbates the reflecting and processing I do.

This song seems still more relevant this year, now. Indeed, it’s been crazy, for everyone, and it’s been laden with moments when you question, “what the fuck is my life.” I’ve been trying to be my own Dr. WHOEVER for the first time. It’s ironic that it’s my first, given that I’m trying to become a doctor for other people, perhaps even exactly the person you go to to tell all your problems. I’ve always been almost too good at telling a friend what I’m going through, contrary to the trope of the emotionally reticent young person, putting up a front of happiness. I’ve been having some illuminating conversations recently, mainly with the same friend who sent me this song years ago (who I have been so grateful towards, even more so these past few weeks), and been evaluating this funk that I’ve been in since Spring 2019 from a step back.

Up until last year, a source of my agony was being understood by others. I knew what I wanted, even though I also knew that from the outside, that didn’t always seem to make me “happy” nor appeared to be the easiest route to take. Hence, I would find myself constantly explaining/ defending what I was going through because I wanted others to “get it.” I’ve always deeply wanted to be understood by others, ever since I was an adolescent. I’ve always felt “different” in some way from other people around me, and I never liked that feeling. Hence, I am/ have always been so touched when someone “gets me”. It’s no coincidence that I have what I have etched onto my left forearm for eternity. So, when ~da funk~ started in 2019, I did what I always do and talked to people about it. I have amazing friends (thanks to my thick “General eyebrows,” which indicates “people luck” in Korea), and everyone has been so validating throughout this perplexing situation where I feel so unmotivated and unlike myself.

I realized recently that my situation right now may be pointedly opposite of what I’ve felt before—everyone else thinks I’m doing fine (many friends have said that it seemed like I was having the time of my life in LA—and I did from a certain lens), but I’m entirely unhappy with where I am. What I need right now doesn’t seem to be validation from anyone else, but from myself. I need to understand and accept where I am, and tell myself it’s okay. I’ve always been about facing the brute reality, bucking up, and making it through. This revelation has called for an entire change of pace—I am not used to being kind to myself, unless I’m going through something that I objectively consider difficult (i.e. debilitating chronic pain in college), superhumanly impossible, or at least deeply meaningful. I hold myself to such a standard that I never hold to my own friends or others. So as Amine says, I’m trying to let my feelings settle in and take my own advice.

My mother told me that no one can fully understand who I am, because there is no way for anyone to know everything that has happened in my life and what significance it holds for me. I’m the only one that can perhaps truly understand where I’m coming from, because I’m the only one who knows my life in its entirety. She told me that as she gets older, she realizes more and more that at the end of the day, our own self is all that anyone has. It’s a balance, but I am trying very hard to take care of myself, to be kind. I have felt, for the first time ever perhaps, that it doesn’t really help to talk to people about what I am struggling with right now. I like updating them once I have a breakthrough, or asking for specific advice after I wade through and organize my own thoughts, all the leaves and flowers strewn about the waters, but active problem solving with people (read: in real time freak outs) feel burdensome to everyone and lead me to also feel worse about myself. I don’t feel very good after talking about myself to other people right now.

I do feel bad because I also don’t really have the capacity to be there for others, and I don’t feel like I have a legitimate reason to be in that state. Even when I was going through objectively difficult things, I was able to (I thought) be present for my friends. This isn’t a good excuse, but for those who are reading, I apologize for not being present. The following songs are a letter of sorts to myself, all the different parts and voices of glo, a progression of me into my own mind. As I’ve mentioned before, I have sought to be a sort of muse to someone rather than my own whatever. I feel like I am seeking to be my own muse at this time. I could not explain to you what this really means, but I am listening to these songs with a different perspective than usual. Perhaps this means I am just blithely self-centered, but I’m not imagining other people to be singing about me anymore, but feel like this is me singing about me?

I am hopeful though. I think this could be something.

9. 20. 2020

_______________________________________________________________________

Is what I wrote nearly a month ago, a few weeks into these realizations, my purported ~self- care journey~ that I can’t say without a laugh (although it’s truly extremely important). And I was right. This WAS-IS SOMETHING. I feel more grounded and stable than I’ve felt since the dreaded March 2019. Grounded in a different sense, because I have let go of the notion that my feet need to touch the ground for me to feel stable.

My superficial mood is still what it is, but I don’t feel it racking me to my core anymore. I feel like I know who I am, for the first time since March 2019. I still can’t put it into words, but I know that I I know.

Open Wide- Spencer .

I hope you like the way I like to keep you in my head Same thoughts keep haunting me, while I am sleeping in my bed You've got me open wide Just come inside

2much – Spencer

Who let you make the rules? Summer's gone Win or lose, you still bruise Bring it on I put my little truth in this song Up too late, you're heavy on my mind now Lying to myself, I need to lie down Tearing down the walls, I need to cry now

Spencer’s music is like a beautiful, dreamy snapshot into vulnerability and honesty. An appropriate second intro for my journey with and within myself. God knows the same thoughts have been haunting me for a while, especially in the evenings laden with insomnia (which is ever so often these days), when my mind is not strong enough to fight off the negative thoughts and the burden of a day where I haven’t done nearly enough as I “should have.” But perhaps these repeating haunting thoughts actually show that I might as well invite myself into my own world, rather than forcing myself out. I’m already here anyway; might as well get comfortable. I’m too in my head a lot of the time, and this phrase is often used negatively. We need to be out in reality, in the real world; you just need to turn off your mind and get shit done. I’ve always believed in this firmly, which has led me to dislike myself a lot of the time. I like myself better when I’m action-oriented; I like others who are action-oriented, perhaps having been burnt hurt by people who are all thought and no action. But, at the same time, I need to recognize that I have never been that paralyzed to inaction so that I have lost something dear to me as a consequence. Of course, that could happen to me, as it can to anyone, but maybe I just need to cut myself some slack. Instead of forcing myself out of my mind, and feeling agonized when I find myself there inevitably, I would like to open wide and kindly invite myself in.

And what better way than with some good old honesty. … Summer’s gone, win or lose, you still bruise. BRING IT ON. This line carries courage that I’ve felt I had lost for a while. I’ve been so afraid of, it boils down to, regret. A certain type of regret.

Fun Girl - Summer Walker

I remember what you told me Said I wasn't made right Said I wasn't cut right That's why I'm so lonely, mm Can't turn a ho into a housewife Is it cause I love who I want and fuck who I choose to Don't take no shit and won't be used But I guess that makes me undesirable Life's unfair

I love Summer Walker with her ever raw, melancholy, crooning vocals. This mixtape-like track reminds me of an average post-grad apartment set up: soft beige carpets, and a girl singing into a mic surrounded by blankets on a second-hand plushy sofa. I listen to this song and think, what a dick this kid is for treating Summer this way when she’s baller. These queries are so relatable and I get so worked up until I realize—no one has ever said these things to me or made me feel this way really. It’s really just me saying it and doing it to myself. Funny to what extent you’re your worst critic.

On a separate note, her life’s unfair outro just pulls at my heart. Each time she says it it’s as if I can accept that fact a little bit better.

I Was Sad Last Night I’m OK now - Tobi Lou

I was sad last night, I'm okay now My bad lil' bih went missin' on me All my confidence sure went missin' on me Ain't seen you in a while, are you checkin' on me? I was hungry as fuck, I just ate now But the state that I'm in got me anxious again

Sometimes I ignore you too - Tobi Lou

All these things I don't need (A lot) Giving me anxiety (Stop) (I need you to escape I'm like light years away I’m here, you’re there It’s no fair You think you make all the rules My insides are royal blue Sometimes I ignore you too) Took a step back but, didn't go backwards I wanted things but they didn't happen

Tobi has been my soul food for the past few months. I was sad last night I’m OK now has been the mantra I’ve been trying to chant into existence. It’s all right you sad right now, but tomorrow, it’s gonna be better. It’s okay you were sad last night, but right now you’re ok. I play this song in the morning after I do my meditation. The cycle of trying to fulfill my basic needs/duties of the day, but the anxiety just popping up for no f- reason has really been my days lately. But I’m trying not to dwell on it too much. I constantly am reminding myself that I “took a step back but, didn’t go backwards.” I’m trying to live by it.

Tobi is a prolific artist and just so accurately captures the spirit of your twenties, these particular turbulent and unsure times, in so many other songs too. He just owns his vulnerability in a funky way; he’s sad but boppy; insecure but also knows he’s still hot shit, and honestly just goals. He just matter-of-factly states what he’s going through, and shows me that all these emotions can coexist at the same time and that’s fine and beautiful. I can be sad sometimes, but be okay; I can feel doubt while also thinking my insides are royal blue; I can miss someone but also ignore them; I can feel like things aren’t fair but move on; I can take a step back but move forward.

Dr. WHOEVER - Amine

I sit here and tell you my problems That's how this work, right? I'm s'posed to be open and honest But I got time, right Let your feelings settle in

I want war (but I need peace) - Kali Uchis

My mind and my soul is the weapon And every failure was a lesson See, I just wanna grow into my greatness I wish I had the time that you takin' I want war, but I need peace And they kept on callin' me crazy But maybe, that's how God made me

On the note of accepting myself, maybe this is how God made me. I’ve tried digging into why it was I was in such a funk when things were objectively fine, other than the obvious of what happened in Spring 2019. But I haven’t really* been able to get down to it, and I’ve felt a bit crazy and frustrated. And yet, I have been pressuring myself to get out of it for so long. The overarching theme has been that I’ve felt that I have no time, as Amine seems to question in Dr. WHOEVER. I feel so old, so behind in life, but can’t muster up the motivation to do even the basics for a while. Hence the loop-de-loop of doom. I’m maybe realizing that personality-wise I approach things like a war—something to conquer, to overcome, to achieve—when what I really need is peace—kindness, a steadier state. And instead of seeking that from external things—career, marriage by a certain age (which seem to be the standard these days)—I need to find that in myself.

I do think I’ve reached a point where I can’t justify why, but I can put words to why the slump has lasted this long. It’s because I felt like I just wasn’t making progress in any core pillars of my life. Even the good things were arbitrary and by chance, and it just made me feel like I wasn’t earning anything or moving forward. An interesting and random event has made me realize though, that every failure has been* a lesson, even though it’s taking much longer & more effort for me to feel it and realize it in my life. My mind and my soul has been a weapon that I’ve used against myself for a while, and I’m realizing I still can* use it for myself. I’m trying to grow into my greatness, and I think I am getting there, slowly but surely. Maybe I do have the time that you takin.

Instead of ruminating on why and what went wrong on multiple fronts, I am trying to cut my losses and accept, much like JID does. Sometimes you try for shit and shit just doesn’t work out. I need to just use how God made me to deal with whatever it is I’m going through, and be satisfied, even feel a sense of appreciation, instead of focusing on what I’m not:

Workin Out - JID

(Mama call, "Where the fuck you at?") -the story of living in Korea with my parents at age 26. I gave everything and got nothing back 'Cause I been working hella hard, shit ain't really working out I been praying to the Lord, shit ain't really working out I been looking to the stars, keep my head up in the clouds Shit ain't really working out, shit ain't really working out Quiet Don't explain What is there to gain Searching for a purpose, I see what you on Difference in how you be using your gifts In the midst of the shit that you dealing with

And a brief interjection to actually embrace the vulnerability that I so admire in Tobi and these artists. Despite these realizations that you need to stop lingering too much and move on, you still want a hot tub dream machine and want things you can’t have, and want to croon about it for a bit. “Honesty is better when it’s practiced”: this line hits me most saliently these days. It’s one of those lines that hits you and you’re like wow, what an interesting way to phrase a truth. We always talk about honesty and the value of it, and harbor our honest thoughts it in ourselves. Yet we rarely fully voice it, to ourselves nor to our families, friends, partners and it leads to a lot of strife. Honesty not about what we want or want to reach, but where we’re at right now. A failure to do this has been a central part of how things went further south last year. I’ve been taking this to heart, and trying to practice this form of honesty these days.

Hot tub DREAM machine - tobi Lou

Ayy, I need a hot tub time machine Then I can go back and fix everything Same old you, but a different me Maybe we can be human beings Still struggling with a whole lot of things I'm still down here spiraling But you know there's something about you That makes me happy, but makes me so sad too Makes me so damn sad I don't wanna fall asleep, I don't wanna say good night I don't wanna get too weak, I don't wanna slip your mind 'Cause lately you so UFO You don't come around no more You visit me in my dreams Like why on Earth you do that for?

Cheap Vactions – Tobi Lou

I'm just waitin' on you, on you I got a window seat with your name on it I got the red eye cheap, we could fade on it I-I-I do not think I'm ok Sometimes I think I can fly You know I hate being lonely Don't keep me waiting too long

Stolen Moments - Cautious Clay

Honesty is better when it’s practiced Don’t stress your confidence in subtleties Cus no better half can satisfy A wasted alibi

Ultimately, despite the meandering journey I’ve been on, the dips of frustration and self-questioning, I feel it like a faint hint in the backdrop that has gotten more salient over the months: I’m proud of myself. I remember listening to PROUD OF U by EARTHGANG (feat. Young Thug) while doing some dumbbell rows at the gym and feeling a pang in my chest and perhaps, a tiny tear in my eye. Something about Young Thug’s cracking voice as he says he’s proud of you that got to me. These past few months, I’ve truly realized how hard on myself I normally am and it feels like a big step for me to be proud of myself, not for an external achievement that everyone validates or something that I think is impossible, but for working on myself in a silent way, even if parts of it may appear incomprehensible or silly to both myself and others.

And my lighthearted spirit anthem. I’m addicted to “taking care of myself” in all ways these past few months, and a funsie way it has manifested is exactly and literally the following: an obsession with skincare. No matter the topsy turvy tribulations of the day, I wrap up the evening slapping on some new toners, serums, and creams, maybe peeling off a sheet mask pack, and feeling myself to this song. There’s something that feels affirming about taking care of my skin even if “the world gonna end,” and I see no one. It’s a symbolic, tangible, but also random act that keeps it all in good fun. The interweaving of cursing out the doom of 2020, the anger directed towards multiple sources yet no one at all, the sadness, the confidence, the indignation, the sass, the resolve, the twinkly dancing alone in my room, the laughter, all in no particular order, it all me right now.

I really do feel like if I continue down this road, circling back to Dr. Whoever, I’ll be on track in my life. This may actually save a life:

SKIN CARE TUTORIAL 2020 - Tobi Lou

I'm irrational, I'm too passionate I don't give a fuck, I just popped a zip Mirror on the wall, who the baddest bitch? Oh yeah right that's me How could I forget? Vengeance on these hoes, 2020 shit Real sad shit God damn bitch, I'm beautiful Have you ever seen a - like me? Let me answer that for you, no you haven't I'm takin' care of my skin, ayy I'm drinkin' water and shit, yeah I moisturize like a bitch, ooh Fuck 2020 by the way, yeah (Bitch, this might fuck around and save a life)

Updated mid-Oct & mid-Nov 2020

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shineebebe · 7 years

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Bad Girl (Final Part)

(The final part to this accidentally long fic. Read part 1 and 2 here if you haven’t already http://shineefanfictions.tumblr.com/post/163017802028/bad-girl http://shineefanfictions.tumblr.com/post/163178134518/bad-girl-part-2 This contains choking, forced orgasms and restraints)

It was like an out an out of body experience; the way you were so mentally exhausted but so physically awake, the powerful pulsing feeling between your legs still making you squirm.

“Hoseok, please, un-tie me.”

You murmured, your saliva in a puddle over your mouth and on Hoseok’s manhood. With the same agonisingly sexy grin, he shook his head.

“Patience baby.”

He replied before placing an affectionate kiss upon your lips, not caring if your mouth was messy from the oral.

“B..but I want to touch you.”

You pleaded as you watched him walk back to that set of drawers, his luscious behind moving with a soft jiggle. You began to wonder what was in there and why he’d never brought anything out of them before. This time, you watched closely to see what he was getting. It appeared to be a plastic bottle of something and then your head became too heavy to keep up. Frustrated, your head sunk in to the pillows, your wrists becoming agitated from being held up for too long. There was a shift on the bed, telling you your boyfriend was back. There was a cap opening and then a crunch of a plastic bottle being squeezed.

“Hoseok, what’re you doing now? Please be gentle with me...I’m so sensitive.”

You had to ask because you couldn’t look; all of your energy was going down the drain.

“This is lubricant baby, for your pussy. I’m going to fuck you now but this won’t be gentle. This is punishment, remember?”

You whined, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle it. All you wanted was for your hands to be free and hold Hoseok or at least be able to rest. Suddenly, there was an icy cold, thick liquid running down the slit of your pussy. Hoseok’s fingers slowly spread the lube around your womanhood and as soon as his coated fingers went inside you, you shrieked from the tenderness of that area, thrusting your hips rabidly to try and get him away.

“Hush now Princess, I know you’re sore.”

He cooed, pulling his fingers out of you as gently as he could.

“Hoseok...”

You tugged berserkly on your restraints that you could swear were glued to the bed posts.

“Please, I can’t take you. You’re too big...you’re going to hurt me.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of Hoseok’s erection at it’s full capacity; you’d barely be able to fit your hand around it, never mind take it inside your over stimulated pussy.

“Just try to relax Princess. I’ll ease you in to it, okay?”

Though his tone was reassuring, your body tensed when his large tip met with your entrance. You couldn’t relax, it was too hard to calm your mind. Your chest started to heave, anxious that it’d be too painful.

“Baby, please relax for me.”

He whispered, cute Hoseok making a quick return to the scene. You took a deep breath, biting your lip and gazing in to Hoseok’s hungry dark chocolate eyes. Your boyfriend began to ease himself inside you, going slowly, inch by inch. You gasped, your walls instantly clenching around his shaft as he stretched you. You felt full, uncomfortable, but shockingly, it felt good. It felt good for Hoseok to be intimate with you, bonding with you somehow at last. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist as he moved forward, his lips claiming yours as he burrowed himself deeper inside you. He tried to take your mind off the sensitivity with his passionate kiss, his warm, soft hands holding your face as his hips moved more roughly. You were beginning to become thankful for the lube as without it, Hoseok’s powerful thrusts would hurt a lot more. You hissed through your clenched teeth as he seemed to forget to be gentle. The man got carried away, lost in his own sexual bubble, grabbing your hips and and moving you up and down the bed to meet his aggressive pounding. You could barely understand your own body. His cock felt amazing inside you but a tinge of pain hit as soon as his neat but fuzzy pubic hair met the moist, soft skin of your clit. You couldn’t fight your cries anymore; it’d be sure to wake the entire street up. Hoseok seemed to like you being loud, his eyes somehow turning darker, animalistic. He told you he wouldn’t be gentle and oh boy, was he being honest there. He lunged forward and held your neck tightly in his grasp, making you roll your eyes back in to your skull. Oh, this was alien, a completely different sensation. The inability to breathe well blocked all pain sensations and left only pleasure. You could only feel the relentless fucking, Hoseok’s thighs hitting your pink behind as he moved and your boyfriend turned in to a dominant. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was called Wonho on stage. Wonho, the dominant; Hoseok, the cute, adoring and loving boyfriend. The grip on your neck got tighter, you gulped, your mewls only encouraging Hoseok to go faster.

“That’s right Princess, you like it when I choke you don’t you? You like being a bad girl and being punished, don’t you?”

Hoseok grunted, his athletic body glistening with sweat. It was a heavenly vision. All you could manage was a whimper and a slight movement of your head. When Wonho released his hand from your neck, all you wanted to do was pounce on him and use every last ounce of your energy. You could barely believe it but your third and you prayed, last orgasm was beginning to bubble inside your core and Hoseok could feel you getting even tighter around him.

“Fuck! Princess, you’re driving me crazy.”

He growled, pushing his damp hair away from his eyes before finally reaching over and un-tying you from the bed post. You could have cried with relief. You flexed your hands and wrists quickly before being hauled on to Hoseok’s lap. You were encased by this thick, muscular arms, his hands holding your hips and guiding you up and down on his swollen cock. The feeling of your breasts pressed against his chest was other-worldly and though your pussy could barely handle the intrusion, you were glad to feel at home. Home was where he was.

“Ride my dick baby. Cum for me.”

You had to bite your lower lip painfully hard as you rode him, your pussy beginning to throb, that familiar dull pain returning as you needed to cum.

“Ah! Hoseok! I can’t!”

You squirmed on Hoseok’s length, your orgasm feeling like it was going to rupture your core. Hoseok took your neck in his grasp again, fucking you harder, his eyes burning in to yours. Your heart smacked against your chest, your lungs trying hard to pump air out.

“Yes you will!”

He ordered, trying to fight his own orgasm until he squeezed one last one out of you. He needed it, whether it hurt you or not. You squeezed his broad shoulders, holding on to them for dear life. The choking didn’t help this time. Sweat dripped down your body as your orgasm reached the surface like a shattering earthquake, even the smallest hairs on your body stood an edge, a frustrated scream escaping your mouth. You physically couldn’t take anymore; you’d reached your absolute limit. Though Hoseok’s hand was back on your waist, you still struggled to breathe.

“God. I want to cum inside you.”

He proclaimed, his hands holding you so tight that his finger prints were marking your skin. You were lucky Hoseok held you upright as he reached his own climax; you had no energy left. He let out a loud grunt, followed by a cry, bellowing from his body. It sounded like he was in pain too. It was understandable; the man had slept with an erection and held all of his frustration on until then. Now he knew what it was like to be overly sensitive.

Time stood still, perfectly silent, only interrupted by your jagged breaths and loud heart beats. Being cradled in Hoseok’s arms was something you’d longed for, for what seemed like an eternity. Sweetly, Hoseok placed a cushion soft kiss upon your cheek, then another one on your jaw, followed by your neck. You giggled, making him smile from ear to ear, his skin glowing with happiness.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Your boyfriend uttered softly before tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ears. You must have looked like a crazy woman with a red face and messy sex hair that resembled a nest but Hoseok thought you looked wonderful post coital. You nodded. You were just about alive.

“Just sore...and very tired.”

You answered truthfully. Hoseok chuckled warmly, his eyes sparkling before kissing your lips. Your heart melted, your soul falling for him so deeply. With him still inside you, he shuffled back on the bed and laid you down, your head finding the plush pillows once more.

“I’m going to pull out of you now, okay baby?”

Your ball of fluff boyfriend was back for good, constantly worrying about you and babying you. You hummed in response, telling him it was okay before bracing yourself. As carefully as he could, he eased his now softened manhood out of you. You winced; you’d never felt so sore in your life. After everything, you were just glad you wouldn’t be touched down there for a while. Hoseok climbed off the bed, wobbling slightly. You grinned, watching him trying to walk with his now weak legs in to the bathroom. It was hard not to laugh; he was walking like a penguin. He returned with some tissue and ordered you to spread your legs. Instantly, your body tensed up, making Hoseok laugh.

“Silly Princess. I’m just cleaning up the mess I made down there. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

It made a change for that morning, him being gentle. It certainly felt uncomfortable and irritated but more so, it felt very intimate, him wiping his own semen from your body. For some reason, it made you feel a lot closer to him. The whole experience made you feel closer to him. When he’d thrown the tissue away, he dropped down next to you and wrapped the silky blanket over you, making sure you were tucked in well.

“Can I hold you?”

Hoseok asked softly, his once lust filled eyes now like a puppies. You giggled, amused at the question.

“What kind of question is that?! Of course you can.”

Hoseok smiled but you could still see the vulnerability in his eyes. He wrapped his safe arms around you and held you close to him, desperately needing to be entwined with you. Skin on skin, you could feel his heart beat against yours, soothing your soul.

“I was worried you might resent me or think I want to hurt you...that you might think I don’t love you and that’s not true at all. I love you so much. I want to be with you, always. Please tell me you know that?”

He stared in to your eyes, anxiety masking his face. Vulnerable, stressed Hoseok tugged at your heart strings. How could he go from such an arrogant dominant to a soft, gentle man? It truly confused you.

“I know Hoseok. Please, don’t worry. I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

“Baby, it’s 6pm. I made you Ramen, you want some? I’ll feed it to you if you like?”

The heavy fog of tiredness rested upon your head. At least you weren’t hungover any more. You must have fallen in to a very deep sleep. Yet, you still smiled at your attentive boyfriend who was gazing at you like you were his everything.

“Yes please baby. Did I fall asleep? What happened?”

You asked before yawning loudly, stretching your aching arms out to the sky. Hoseok sat at the edge of the bed, the cutest smile on his angel face.

“I was talking away about how much I loved you and you fell asleep in my arms. I wiggled out and went to the store. I bought you your favourite chocolate...I watched you sleep for a little bit. You look so beautiful when you sleep, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but blush and try to hide your face but Hoseok was having none of it. With his finger, he tenderly tilted your chin up, making you look at him. After all your time with him, he still made you feel giddy when you looked at him.

“You’re breathtaking.”

He uttered. You bit your lip. If you weren’t in such a state, you’d leap on him and make him yours.

“Hoseok, I’m curious...”

He raised an eyebrow but then encouraged you to go on.

“Do you prefer it when I behave or when I disobey you?”

You asked, only because he seemed to enjoy giving you your punishment so much yet he seemed so angry at you for it at the same time. Hoseok smiled charmingly before pecking you on the nose.

“I like it when you’re you. No matter what, you beguile me, (Y/N).”

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madamlaydebug · 7 years

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WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE? Pythagoras (570-490 BC) – For as long as man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower living beings, he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre animals, they will kill each other. Indeed, he who sows the seeds of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love. Buddha (563-483 BC) – To become vegetarian is to step into the stream which leads to nirvana.. Hippocrates (460-370 BC) – The soul is the same in all living creatures, although the body of each is different. Plato (428-347 BC) – The Gods created certain kinds of beings to replenish our bodies; they are the trees and the plants and the seeds. Plutarch (46-120): A human body in no way resembles those that were born for ravenousness; it hath no hawk’s bill, no sharp talon, no roughness of teeth, no such strength of stomach or heat of digestion, as can be sufficient to convert or alter such heavy and fleshy fare . . . There is nobody that is willing to eat even a lifeless and a dead thing even as it is; so they boil it, and roast it, and alter it by fire and medicines, as it were, changing and quenching the slaughtered gore with thousands of sweet sauces, that the palate being thereby deceived may admit of such uncouth fare. Voltaire (1694-1778) – How pitiful, and what poverty of mind, to have said that the animals are machines deprived of understanding and feeling . . . Judge (in the same way as you would judge your own) the behaviour of a dog who has lost his master, who has searched for him in the road barking miserably, who has come back to the house restless and anxious, who has run upstairs and down, from room to room, and who has found the beloved master at last in his study, and then shown his joy by barks, bounds and caresses. There are some barbarians who will take this dog, that so greatly excels man in capacity for friendship, who will nail him to a table, and dissect him alive, in order to show you his veins and nerves. And what you then discover in him are all the same organs of sensation that you have in yourself. Answer me, mechanist, has Nature arranged all the springs of feeling in this animal to the end that he might not feel? Has he nerves that he may be incapable of suffering? Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) – My refusing to eat meat occasioned inconveniency, and I have been frequently chided for my singularity. But my light repast allows for greater progress, for greater clearness of head and quicker comprehension. Charles Darwin (1809-1882) – There is no fundamental difference between man and the higher animals in their mental faculties . . . The lower animals, like man, manifestly feel pleasure and pain, happiness, and misery. Henry David Throeau (1817-1862) – One farmer says to me, “You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes nothing to make the bones with;” and so he religiously devotes a part of his day to supplying himself with the raw material of bones; walking all the while he talks behind his oxen, which, with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumbering plow along in spite of every obstacle. I have no doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other. -Henry David Thoreau Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1821-1881) – Love animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble their joy, don’t harass them, don’t deprive them of their happiness, don’t work against God’s intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you – alas, it is true of almost every one of us! Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910) – A man can live and be healthy without killing animals for food; therefore, if he eats meat, he participates in taking animal life merely for the sake of his appetite. And to act so is immoral. Mark Twain (1835-1910) – Of all the creatures, man is the most detestable. Of the entire brood, he’s the one that possesses malice. He is the only creature that inflicts pain for sport, knowing it to be pain. The fact that man knows right from wrong proves his intellectual superiority to the other creatures; but the fact that he can do wrong proves his moral inferiority to any creature that cannot. Thomas Edison (1847-1931) – Non-violence leads to the highest ethics, which is the goal of all evolution. Until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages. George Benard Shaw (1856-1950) – Think of the fierce energy concentrated in an acorn! You bury it in the ground, and it explodes into an oak! Bury a sheep, and nothing happens but decay. Animals are my friends and I don’t eat my friends. -George Bernard Shaw Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) – At the moment our human world is based on the suffering and destruction of millions of non-humans. To perceive this and to do something to change it in personal and public ways is to undergo a change of perception akin to a religious conversion. Nothing can ever be seen in quite the same way again because once you have admitted the terror and pain of other species you will, unless you resist conversion, be always aware of the endless permutations of suffering that support our society. Dmitry Sergeyevich Merezhkovsky (Russian, 1865-1941), from The Romance of Leonardo da Vinci – Truely man is the king of beasts, for his brutality exceeds theirs. We live by the death of others: we are burial places! I have from an early age abjured the use of meat, and the time will come when men such as I will look on the murder of animals as they now look on the murder of men. Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1955) – It ill becomes us to invoke in our daily prayers the blessings of God, the Compassionate, if we in turn will not practice elementary compassion towards our fellow creatures. The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated. -Mahatma Gandhi Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965) – Until he extends the circle of his compassion to all living things, man will not himself find peace. Albert Einstein (1879-1955) – It is my view that the vegetarian manner of living, by its purely physical effect on the human temperament, would most beneficially influence the lot of mankind. H.G. Wells (1886-1946) – In all the round world of Utopia there is no meat. There used to be, but now we cannot stand the thought of slaughterhouses. And it is impossible to find anyone who will hew a dead ox or pig. I can still remember as a boy the rejoicings over the closing of the last slaughterhouse. Ruth Harrison (1920-2000) – In fact, if one person is unkind to an animal it is considered to be cruelty, but where a lot of people are unkind to animals, especially in the name of commerce, the cruelty is condoned and, once large sums of money are at stake, will be defended to the last by otherwise intelligent people. William Roberts, MD (1932-present) – When we kill the animals to eat them, they end up killing us because their flesh, which contains cholesterol and saturated fat, was never intended for human beings. Carl Sagan (1934-1996) – Humans–who enslave, castrate, experiment on, and fillet other animals–have had an understandable penchant for pretending animals do not feel pain. A sharp distinction between humans and “animals” is essential if we are to bend them to our will, make them work for us, wear them, eat them–without any disquieting tinges of guilt or regret. It is unseemly of us, who often behave so unfeelingly toward other animals, to contend that only humans can suffer. The behavior of other animals renders such pretensions specious. They are just too much like us. Colin Campbell, MD (1934-present) – [W]hat we have come to consider as “normal” illnesses of aging are really not normal. In fact, these findings indicate that the vast majority, perhaps 80 to 90% of all cancers, cardiovascular diseases, and other forms of degenerative illness can be prevented, at least until very old age, simply by adopting a plant-based diet. The Dalai Lama (1935-present) – I do not see any reason why animals should be slaughtered to serve as human diet when there are so many substitutes. After all, man can live without meat. It is only some carnivorous animals that have to subsist on flesh. Killing animals for sport, for pleasure, for adventures, and for hides and furs is a phenomenon which is at once disgusting and distressing. There is no justification in indulging in such acts of brutality . . . Life is as dear to a mute creature as it is to a man. Just as one wants happiness and fears pain, just as one wants to live and not to die, so do other creatures. Paul McCartney (1942-present) – If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian. Neal D. Barnard, MD (1953-present) – The beef industry has contributed to more American deaths than all the wars of this century, all natural disasters, and all automobile accidents combined. If beef is your idea of “real food for real people,” you’d better live real close to a real good hospital. k.d. lang (1961-present) – We all love animals. Why do we call some “pets” and others “dinner?”

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butterflies-in-my-tummy · 8 years

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Social media makes us mad

It was my birthday this week, over a stretch of about five days I had a wonderful time, I saw friends and family and was showered with gifts and cards and messages of love. I had 40+ messages on Facebook, a dozen texts and a handful of phone calls all because yesterday 28 years ago I entered the world as a ball of life and energy; and today I have stayed in bed. In fact yesterday I knew that I was having a dip, but I had plans and it was my actual birthday so I pulled myself through the mud and I put my best dress on and ploughed into my day determined to have a great and memorable day. Today, when I woke up I should have got up and tidied the flat (we've been away for a few days and missed the weekend rituals), I should have gone with my husband to take my beloved pet to her vet check up, I should have but I didn't, I decided today I didn't have my waders and so bed was it for me. I am genuinely blessed, I realise how terribly cheesy that sounds but I am, I have colleagues, family and friends who all went out of their way to ensure I felt special, that I was given beautiful things and things that they spent time and money thinking about how much I would love these things. I am a material person, sometimes I wish I wasn't but it's one of my underlying traits and it doesn't define me over all so it's a battle I don't (currently) wish to face. So those things and the effort put into choosing them made me tremendously happy and grateful. I wouldn't even hesitate to do the same for any one of the aforementioned groups of people, their happiness is my (mostly) number one priority, and it's taken a long time to really value the group of people I have around me. Five or so years ago, for me it was all about organising a party or a gathering and feeling special because a large group of people I never bothered to get to know properly turned up, those people deserved better from me, and by pretending that I had the capacity to genuinely care enough for them I was hurting them and damaging myself. It is absolutely OK to know and be friendly with a large number of people, but to say for example that the 223 people I have on my Facebook account are as they are titled by the site my friends, is not entirely genuine or faithful to their lives they are so passionately living. And so when 40+ wish me happy birthday (and I really do mean it when I say thank you for your kind wishes) it actually makes me feel fairly conflicted. Especially in times of celebration it is so easy to wish a person best wishes, but if you think about how many people you congratulate on their new baby and will never have cause to meet said baby, wish them a happy birthday but never be invited to their birthday celebrations, how many times are you best wishes and thoughts diluted? So that when it comes to your best friend, how genuine are your wishes? Very, I am certain, but how do we differentiate between the generic message of love and joy and the deep and meaningful one? Do you actually write anything unique on their wall? I have been lying in my bed all day, feeling like I am being pinned down by a heavy fog, not thinking and barely feeling, is it because yesterday I received a steady steam of messages and today there is silence? Sadly it could be, because for every little red 1 that told me that a single person was in that moment thinking about me and about my life, my brain receive a chemical rush that slowly but surely pulled me up and up on a high and today in the silence I have come crashing back down. In fact I am certain some of you may have read 223 Facebook friends and thought 'wow that's not many, I have...'400 or 700 or maybe more? Nearly four years ago I made a conscious decision when I decided that acting wasn't the life for me (thus removing the need to keep 'contacts' on my friends list) and that was that I would commit my loyalty and time to a small group of true friends hiding in the masses of people I had met once and wish well, but who would never need me to sustain a mental or emotional connection with them. Even now, an old school friend will add me, knowing I don't really care I will feel guilt and accept the request, but no as soon as I am learning about their beautiful child I start to feel uncomfortable, this person is now a stranger and I emphatically do not care about them or their child - I am not being cruel, I am being honest; and so I delete them. (Then I feel guilty all over again!) Social media is just a more recent incarnation of the many and varied media forms that contribute to the comparison culture "she's got lots of friends", "she looks like a really fun person", "she looks so clever" the possibilities of how we present ourselves is endless, but for the most part it's fake. I do it, you do it, we all do it. That picture of me smiling and drinking my tea in the British Library, that took four or five attempts, when I was on the precipice of anxiety (for no good reason at that point I might add) because god forbid I let my 224 Facebook friends see me looking any less than what I consider my best, my outfit was chosen for two purposes to make me feel good (that is important number one) and to look good, and seeing as I spend a minimal amount of time a day looking at myself, it was because I care so much about what other people will think when then look at me. And I am addicted, I cannot tear myself away from social media, which although not a cause for my particular anxieties, it is most certainly a daily poison that I willingly ingest. My point dear friends and people that I vaguely know is this, let's try to be ourselves, and more than that let's try to present ourselves as we truly are. Most of all let's stop spreading ourselves so thinly and disingenuously by being Facebook friends with every person who adds us and then wish them the love and happiness that your best friend has worked tirelessly to deserve and where this 'friend' has done very little. So when I don't say happy birthday or congratulations to you the next time you are celebrating, I absolutely wish you well, but my love and my thoughts and my energy are reserved for the people who I am loyal to and who are loyal to me. They are my life and my world, and despite spending a whole day in bed accompanied by a dark shadow, it's them who get me through, and when they need me I have reserved my energy to get them through also.

#selfhelp #anxiety #social #social media #birthday #bed

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