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asherlockstudy · 4 years

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I got into gmm fandom this year and I love these 2 old men extremely, and I recently read your discussions about Link's psyche and the ear biscuits commentary and I totally relate to you. I couldn't find anything that you wrote about the competition eb#255. I'm very interested in your thoughts on this particular episode since your ideas on their psychology really fascinates me. Will you please share?

First of all, thank you for your kind words!

The truth is I certainly have an opinion on the competition episode but I was hesitant to post anything about it because I wasn’t sure whether that would push any boundaries. Since you asked, I am going to tell you, but I would like to stress to any MB who will read this that this theory / analysis works through a Rhink perspective or at least the perspective of an intense friendship, which I think their friendship is anyway, so you need to be in that mindset from the beginning. This is obviously my personal take on their conversation; the way the puzzle pieces fit inside my mind if you will. It can be as far from the truth as Rhink itself in general. Technically it can be read out of the Rhink lens but IMO it makes more sense this way, so I’m gonna tag this only as #rhink.

Now let’s actually go to the topic in question. Rhett and Link are both competitive but in different ways and for different reasons and to different targets.

Rhett is naturally competitive. Or maybe not naturally per se, as I think this competitiveness was planted inside him by his father. His father expected him to be good at everything, an expectation that Rhett then internalized and simply never escaped from. His competitiveness might be maximized by feelings of insecurity and self-consciousness. If Rhett cares so much what people think of him, it’s only natural that he wants to ensure that people will think highly of him and that requires him to be good, look good and always perform well. The more Rhett loves and is loved by a person, he’s sooomewhat more relaxed in revealing his weaknesses. Rhett is always competitive but he’s less competitive with his close friends and family than with strangers. Rhett would take 100 defeats from Link than one from any other youtuber. And like he said, Rhett doesn’t mind losing to his sons because he wants them to do well and because, duh, they are McLaughlins and they are proof success still runs in HIS family.

Link is insecure too but handled it for the most part of his life in a completely different way. I have the impression that until 5-6 years ago Link had resigned and lived defeated inside his insecurity. His own insecurity stems from lack of self-worth, which probably stems from feelings of abandonness in his childhood. Let alone that if there’s any truth to the queer!Link theory, he also felt socially and religiously alienated from everyone around him, most importantly Rhett, and all this suffered in silence. This is why his insecurity is associated mostly with the people close to him and not strangers. Link doesn’t care much if random people think poorly of him which is why he’s not self-conscious and can talk to people. But Link is hurt a lot if a person he loves a lot doubts him or mocks him or simply doesn’t regard him very highly. He has a primal fear of getting taken in, abandoned or betrayed. He’s grown to become a suspicious person, often entertaining the worse case scenario, fearing that a person he loves could actually not love or respect him back as sincerely. As an example, from everything they’ve said I have the impression Link adored Rhett when they were children. He looked up to him and Rhett was some sort of role model for him. Link didn’t have many other friends and certainly not others like Rhett and the rest of his time he spent mostly alone in his home. Meanwhile, Rhett had more variety in his life: he had other friends, including Ben whom he admired so much, hobbies and an obsession with girls. So it’s safe to assume that Link was more “there” for Rhett than Rhett was “there” for him, without that meaning IN ANY WAY that Rhett didn’t love him as much. But Link couldn’t know that - and when Rhett was busying himself with something else, his feelings of abandonness and lack of self-worth intensified.

I think Link never escaped from these feelings.There were some GMM episodes where Link has implied that he often feels Rhett takes him for granted and shouldn’t. In short, Link loathes that he feels uncertain in his friendship with Rhett whereas Rhett feels perfectly sure in it. This, especially at a point 4-5 years ago, when Link started changing stylistically and in the way he carried himself (we can only guess why), it was also the time Link’s efforts to fight that feeling of defeat especially around Rhett reached their peak.

I trust Rhett’s input in this. I don’t doubt Rhett senses competitiveness coming from Link’s side. What Rhett might not understand is that Link is not globally competitive but mostly towards certain people, including him, first and foremost. Things such as vanity, overt enthusiasm when winning, “OOOOH HA-HA-HA-HA” when Rhett got insulted, “I prefer time with my wife”, “I can’t be always there for you”, “I have other friends beside you Rhett” are some random examples of this overcompensation that is the unconventional competitiveness Link feels against Rhett. “Against” is a strong word though because I believe Link doesn’t do any of this to bring Rhett down but rather to go up and be on the same level as him. NOTE: I don’t believe Link is in any way lower, I believe Link fears this is the case. Link dreams of an entirely equal and balanced relationship between them, not because it isn’t so, but because he has invested so much in Rhett that he constantly fears everything he can lose. He wants Rhett to look up to him, to admire him so that he can keep him, and moreover keep him eternally interested and intrigued. In short, he wants Rhett to feel the way he feels about him and he thinks this cannot be as long as Rhett takes him for granted or doesn’t take his skills, mind, virtues and looks seriously. Furthermore, his tendencies to take most of the control in their job and be a perfectionist could also be connected to all that and increase his anxiety associated with the stability of their job.

The problem is that Rhett perhaps doesn’t understand the motive behind Link’s behaviour and interprets it as plain old competitiveness. He’s however, as I felt in the podcast, troubled by it being targeted to him. A remark like “I have other good friends too” is something that makes Link feel more independent from Rhett but Rhett could occasionally get hurt and think “Okay but why does he have to say this to me?”.

This unavoidably is channeled in their business too. A duo of internet celebrities? That’s like the recipe of guaranteed failure! Even non-competitive people have destroyed their businesses and friendships this way. What Rhett and Link have managed so far is world record. Part of their success is how open they are to each other about how they feel. In fact, it was very healthy of Rhett to confess openly that he has some level of “mild envy” about Link doing well in various aspects of the show. This means that Rhett sat down when he experienced these feelings, had a talk with himself and reached the conclusion that he was very happy Link was doing well. He just felt he had to push himself to be as good - not better - so that he would not feel bad about himself contributing in this show, in this business. And in short, Rhett feels he need to compete with Link in being as likable to the viewers. I consider this totally understandable.

Link was reluctant to speak openly throughout the whole episode. And that was because his answer was not that easy. From everything he said, I was positively surprised that it seemed Link has it all laid out very clearly in his mind - how he acts and why. He just wasn’t willing to explain, particularly in public. This becomes clear towards the end of the podcast - when Rhett is essentially about to lose his mind because Link denies everything, Link starts to say something only to stop and decide he shouldn’t do it eventually. More importantly, Link adds in the end that Rhett made the big mistake to base his understanding of Link’s competitiveness in minor conventional things such as games and job performance. Link said that Rhett was stripping their relationship off of way too many parameters that he wasn’t taking into consideration to reach a valid conclusion. So indeed Link’s competitiveness is a very personal topic with deep roots and IS connected mostly (if not exclusively) to his relationship with Rhett. Link doesn’t want to be better than Rhett either - he wants to be as good as Rhett and be liked by the viewers. Not for the viewers’ sake but in order to rub it in Rhett’s face later. Again, he doesn’t want to hurt Rhett - this is likely a desire for guaranteed continuous attention from Rhett, whatever it takes.

Furthermore, Link always makes sure to draw attention from the audience as much as Rhett, if not more, (which could be fundamentally what Rhett interprets as competitiveness and doesn’t know how to regulate) which is Link’s way to ensure he’s not taken for Rhett’s sidekick (in his own words) by either the viewers or Rhett himself, because inside Link’s full of concerns mind this hits a little too close to home.

Now, if there’s any truth to Rhink, intensify this by 10x.

#rhink #anon #ask #mail #mythical

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years

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Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned?

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did.

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies).

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more.

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee.

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee.

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious!

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period.

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid.

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy, his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts.

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry.

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

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secretsofthedarkestkind-arch · 3 years

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@storieswrittcn from here

My Dearest Heart, Chicago, truly there of all places Katerina? I have never, however, I do hear the stories and rumors of what this war is causing. Whether it be in passing of Father’s acquaintances or discussion among those in town. Chicago is near the front lines. You do love chasing the danger don’t you? Though with everything happening in the city, it would be a place easy enough to hide among others without someone questioning your presence.

Feeding from the lower end of the food chain is not one I thought I would ever see you do. Even if it does keep you safe and the suspicion of who you are low, I am not completely agreeable to that. But as you have said, you must do what you have to. Do the drugs affect you after you have drank from them? I have only ever seen a few under the influence, only a small number made me laugh at the way their minds were altered. Soon enough you will have the blood of something cleaner, purer, and one that, if by your own reactions tell me, has become your favorite.

A witch? To have you seeking her out she must be powerful. I hope she can show you what you seek to learn. It warms my soul knowing part of the reason you wish to continue your knowledge in the art of magic is to protect me. I cannot wait to see what you are able to do or the beauty of which you speak. Concepts of light and dark are ones I do not fully believe in. I understand them and begrudgingly admit are there but who has the right to deem what is light or dark? Both can cause harm can they not? Both can provide protection when needed just as well correct? So when then do we always have to label items or actions in categories of ‘good’ or ‘evil’. Actions as people move between the two. Though that is simply my opinion and I may admittedly be naive.

Though I do not possess the abilities you do, I feel the same way about you. Harper, though a fallen soldier so possibly not the best teacher, has offered to give me a few lessons in self defense when we can slip away. I’ve learned to fire a rifle and small pistol as well. My aim continues to improve and I dare say it’s better than Damon’s. One day I will be able to protect you as you protect me. You may be Katherine Pierce, a survivor and fighter, but everyone needs someone at times to be there in a time of need. I will be that person.

Please, my heart, do not taunt your enemies. I know they are a necessary downfall of the life you are forced to live and they are to be expected. But that does not mean you need to make a situation worse. Tie up the ends you must, do what you need to do, but come back to me unharmed.

Parties? Hm, I do not envy you in the least. You are correct, dresses and corsets make my skin itch---they made me feel suffocated and trapped. Being forced into them, keeping up appearances and appearing as society states I must...it kills a part inside of me each time, Katerina. I want to scream, break things, tear the dresses to shreds just to be free. But I cannot. I must continue to lie, to kill my soul, and hide a part of myself away just to avoid the wrath and closed mindedness of my family as well as society. My only freedom you, my aunt, and now those you have deemed worthy of our family.

But for you? I would try. There might be a day when I can go as myself, dressed in a suit only made of the best linens that are appropriate to be seen beside your beauty. That is a dream I will hold on to. That we will find a time, within our eternity, where I can be myself with you on my arm attending events that please you.

My type of food or yours, my heart? I am smirking as I write that question. For with you, it might be both or just yours.

I will not try to pull you here sooner than you see fit. Even if I wish I could. Part of me believes if I set my mind to doing just that I could succeed. I know you have your reasons, that there are things that need to be done before you are here with me. As I have told you before, I will always wait for you and be patient with what you must do. As before, do what you must for I will be here when the time is right. I trust you, Katerina. Which means if you say this wait and your planned time here in Mystic Falls is needed or the only way...then it is.

Pearl and Annabelle have become people I can see one day as the only family, outside of you, that I will ever need or wish for. I had thoughts that you had sent them here partly for my benefit as I mentioned in my last letter, but knowing those thoughts were correct? I continue to fall more and more in love with you. Constantly, you show me in actions how much you do love me and care for me, that I am wanted. To know my love, loyalty, and feelings are returned just as deeply means more than you will ever know. All I can hope is that I can do the same for you.

You tell me not to worry about vervain but as you say it can harm you if you feed on someone who has consumed it. My Heart, if a vampire ingests vervain, the vampire's throat and digestive tract will be burned. You would become feverish and extremely weak. I have seen what it does to the flesh of your kind if even the plant comes into contact with your skin. You cannot tell me to not worry when it exists in this world. The amount in this town turns my stomach. I have asked Pearl to help me do my best to avoid it for your sake. Though it seems the council here has plans for it, plans my father is a part of as a way to try and get back into the community's good graces. He has no idea that I am aware of that or my knowledge of those that walk among us. Something I plan to always keep from him, it may come in our favor one day.

I am not certain if it only grows here. It is a plant that grows at the base of white oak trees, we have a higher concentration of those trees but surely it grows elsewhere? If I can I will see what I can learn. I feel that research may have to wait until we are free of this town. But I will still try until then.

You have never broken a promise to me yet nor given me reason to doubt you, so I will believe in the promise that you will be safe.

Lavender will now be a smell that I always associate with you, once more you take control of something small in my life. You do consume me and are always in my mind--always a part of everything I do. My anxieties, worries, and darker thoughts are all rooted in this town. They have created them, fed them, and caused their growth as the years have gone by. This town has taken much of me, I just do not wish for it to either take you or harm you. The idea of Vervain is not my only concern but you know that. My worries are always far away when I am with you, however. As silly as it might sound, you chase the demons away. You make me stronger and braver. Or at the very least you show me who I could be, who I could grow to be with your helping hand and love.

The Falls much like my favorite oak tree--not white oak I have checked-- is a place no one ever searches for me. They are peaceful and beautiful. A part of nature that has been untouched and left alone. The sound of the water going over the cliff soothes me. The fall is from what I can guess is at least fifteen foot drop, it’s highest point as tall as some of the trees below it. The pool of water below it is just as deep, if not more. Though I have not swum to the bottom since meeting you or jumped from it’s peak, though Annabelle did try to convince me. I was tempted to jump once more but I know you would not be pleased if something happened when you were not with me or if something more ill fated than being harmed happened. It leads into a river, wide and long. After it rains, the water is too dangerous to get in or be near as it then flows so much quicker. But I do love to watch it. Harper will bring you a few of my sketches of the area so you may see it. I still plan to take you there, my dearest heart. It will be one of our adventures.

I promise you, there is nothing to be jealous of. No one should ever cause jealousy within you. My heart belongs to you and no how close I become with another--such as Annabelle--that will never change. Some say jealousy is a darker emotion, one that can lead a person to become controlling. I do not believe that. Jealousy, to a point, is healthy. It shows the depth of your love. Others would argue it shows insecurity. Maybe we are both correct. But it just means one does not wish to lose another. I know I will become jealous of others near you, I will not deny it as something that will happen. But I hope you will see it as I do when it happens. I never wish for you to change--dare I say the jealousy you admit to makes me feel ways I didn’t know I could. I enjoy it.

Stefan has never seen me truly be friends with another before, female especially. You know the tale of my first kiss, how Father reacted when Damon told him of catching myself with Abigail Sommers. She had been my only friend, only allowed by both our parents because of our families connections. The view of being me being demonic or a punishment to my parents for the way I was born made it hard to find friends. Now with the town's knowledge of my alignment, makes it even harder. So Stefan simply believes every woman I talk to or try to befriend is someone I seek to have more with.

His mind believes the way of the church, Katerina. His words and actions over the years showing that. So there is no possible way his mind will ever be able to wrap around the fact two women could be together. It makes me laugh to picture his face when he learns of our love---especially once he has seen your beauty and met you. How could someone as posed, beautiful, and a true lady in the world's eye ever be so sinful and dark as to love me? A question that will no doubt be his as it is no longer one of mine. I will behave how you ask of me in front of the town and do as you ask regarding my brothers, but I will not go as far as to not spend time with you or appear as your friend. Part of your reason for being here is for me, I intend to take advantage of that. Not to mention, could you truly be so close to me and deny yourself my heart? I could not and I will not.

My father’s life is to do with as you please. I know many would recoil from you for those words or thoughts of murder, but I will not. The act of you killing him, torturing him, may actually give me pleasure and peace as well. I am not strong enough, physically, to do it myself. He does not deserve to be a part of this world but yet he acts as if this life is God given right and his actions have no consequences. He is vile and the scum of this earth truly.

Your possessiveness is showing my love. It thrills me. Others might disrespect that claim, but not Pearl nor I. There is nothing in this world that could ever make me drink the blood of a vampire that is not you. I know the offer would only come either at the dire need for me to heal, a situation that is not what we have planned for my time to turn, or if you knew you would be able to insure I was not going to die shortly after. I know to deny any that tries to give me some, you’ve made sure of that. Your friendship and trust in Pearl is well founded and centuries old, she knows better my love.

Speaking of Pearl, she has mentioned the thought of possibly having me wear something with Vervain within it to keep the vampires in this town--one’s that she is unsure of their loyalty to you as the number seems to grow each time we speak-- away from me. I do not know if I agree with this. Could it harm you and is it something that you would want? Only a gift from you will ever find a way to my skin that is potentially dangerous to you.

Enjoy the sketches and I will wait for your reply as always.

Eternally yours, Lee

#the love letters #love letters series: 1864 #v: right kind of wrong

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pastelbatfandoms · 4 years

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Get to know My OC-Suzie Q

Get to know my character

Doing this for My OC Suzanna, of The Walking Dead.

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded? I picked Suzanna (spelled with a z because I thought it looked cool) because I liked that Negan would call her Suzie Q.

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness? Sex lbr,Sue isn’t above being seduced,or doing the seducing either. But only around Merle,Negan or The Governor,who can easily get her to do what they want and they know this.

03. Something they like about themselves? Her Strength and resilience.

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical) I’ll start with her first boyfriend Merle Dixon,who she had been with since before the turn.

Mentally: Would have to be Merle’s humor (crude or not),how he flirts (with her anyway),his cockiness,How protective he is and how unpredictable.

Physically: I mean Merle may not be everyone’s cup of tea (or bottle of whisky) but with those baby blue eyes,that mischievous grin,those arms and that swagger,he sure is Sue’s. Oh did I forget to mention she has an older man kink? ;)

Next would be Suzanna’s other lover,who she met in Woodbury,of course I mean Philip Blake aka The Governor.

Mentally: Suzanna was attracted to his intelligence,his quiet confidence,leadership qualities and that mysterious aura he seemed to have around him.

Physically: That smile,those eyes,his body isn’t half bad either,but it’s his charm and darkness that really attracts her.

Now onto her current lover Negan,leader of The Saviors. How she met him is a tad more complicated...

Mentally: Suzie loves his confidence,humor,and leadership skills,as well as his growth as a person. To her Negan is almost like Merle and Philip rolled into one.

Physically: I mean Negan is hot,anyone can see that! Especially when he first showed up,those Daddy good looks coupled with that swagger and dangerous smirk. Yeah Suzie definitely fell for him,even when she tried not too.

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type? Definitely Confident. Though she didn’t have much experience until she met Merle.

06. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying? lol it’s the zombie apocalypse,what hobbies? Sue’s men are pretty open to whatever she likes,especially Negan since she met him after the turn where pretty much anything goes.

07. Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)? No though she tends to steal some of Negan’s phrases like ‘Easy Peasy’

08. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it? Um the fact that she has no self control lol maybe because of the fact that she grew up in a religious household. Her weakness for the bad boys,or worse.

09. Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday? NOT Summer or Winter since they’ve almost died during both. Maybe Autumn or Spring. Holiday,what’s that? They don’t even know what YEAR it is now let alone day.

10. Is your character more feminine or masculine? A mixture of both.

11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage? Well her bloodlust kinda kicked in after being with Negan,besides that probably being pushed by one of Negan’s Wives and having her loyalty questioned.

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up? Her Survival instincts & fighting skills,give those up and she might as well be Walker food.

13. What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Blanket stealer? One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker? She’s a light sleeper anymore and has a hard time sleeping on her own.

14. Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates? Suzie was adopted by Hershal as a young Teen,after the zombie apocalypse happened she got separated from her family and traveled with The Dixon’s where they found a camp,she got separated after reuniting with her family,where she met Michonne,they traveled together until Woodbury where she found Merle again. After that whole thing with The Governor and Rick’s group,Sue went into hiding,until she found out she was pregnant and went to find Rick,Daryl and the rest. They traveled together and finally settled in Alexandria,until The Saviors came and after much bloodshed and fighting,Sue joined them,becoming Negan’s wife.

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear. Not really,though her and Philip did not end on good terms and she really cannot stand Simon.

16. Is your character the athletic type or more of a couch potato? What are some sports/games that they like? lol Definitely more of The Athletic type now. She was super girly when Merle first met her.

17. Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children? Technically she is married to Negan and she has two children.

18. What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode? She really doesn’t care as long as her family is with her.

19. Would your character be the kind to get into fights? (physical or verbal) Would they be a good fighter or cave in rather easily? She tended to avoid them as a Teen,letting her BFF take the lead,but now yeah she can be pretty hot headed and the only time she caves in is when it’s one of her men.

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures? Dogs all the way.

21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear? Losing her children,like she lost her family and Merle.

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have? Other then her hair changing from Blonde to Brown constantly,no.

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved? Sue didn’t really like school but her parents were strict so she had to maintain straight A’s.

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like? Personality wise? Since she’s currently with Negan,I’ll just describe him. I’d say to the outside world he’s Smart,A leader,Dangerous,unpredictable,cocky and self assured. To Suzie (and later on when he loses everything) he still is all those things,especially when they first meet,but he’s more open with her,serious and has his morals,he won't hurt or kill children or those that he feels don’t deserve it and he doesn’t rape either,Negan also has deep rooted pain from losing his wife Lucille.

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day? I would say losing Merle,Her Father and a sister in Beth still effects her a bit, Also almost dying at the hands of her former lover (Who also killed her Father and Merle)

26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc? I made A-Z NSFW Headcanons for The Governor and Merle already,I might make one for Negan as well,but their are already really good ones of him out there!

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it? Well there really isn’t any law anymore but before the turn it would probably be for doing something stupid with Merle like underage drinking.

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for? lol idk maybe acting.

29. What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one? Almost sacrificed her life.

30. When it comes to the arts (music, film, theater, etc), what does your character like? Not much in the way of tv now,but before she liked watching Zombie and B Horror movies,also going out to parties,and listening to her sister Beth sing,watching Wrestling with Daryl and his GF,her BFF,Carol Lynn,dressing up to go out with Merle,she still likes Decorating,Negan’s pretty much let her decorate there room however she likes.

31. Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what? Yes she has,mainly Zombies but she has killed people before out of necessity and protection.

32. If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do? As long as she’s with them she doesn’t really care. Her first date with Merle was at a restaurant/Bar,then they went dancing at a club and then back to his place...With The Governor it was sharing drinks out in the garden,though if he had a choice Philip would have taken her out to a nice restaurant. Suzie didn’t really have a conventional first date with Negan but they have their quiet nights alone,candle lit dinners,kinky sex ;) Negan also spoils her with presents every time they go out.

33. If your character wanted to be alone, where would they go? Her Room...lol seriously though,what alone time? Though sometimes her and the other wives hang out in Eugene’s room,playing video games and drinking if they need an escape.

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc) Breakfast Foods mainly.

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go? Not much anymore,though she is afraid of leaving her kids behind.

36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life? No

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them? Being hit on,especially when she’s taken. Her men flirting with someone else.

38. What kind of weather does your character like? Cloudy skies, rainy days, sunshine, etc? As long as it’s not an extreme weather,she really doesn’t care.

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? Well as Negan said when they first met “You are such a badass!” and he’s not wrong. Others may think she’s easily manipulated and maybe she is,at first.

40. Does your OC have any guilty pleasures they enjoy? Hobbies, past times, music, etc that they wouldn’t want known by others? Not really,she did try and hide her kinkier side with The Governor but Negan pretty much has done away with being ashamed of anything and told her they don’t need to hide that in The Sanctuary.

41. Does your character’s family affect your character in any way? They used to.

42. Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change? Sometimes she regrets meeting The Governor or siding with Negan over Alexandria but Suzie wouldn’t really change it.

43. Does your character have a switch that changes aspects of their personality whether they are around friends, family, etc. Is there someone who gets to see their true self? I think different people see different aspects of her personality and vice versa.

44. Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character? Her Children or Negan dying.

45. Is your character the kind to hide their true emotions or do they wear their heart on their sleeve? A bit of both.

46. What is some random affectionate thing that your character always does to their lover? With Merle,Sue always sat on his lap if he was sitting on a chair or recliner. She does that with Negan too,with The Governor she always kissed his bad eye,if he was having a bad day,just to show him that she still loved him no matter what he looked like..

47. Is your character outgoing? Would they be the leader of the friend group, or the quiet one that gets dragged along? Sue used to be shyer but now she’s definitely more outgoing and a leader.

48. Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious? Again her men flirting with someone else,especially Merle. Negan favoriting another wife over her.

49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood? She used to have nightmares about finding Merle as a Zombie or of The Governor killing her but they have since dissipated.

50. If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say? With Merle it was after their first time and Merle said it first,he was super nervous about it and Sue had to reassure him that she loved him too.

With Philip it was to reassure him that she wasn’t going anywhere,after he lost his eye and turned dark.

With Negan it was during a particularly rare moment of confindment after he told her about Lucille,he didn’t say it back until a few months later when he was absolutely sure,and when he knew she wouldn’t leave him.

#my oc #twd negan #twd merle #the governor #get to know my oc

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lilcutieana · 6 years

Text

Safe Haven ~10 ( Hybrid Baby Bangtan/ ot7 )

Words: 2.4K Genre: Fluff with slight Angst, Hybrid! BTS AU Rating: PG-13 Warnings - None Summary: Some days just end up horrible.

Safe Haven ~ || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine

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I checked my watch for the-- most likely-- twelfth time in the past ten minutes I'd been here waiting, all the while tapping my feet to the non-existent music. With a little red-wrapped present sitting idle in front of me, mocking me every time I glance down at it, I bit my lip in consideration.

Was it all even worth it?

Yes. Yes, it was.

He was phenomenal. Everything about him was captivating. From the delicate way, he handled things, to his eye for precision. From the slight hunch to his walk to the mild woody scent he wore. He calmed me, he made me happy and feel like I was more important than just a caregiver. He reminded me that I was more deserving than what I let myself believe. And for that, I was eternally grateful to have met him five years back in a parent-teacher meeting at the Hybrid High for the Gifted.

That is… Until I saw how happy the mated couples, Jin and Hobi were. I had to doubt my own relationship. It wasn't the same, but then again, I was human and incapable of feeling such profound emotions. I wasn't jealous per say. Not of what others in my own home had...or so I have been trying to convince myself. But I know, deep down, in my heart; I've been pining for someone.

Though the kids formed a major part of my world, there's this tiny part of me that longs for someone. Someone more than family, someone more than a friend. Shaking my head from negative thoughts, I looked around the once bustling cafe. A few patrons huddled together like penguins near the window. They looked adorable in their pastel clothes, while I had been constantly wearing mostly black and grey tones for the past few months, reflecting my dark mood.

Guess Monday mornings weren't as busy of an affair as other days. The students and office workers choosing a more commercial setting over the quaint cafe making it harder for the little businesses around in town. The bittersweet aroma of coffee beans helped soothe my jittery nerves yet the mere idea of being stood up eating away what little patience I'd had. But I trusted my instincts.

He seemed good enough. He was good enough. He had a beautiful soul, he was someone I could envision myself spending rest of my life with. And… Yes.

I'd been dating guys. For a while now. But nothing seemed to quite work. For the most part, it was mostly because of me. I was dating guys to distract myself, to tell myself I needed someone. But did I really? Not exactly. I couldn't back then. The boys were of utmost priority to me. I didn't have enough money or time to spend on myself neither did I have the energy to motivate myself enough to actually put an effort in it. For the most part, my heart wasn't truly into it. And I'd decided not to ever do something that my heart didn't want but my brain thought it's a good idea. It probably never is.

Sighing, I shook my head and glared at my watch for moving too slow. And just then I caught a glimpse of bright orange, bordering on neon; pass by the window. Blinking once, twice, thrice… I was flabbergasted. Who'd in this day and age choose to wear something that colorful? Were they trying to replace the traffic signal? Or signal the bears to hunt them?

And then it clicked. It was him. And something was wrong. He wouldn't just be late, neither would he be running across the street, away from me. Letting my half-eaten croissant and a cold cup previously hot cocoa to fend for themselves; I dashed across the checkerboard tiled floor, merely escaping from crashing into strangers and the many trays and cups they carried. Skidding to half with an audible screech from my heels, guaranteeing their demise-- I looked around for a sign of bright orange but couldn't spot anything, anywhere at all.

The door to the cafe shut behind me with a bang. Startled, I yelped and closed my eyes as every eye was staring at me in exasperation and angry frowns. I know, that wasn't quite polite of me in this early of a morning. But I sure had my reasons!

Biting my lips, I looked to my right. As far as I could. And spotted a tiny crowd forming just across the street and sure enough, he was there. With a new purpose, I almost glided across the street. With angry stomps, of course.

I was mad. Not really, I was mostly just concerned, and... I don't even know what I was feeling at the moment. But it was frustrating. He didn't even bother telling me. Was chasing someone and standing in a crowd so important? I waited for about an hour! Or maybe less… It sure felt like an hour to me.

As I reached him. I blinked once, twice, even thrice and proceeded to even wipe my eyes! And yet, the sight before me was no different. He had beautiful snow like ears. And no, it wasn't just the colour, it was in how soft and fluffy the looked. My fingers were trembling from restraining myself, lest I touched him when he clearly hid his ears from the entire world for nearly half a decade. I wondered if he even was aware that his identity was there to see by everyone.

Did it matter? Or was I the only one who didn't know he wasn't completely human.

And his eyes! They were shining like molten silver. Intense and oh so fiery. And the reason was staring him in the eyes, their gaze solemn and defeated as they laid on the ground whimpering.

It reminded me why I had an immense crush on him in the first place. It was those eyes. They demanded attention. They demanded so many things… as soon as they were focused on you. Maybe I spoke to soon. Cause the next thing I knew, those shining eyes were focused right on me. I felt rooted to the spot, unable to even form a smile. I just stared at him as he raised his right eyebrow and slowly blinked-- just like a certain cat I was overly familiar with back at home.

I was about to blink back, smile at him too, that is… Until my eyes focused on the well-manicured ruby red talons on his arm which were showing absolutely no signs of letting go anytime soon. I was… Confused. Did he perhaps… Save her? Was that why she was clinging onto him? There sure was a crowd forming, and a supposed --criminal-- on the streets being glared at. Or was this something else entirely? I just couldn't blame him. He was gorgeous, who wouldn't want to glue themselves onto him.

But… Why today? Why when he was supposed to be with me?

We aren't official the little voice in my head sure knew what I needed to hear. Sure, we weren't. And he was open to dating more people until he knew who the “the one” for him. But At Least, I deserved to know if I was being stood up.

A sharp pang of pain went through my chest. Past insecurities bubbling up on the surface. I couldn't keep the eye contact I'd held with him any longer. Everything around me began to be blurred.

Tears. I was crying over a man who knew me for a little over five years and yet kept silent after making me wait an hour like a fool. Wiping under my eyes, I took a step back. And then another. Watching how his stance changed. Watching how his shoulders sagged. And then, I shook my head. I didn't want him closer. I didn't want his scent on me. I didn't want to hear his voice. My traitorous heart couldn't take it if he made some excuses. I wasn't strong enough. Not now. Not when my mind was absolute chaos. I needed to think. I needed a moment before my thoughts drowned me and I had already taken the dive. I just needed to breathe, I just had to breathe.

“Y/N! Wait…” He screamed. And as if my body was on little strings and he was the puppeteer; my feet stopped on their own accord and I looked him in the eyes once again. The same anguish reflected on his face that probably mirrored mine.

“Why…?”

Did you not come, did you even remember? Did you even care? Did you even want to see me? Do I even matter? A plethora of questions flashed my mind and how I wished I could say out loud, but my lips were tied as he enveloped me in his warm embrace, his caffeine induced sweater a warm welcome to my frantic nerves. His every breath calming my mind and helping me breathe. When he tried letting me go, I shouldn't have held onto him tighter, I should have been the one to let go first. But my arms had a mind of their own and they clutched onto him tighter. My ears didn't want to hear the people gasping around and leaving the scene. I didn't want to hear how the girl right behind his back was cursing at him. I didn't want to see anything. Just a little more, and I can let him go.

“I'm sorry, Y/N. I'd… I...I am...” He whispered in a resigned tone. His voice huskier from holding back tears, perhaps? Was I hurting him that much? Or was he reflecting my emotions?

“Why?” I murmured into his sweater, hoping he would tell me it was nothing but a huge misunderstanding.

“I found her. She's my mate. I...” I couldn't hear anything more. My ears were ringing. My heart drumming inside my head. And just one word and an image flashed across my mind.

Mate. They were mates.

Of course.

He was a hybrid. He'd have one. One that isn't me. I was never a priority. I never would probably be. It was like a splash of ice cold water over my head. I… Couldn’t take it anymore. Stepping back from his embrace as he continued whispering apologies. I hoped they were apologies. I shook my head and somehow managed a smile. Barely. I'm sure it was faker than the mistletoes hanging around every Christmas. Chuckling to myself, at my own luck, I looked up to the sky. How was I supposed to know? How am I supposed to react? Do I just say ‘it's okay, congratulate him, and what? Move on?’

It wasn’t that easy. I wasn't as strong. I'd only started to let myself fall for him. His eyes, his scent, his voice. The way he said my name, the way he always wore mismatched shoes, or how he sometimes ate with his left hand instead of right. How he liked ketchup over scrambled eggs and how he hated fries without seasoning. He was adorable in every way. And yet so strong. So determined. So... Lovely.

And yet… It wasn't me. I wasn't the one he waited for. I wasn't the one he saved. I wasn't the one he loved. “Did you ever…” choking back a sob, I looked to the side. His eyes too intense for me. “love me?”

“I still do. I love you, Y/N!” He shook his head and with a giant step, was towering over me once again. I felt so small. I felt like he was about to swallow my entire being. He shouldn't have said that. He was lying. Why was he lying?

“But I just found her today, and my heart feels confused. I need time to figure things out. Please… I’m just as torn as you are. Believe me.”

“Lies. All lies.” I bit my trembling lips. “I have seen mates. Nothing is instant. You don't even realize until you've spent enough time. You're lying!” I snarled. Panting, I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see him anymore. So what if I wasn't a hybrid. I have seen Jin and hoseok with their mates so often, I know what it's like. It's them and their flaunting of how sweet relations are that I had found a sweet escape. And yet….

“Noona!”

My chaotic mind was finally at rest. And this time, it was because of Namjoon. I was glad somehow. And a bit annoyed. He must have followed me. A kind, gentle hand encircled my shoulder and pulled me into a warm chest. From his scent alone, I could tell it was Jimin. Smiling to myself, I didn't bother turning back.

“I know how much a mate means to a person. Keep her happy.”

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

“Whaf ‘appened?” Jungkook asked with his mouth stuffed with marshmallows. Now I know where they went. It wasn't Jimin. It was kookie who stole it all.

“Bad day. Come here.” Extending my arms, I waited till he came closer and then held him by the ear. Even though it was soft and silky, and I was yearning to pet them, I refrained myself.

“Why did you lie when I asked the other day?” I asked sternly. Trying my best not to smile as I watched him squirm.

“Yeah! It wasn't me, Noona! See…” Jimin piped up from behind.

“I know now.” Smiling, I let go of Jungkook’s now pink flushed ears and ruffled Jimin’s hair until his pout turned to a smile only for it to drop as soon as Yoongi entered the room.

There was always slight tension between the two ever since they entered puberty. I just hoped it didn't last too long.

“So…”

Looking around, I spotted the flier Namjoon had collected a while back and smirked.

“How about we order in today?” A chorus of excited yeses made me smile.

Some things never change. And I couldn't be happier. This was my own safe Haven. Nothing. Absolutely nothing would damage it. I'd always be happy and safe, as long as the boys were with me. They would be. Won't they?

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~Tagged ~

@dreadity @im-emo-motherfuckers @xanny91 @oyasumi7@blackmaylovesfries @catkiecookie @noonaofkookie @thenyousaidhello @silveroccamy @boononx@2seokkyo @s0nh4dorasblog @minyoongi-infiresme @bluebirdphantom @love-yourself-moonchild

#bts #bts hybrid au #min yoongi #kpopwonderlandtag #btswritersguild #armyofwritersnet #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #Jung HoSeok #hybrid bts au

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years

Text

the same sunset - chapter three

Chapter three - trashed

Masterlist : add /tsmstorymasterlist after my URL

The music sounding from Carol’s house can be heard all the way to the other end of the street where Billy parks his car in the driveway that leads to nowhere. It seems there has once been a house there but now it’s just a deserted spot being used by teenager to park their cars whenever Carol decides it’s time to throw another rager.

Walking down the street towards the party, Billy can’t help but admire the confidence Cleo seems to emmit. It’s different to his. His is fake and take all the effort in the world to uphold. Hers seems to come natural. No effort at all.

“ You know “ she speaks up as they’re just a few houses away from Carol’s “ you can go in first if you want. They’re gonna talk if they see us arrive together. And I’ll have you know, as hard as it is to believe, I am not the most popular person. So if you don’t wanna ruin that cool brooding bad boy persona you have going on, I understand. They don’t need to see us together. “

“ Don’t make a big deal of it, then they won’t “ Billy replies. Back in California he was a different person. People there had known him since childhood and with them he didn’t ever really have to think about any image he wanted to uphold. He was just Billy. His mullet, the camaro, the music and the jeans. Those were just things that belonged to him as much as Max’ red hair belonged to her. They mean different things now.

In California he was Billy first, all the other things came with him.

Here they saw the car first, the outfits, the attitude. The loud music and the constant unbothered look etched onto his face. And from that they made up their own image of who he was. And it worked in his favor really. He’s adored by the girls and admired by most boys. And if that means he has to pretend not to be bothered by shit than so be it. Seeming numb is easy. He’s gotten a lot of practice at home.

“ Oh boy, you’re so not a small town boy. “ Cleo says and skips ahead of him a few steps, giving Billy a perfect view of her ass in jeans that are fitting like a god-damn glove. He can’t suppress a smirk, thinking back to Pete’s disapproving look back at the diner.

There’s a red solo cup pushed into his hand as soon as Billy enters the house. That awful “I Ran” song is blasting through the stereo and Billy remembers the reason he usually gets shitfaced at Carol’s parties. The music sucks.

Cleo walks further into the room and is swallowed by the crowd before Billy can figure out where she’s going. Only a mess of blonde hair visible as she squeezes herself between the dancing teenagers.

“ You know, when you asked me about her I just thought you were curious. Didn’t think you were into her “.

Of course it’s Tommy who hands Billy the drink, he’s probably been sitting by the door waiting for him to show up. It’s a little sad really, Tommy’s been following Billy around like a lost puppy from day one. But then again, no matter how annoying or clingy he is, Tommy is not a bad guy. He’s just not the brightest crayon in the box but Billy can deal with that. Also he’s Billy’s walking encyclopedia on all things Hawkins High and always knows when and where the parties are happening.

“ Shut up, man. It’s not like that. I uh — I work at her dad’s diner. We were just carpooling here. That’s it”.

“ You have a job ? “ Tommy asks dumbfounded. His eyebrows are raised in question and for a moment it makes Billy angry.

“ We don’t all have a dad who blows money up our ass and buys everything for us, Tommy “

It’s a little harsh, Billy admits that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Tommy’s dad is the owner of some big ass lumber yards all over Indiana, dispensing wood to all kinds of high class furniture stores to make fancy sofas for fancy people, like Tommy’s dad.

Billy’s met him a few times and he seems to have zero backbone and the personality of a sponge but his wallet is wide open. Probably to make him feel better about not giving a proper shit about his son. As long as Tommy doesn’t get too out of line, his dad doesn’t really pay him any attention. He’s supposed to take over the business someday in the future. That’s the end game. Everything until then doesn’t really matter.

“ Hey sorry, man. That’s not what I meant. I think it’s cool you’re working. Do you think you can get us a discount if we come around ? “

Billy only shakes his head, a smirk finding a way onto his lips again. Tommy’s a fucking nuisance most of the time, like everything and everyone in this place. But he’s honest and Billy can appreciate that a whole lot.

“ Dunno. “

As he takes a drink from the cup, Billy immediately regrets his decision. It tastes like Cranberry juice and disappointment. Whatever vodka concoction they’ve mixed together, it fucking blows. Like a prom punch spiked by some over enthusiastic junior.

“ Thomas, show me where the beers are and we can see about that discount “ Billy says and throws his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. If he was gonna enjoy this party, bad music and shitty drinks and all, he needs beer. Lots of it.

- OOO -

Billy’s hands softly trail down the path of Erika Kapelsky’s curves. There’s some Bon Jovi song playing over the speakers and she seems to go wild on that stuff. Her ass has been rubbing his crotch for the last 5 minutes. At this point he is 99.9% sure he’s gonna score big time. He’s heard she gives great head. That she’s flexible too.

“ I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Take me home when I come back ? Parents are on a business trip “ she murmures into his ear and softly bites his lobe as she pulls away.

That’s the good thing about rich kids, Billy thinks. Their parents are always on some uber important trips for work. It’s like they’re preaching abstinence and safe sex and then do everything in their power to make sure their kids get laid as much as possible. Like leaving them alone in a big ass mansion.

“ Sure “ he agrees and watches her walk away, hips swaying dramatically. She knows how to put on a show.

“ Erica huh ? Nice one, dude “ it’s like as soon as he is alone Tommy gravitates back towards Billy. Sometimes it makes him feel like he has an actual friend. Other times it’s just annoying.

“ Yeah “ as Billy looks towards the door Erica has just disappeared through, his eyes catch movement coming from the hallway next to it.

The big mess of blonde curls on Cleo’s head is bobbing up and down as Cleo hurries down the hallway. There’s stains of what Billy assumes is the shitty prom punch all over her shirt and she’s … crying ?

He doesn’t know for sure but she’s angry that’s obvious. Her lips are pulled into a scowl and her eyebrows are furrowed. She squeezes her way through the crowd and towards the door.

For a moment Billy wants to follow. Wants to figure out what happened, if she’s crying and why. He doesn’t though.

Not his mess. Not his problem.

That’s something his dad always says. It’s a motto that’s been drilled into Billy’s head ever since he was a kid.

He remembers when he was just a little boy, maybe 5 years old. Back in California when his mom was still alive. They didn’t have shit back then but a tiny house and a rusty old car. His mom was working at a beach hut in the mornings, selling overpriced postcards and plastic seashell necklaces to tourists. Dad was constantly between jobs, saying that he just hadn’t found the right one yet. Truth is, no one wants to hire a raging alcoholic.

They didn’t have much back then but Billy liked the house, liked the neighbourhood, because there were kids there. One of them was Gracie Tempers. She lived across the street and she came over to Billy’s house a lot because her mom was working late and Billy’s mom was home in the afternoon to have an eye on the kids.

Gracie’s mom would always come and pick her up, never her dad. And she always had a cup of coffee with Billy’s mom. She was crying a lot but back then little Billy had no idea what was going on. She had a lot of black eyes too.

One night Billy couldn’t sleep so he snuck towards the kitchen, hoping to find his mother still awake so he could ask for a warm milk with some honey, his mom’s special.

Instead he found mom and dad arguing, again. When he heard Mrs. Tempers’ name he decided to hide behind the door and listen. They were yelling. Actually it was mostly his dad. Actually it was only his dad. His mom was talking in a quiet hushed voice. So timid. So scared. She wanted to help Mrs. Tempers. Wanted to “ call the cops “ Billy didn’t know what was going on then and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Mom always said the police was someone you could go to whenever you needed help. Dad called them corrupt pigs.

Anyway. She wanted to call the cops and “get her away from him”. Billy didn’t know who “he” was either.

But no matter how hard she was pleading, how reasonable she was explaining. Dad’s booming voice kept repeating “ This is not your mess, Rebecca ! Not your problem ! “.

Cleo isn’t’ his mess either. Isn’t his problem.

So instead of going after her, Billy turns back towards the door waiting for Erica to be done so he can take her home and create a whole different kind of mess.

- OOO -

The cold air nips at Cleo’s nose as she walks down the street of this seemingly perfect suburban hell.

She should’ve known better. That’s the bottom line of it all. Should’ve known that showing up with Billy Hargrove would cause unwanted attention. Negative attention. That people would take it as some kind of threat to their social status.

Tina has always been a mean person. Someone that doesn’t lash out but observes. She schemes and calculates and figures out where to hit people so it hurts the most and leaves the most damage.

And whether she does it just out of pure spite or because she has some deep rooted insecurities that she wants to hide behind her malice, Cleo doesn’t know. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway.

What matters is that Cleo should’ve known better. Billy is all Tina wanted since the moment he stepped foot onto the grounds of Hawkins High. And when Tina feels even a little threatened in getting what she wants, she knows exactly how to retaliate.

Cleo roughly wipes away the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Tina’s opinion shouldn’t matter. Her words shouldn’t matter. And really, they don’t. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.

And it’s not even the stuff about Cleo that hurt. It’s the stuff she said about her mom. Those things cut deep. Those things, Tina really doesn’t know shit about. But the worst thing ? Carol stood there and she said nothing and she did nothing. Just turned away as if she hadn’t held Cleo’s hand at her mother’s grave. As if she didn’t take care of her when she had a panic attack the night before the funeral.

As if she hadn’t been an important part of her life for so long. For the good times, but especially the bad times.

Sure they aren’t friends anymore, fair enough. But does that mean all that once was is erased and means nothing anymore ?

The air stings against Cleo’s bare arms, clings to the wet patches on her shirt. This night is a complete and utter mess and she should’ve known better.

There’s a light still burning on the porch and one in the living room. No matter how easy going her dad always pretends to be, he’s still a dad. A dad who acts like he got caught up watching old football games but really deliberately stays up to make sure his girl is getting home okay.

On one hand, Cleo is eternally grateful for the wonderful dad she has. On the other hand, it makes hiding stuff so much harder. Like tear stained cheeks. And punch soaked shirts. And anger. And sadness.

“ Hey kid, I — Cleo ? “ the smile on her dad’s face immediately falls as he takes note of her obvious misery.

“ It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m okay, can we — can we not talk about it ?”

Ever since Cleo was a kid, mom was responsible for the emotional stuff. The long talks and the cheering up. For the rough stuff. The sad stuff.

Dad was the goof who went and bought entirely too much ice cream and put on her favorite movie even though they’d all seen it a million times before.

Ever since her mom was dead, that kind of shifted. Dad had to be both, the goof and the emotional support system. And it is weird for everyone involved. Neither Cleo nor her dad are particularly good at talking about their feelings so after a while they put a system in place that seems to work for them both.

If one doesn’t talk about it on their own accord, no questions are being asked. It’s easier that way. Or maybe they just pretend it’s easier. Either way, Cleo is grateful about that system right now. Because how would she even begin to explain that it all starts and ends with that fact that her mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for her ?

“ Uh — yeah sure. Sure. “

“ Cool, thanks “ she nods and walks towards the stairs. As she is about to round the corner, her dad’s voice echoes through the halls, calling out to her.

“ Cleo ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ There’s some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Just — just if you need it. “

And for the first time since running into Tina, a small smile finds its way onto Cleo’s face.

- OOO -

Billy’s head feels like exploding. Like he’s in a comic and a big ass anvil has been dropped down on him.

The morning sun is shining brightly but the air is cold as he climbs out of Erika’s bedroom window and walks down the street lined by identical houses with identical white fences. There’s perfectly cut lawns, even in the winter, and the frost clings onto the grass making it glimmer in the sun.

The mailboxes are pridefully displaying the names of the families, some of which Billy recognizes from school. Of course people would want others to know they live here. These houses are massive.

He wonders if the people here are genuinely happy or if they have to play pretend, just like he does. He wonders if things were different would his family live in one of these houses. If Neil wasn’t such a fuck up and actually had a proper job that could provide the family with a better living situation, would he be less angry? Would Billy be ?

After a few minutes of passing big ass houses and pristine lawns and picket fences and artsy mailboxes, he arrives at his car.

There’s noticeably less cars here now than there were last night. Next to his Camaro is Tommy’s car which means he’s probably stayed over at Carol’s last night. Whatever those two have, Billy thinks, is a big old mess. They’re constantly at each other’s throats. Either fighting or making out. It’s exhausting for him, and he’s only watching from the sidelines.

Billy slumps down into the driver’s seat of his beloved Camaro. It smells like leather and cigarettes and honestly, it’s a smell that’s become incredibly comforting to him. His car is so much more than just a status symbol. It’s his way out. His escape. When things at home get too bad he can always get in his car and drive around. Aways from the yelling. Away from his father’s anger.

Away from home.

He turns towards the passenger side of his car, itching for a cigarette and hoping to find on in the glove compartment. Instead he’s faced with Cleo’s denim jacket discarded on his passenger seat.

He wants to ignore it. Pretend it isn’t there and just wait for her to come and get it. That’s another thing you learn in the Hargrove household. Don’t let your shit lying around or it’s gone. Neil never had any respect for any of Billy’s things so if he wasn’t being careful with it, Neil would just throw it in the trash.

He wants to ignore Cleo’s jacket so badly. But he can’t. He doesn’t.

- OOO -

The Finch’s two story home is painted a pale blue color. There’s paint chipping from the doorframes and the windows. The front yard looks clean enough but it’s not even close to the front yards he’s seen in Carol’s neighbourhood.

Their little white mailbox says “Finch” in what seems to be the handwriting of a young child. There’s 4 handprints. One big one that he bets belongs to Pete. A bright red one that he can only imagine belongs to a slightly younger version of Cleo. There’s a teeny tiny one that he’s sure is Charlie’s. Then there’s another one. It’s smaller than Pete’s but only slightly bigger than Cleo’s.

His heart drops a little at the realization of who’s handprint it is.

He wonder how she does it. How she lives through losing her mother and doesn’t end up resenting the whole world for it, like he does. He wonders if things would be different if Neil wasn’t such a piece of shit and actually gave a damn about Billy and his grief and this perpetual feeling of anger and bitterness. If he had someone like Pete in his life, would things be — ok ?

His mind drifts back to Cleo’s words from that time in the diner when she made them grilled cheese “Things are rough all over”. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re rougher for some though.

Denim jacket grasped tightly on one hand, Billy walks up the porch steps towards the door with the chipped white paint and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to say to Cleo when she answers, if she answers. It’s not like he cares about her particularly much or about the fact that she was klutzy enough to leave her jacket, in the middle of November no less.

He’s not sure why he’s here in the first place. Maybe because her crying face has sneaked it’s way into the back of his mind every one in a while since last night.

Or maybe because he feels guilty for not bringing her home safe as he had told Pete he would.

Or maybe because he was curious about what happened.

Or maybe all of the above.

Though it’s not Cleo that opens the door. It’s a wild mop of bright red hair and a smile missing one tooth.

“ Billy ? “ Charlie asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“ Hey. ‘s Cleo home ? “

“ No. Why ? “

He hated being questioned. There’s hardly any privacy at home. Every part of his life seems to be considered public property to Neil. Secrets are dangerous. So when you are asked, you either answer or you face the consequences.

“ She left her jacket in my car. Hey where is she ? “

“ What does it matter ? “

“ I wanna give it back “

“ You can just leave it here. She’ll be back home eventually. “

Charlie seemed nice enough for a kid that one time he met her, but Billy can’t deny that right now she’s seriously testing his patience.

“ I know I can but I want to give it to her personally. If that’s okay with you of course. “ he snaps at her and immediately feels bad as he sees the sliver of uncertainty and — fear in her eyes.

“ Look — “ he starts and pinches the bridge of his nose “ — I let her leave the party alone last night and I feel bad about it, okay ? So just tell me where she is and I’ll give this thing back and say sorry and then we can go back to seeing each other at work and that’s it .”

Charlie bites her lip in uncertainty. Billy can see her considering all options. Finally settling on the thought that her sister deserves an apology if Billy is willing to give one, Charlie grants him a small smile and replies “ you know where the old junk yard is ? “

- OOO -

The november sun stands high up in the sky when Billy arrives at the junkyard. There’s a lot of shit lying around. Mostly tires and bottles, pieces of wood, half gutted cars and a variety of metal signs that seem like the used to decorate the shop fronts of Hawkin’s downtown once upon a time.

He spots Cleo the moment he steps out of his car. She’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a gray sweater that looks 2 sizes too big for her and falls off of one shoulder. Her blond curls are pulled into a messy ponytail but a few strands have escaped and frame the side of her face.

The thing that makes him wonder though, is the baseball bat clutched rightly in her hand.

He can her Black Sabbath playing loudly from small radio propped up on an old oil drum.

The pebbles are crunching beneath his boots as he approaches her and when she lifts her head, Billy can see nothing but annoyance in her eyes.

“ The hell are you doing here ? “ she asks, her voice rid of all her usually bubbliness.

“ You left your jacket in my car. You know, where I come from girls do that to make boy call them back. “ he says and smirks. He knows that wasn’t her intention but if there’s an opportunity to tease, Billy sure as hell isn’t gonna let it go.

“ Well here it just means that I forgot my jacket. Sorry to hurt your ego. “

“ Oh it doesn’t. Trust me. “

His gaze moves from her towards the baseball bat, then back to her. “ What the hell are you even doing with that thing ? “

Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s tiny and barely there but he can notice it anyway.

“ Break stuff. “

She accompanies her words with a swing of the bat , slamming it into one of the rusting cars. There’s the crashing of metal and glass and the music all mixing together to create a melody of absolute chaos.

Cleo pulls back again and places another hit against the vehicle. Then another. And a fourth before she blows one of the stray curly away from her face and glances at Billy through the corner of her eye “ you wanna try ? “

He shrugs and takes the bat from her hand. “ You gotta make it count though. “

“ The hit ? “

“ Mmh “ Cleo nods then hoists herself up on the hood of another car.

And Billy makes it count. Not the first time. But when Cleo calls out to him to “ think of something that makes you really fucking angry “ he puts his all in the hit.

He thinks of his mother dying. His friends who don’t bother calling. His dad. All of it. Everything.

It’s like with every time the bat descends onto the metal, his shoulders feel a little lighter. Like he gets to let go of his anger for a moment there and channel it all into the task of destroying the damn car. It’s what it feels like whenever he gets into fights only without the stupid consequences.

“ Feels good ? “ Cleo asks, sipping on a bottle of what he assumes is beer.

And when he looks up at her he can’t help but smile. Genuinely smile “ feels awesome! “

- OOO -

The two teens are lounging on the hood of an old Cadillac from the 50s sipping on their beers and watching the sun slowly set behind the trees. The junkyard sits atop a hill and you can just make out the outskirts of Hawkins from up here.

“ Why’d you come ? You could’ve just left the jacket at my place and leave. “ Cleo asks, eyes trained on the horizon.

“ What do I know. Thought I owed you this much. “

“ Why would you owe me ? “ she still doesn’t look at him but as Billy glances at her, he can see her pull her eyebrows together in confusion.

“ I saw you crying and I — ugh I don’t know okay ? Just wanted to see if you’re alright. Don’t make a big deal of it. “

She doesn’t. It makes her smile anyway.

“ Well thanks “

“ Whatever. “

For a moment it’s silent then Billy speaks up again.

“ What was that about anyway ? The whole crying thing ? “

“ They talked shit about my mom “ Cleo says and takes the last sip from the bottle before throwing it against the mount of trash making it break into little pieces.

“ That sucks. She’s dead right ? “ It might sound heartless and brash to some but Billy hates it when people sugarcoat stuff to him for no reason and something tells her Cleo isn’t that different when it comes down to it.

“ Yup. Yours too, huh ? “

Billy nods “ Yeah “

“ What happened ? “

“ Cancer. Yours ? “

“ Car accident. “

“ Fuck. “

“ Yes. Fuck. “

Billy turns his head to the side so he’s facing her and Cleo follows suit soon after.

“ That why you come here to break shit ? “ he questions, taking his last sip of beer then following Cleo’s earlier action of breaking the bottle against the pile of trash.

“ I was — so frustrated. With everything. I knew Tina was gonna talk smack when she sees me showing up with you but deliberately bringing up my dead mother to hurt me ? That’s low. “

“ That’s fucked up. “

“ That’s a highschool girl who feels threatened “

Billy lets out a humourless laugh “ It’s not fair though. She doesn’t know what the hell it feels like to lose your mom. You shouldn’t have to deal with her using that to hurt you just because she thinks her pussy is some kind of otherworldly experience that gives her the power to rule this trash pile of a town. For the record, it’s not. “

Cleo snickers and Billy thinks she looks fucking cute when she does it.

“ Can I ask you something ? “ Billy wonders, looking at Cleo expectandly.

“ I guess. “

“ Are you angry ? Because I — I don’t think I have felt anything but anger in so long. I’m so mad at god or the universe of whatever. Whatever is responsible for taking my mom away. My dad — Neil, he’s an absolute asshole. Always has been but mom — mom was good. So why did it happen to her ? It makes no sense and it drives me insane to think about it. It makes me so so furious. “

“ What makes you think I’m not angry ? “

“ You don’t seem angry. “

“ Well I am. I just — life needs to go on, you know. I gotta help dad with the diner and make sure Charlie is happy and healthy. I am angry I just literally do not have the time to dwell on that feeling. “

It makes sense, he think. Back in California life was shit too but he had friends there and stuff to do to take his mind off of things. Hawkins is quiet and empty and boring and his mind gets all the time in the world to think about the sad stuff. The shit that makes him angry.

“ Well look at us sharing sob stories like some kind of dead-moms-club. “ he scoffs but allows a little smile to tug at the corner of his lips which grants him a smile from Cleo in return.

“ Oh shut up, Billy “

And as her laughter echoes through the air and he looks up towards the November sky, he doesn’t feel so angry anymore, at least not for that moment. He’s not happy either but he’s content. And maybe that’s all he can ever ask for. To not feel angry all the time. To get a single moment of relieve. Of lightness. Of ease. Of laughter.

#billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #tsmstorymasterlist

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years

Text

Mental Health Awareness Week: My Story

Hi to anyone who’s reading this!

My name is Lauren and this is my first personal post on my Tumblr (which I’m using because I am a granny who can’t be arsed to work out the basics of Wordpress). My intention in making this blog was ultimately to talk about mental health and fashion and things that interest me and I suppose I knew that ultimately I was going to make a post like this but I just didn’t realise it would be so soon. But then Theresa May lit up Downing Street and it was Mental Health Awareness week and Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness month and I realised, best to just get this out of the way before I can start making excuses to put it off until the end of time. It’s a hard post to make because I don’t exactly know who the audience will be; I’m writing it for the mental health community and anybody who’s interested in what Borderline Personality Disorder is/looks like but I’m also conscious of the fact that one day my family and friends and even potential employers could be reading this. How much detail am I supposed to go into? A lot of people still feel uncomfortable discussing topics like this; they start seeing you a different way when they know you suffer from a mental illness, even though you’re the same person you’ve always been. It’s also hard to know where to start when I’m talking about my mental health. I feel like other posts of a similar nature tend to have a clear start, beginning, and end. A clear cause or inciting incident, one self-explanatory, well-understood diagnosis, and a clear pathway to recovery. I don’t have a single, defining trauma I can pinpoint anything to, and I don’t think I have complex PTSD (which is often conflated with BPD but as I understand it, not always the same thing). I have a family history of mental illness and a series of less significant events that in hindsight might have affected me more than I originally thought, but until I became able to think about concepts such as “mental health” and self-image and relationships in the abstract, I believed that I generally had a pretty happy childhood. My family did their very best and they loved me and we always had a roof over our heads and food on our plates. When I did start to conceptualise my mental health, I kind of thought of it as a wave of depression and insecurities and anxieties that hit me when I was in my early teens. I think this is the same for a lot of people. Only when I got a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (which I will shorten to BPD for the purpose of making this easier to read, lol!) in October 2018 did I question that.

I’ve done a lot of questioning since I got the diagnosis, the same kind of questions that make this post hard to write. Am I really that ill? Am I not just being dramatic? Do I have any right to feel like this given the privilege I have? When in reality, this deep-rooted gut instinct to doubt who you are and what you have a right to feel is an intrinsic part of BPD.

There are 9 key symptoms involved in the disorder, 5 of which must be experienced to a degree that is severe enough to affect your day to day functioning in order to receive a diagnosis. My formal assessment which took place during my stay at an inpatient psychiatric ward in October 2018 revealed I was just on the cusp of receiving a diagnosis; in 5 of the 9 categories I scored highly enough that the symptom was impairing my ability to function, thus I only just qualified (lucky me!). That’s what mental illness is really, a collection of ingrained and/or inherited behaviours that are inhibiting one’s day to day life. With regards to BPD, these 9 behaviours or symptoms are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment (check).

2. Unstable relationships.

3. Unclear or shifting self-image (check).

4. Impulsive, self-destructive behaviours (check).

5. Self-harm (check).

6. Extreme emotional swings (check).

7. Explosive anger.

8. Dissociative experiences (check).

9. Chronic feelings of emptiness (check, check, CHECK).

See, when the diagnosis was first suggested to me informally by a community mental health nurse in June of 2018, I was a bit like…what?! That can’t be me! I don’t have outbursts (it’s okay if you do and you’re working on it)! I don’t scream and throw things (again, okay if you do and are working on it)! And I’m definitely not manipulative (any person can be manipulative so I don’t even know where this one comes from)! That was, like, all I knew about BPD. Stereotypes. Think Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction type bullshit, we’re talking the woman that coined the phrase bunny boiler. I didn’t know that BPD can present in a million different ways, based on the person who’s suffering with it, because I thought BPD was the person. The widespread consensus on BPD isn’t the most humanising. So I hope me explaining how it’s affected my life and the way its presented itself over the years helps in turning the tide, which so many amazing people have already begun to do by sharing their stories. My aim is to do the same.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about the areas in which BPD has affected my life since my formal assessment, in which I felt I learnt a lot more about the disorder. In particular, the idea that I was always this happy child that got hit by a wave of inexplicable, crippling depression once I hit my teenage years. I remember during the assessment, the doctor asking me to talk about my early relationships and it kind of struck me at that moment that I’d been going through this pattern of switching between extreme attachment towards versus extreme devaluation of my relationships with the closest people in my life for as long as I could remember. My first real best friend of several years basically stopped speaking to me (and in hindsight, I do not blame her, lmao!) when we were about 12 because I can only imagine she was sick of me either picking a fight or desperately seeking her reassurance every time she dared to hang out with another friend. I remembered how it felt when she did choose to spend time with somebody else rather than me: “oh my god, she likes them more, she finds me boring, she hates me and she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore! Everything’s over! I’ll never find anyone who loves me like she does because why would they? I can’t go on with my life until I know that she isn’t going to leave me!”. I think at that age, everyone has that shrill inner voice that doesn’t exactly consider logic or react in the most sensible way, but instead of my shrill inner voice going away, it just faded to more of a constantly niggling monotone that continued to affect the way I behaved around other people for years to come. This was just one of the signs that things weren’t as they should be from an early age. I think I was around 13 when the Child Adolescent Mental Health Services (otherwise known as the dreaded CAMHS), whom my parents had initially got me referred to for sleeping problems, diagnosed me with generalised anxiety and social phobia. Social phobia, despite this being its DSM name, is more commonly known as social anxiety. This came about after I had undergone successful CBT for said sleeping problems and thought I’d just drop it in, as you do, that basically, every social interaction felt like I was putting on a desperate show to keep the few remaining people left in the theatre from walking out. I told them that school was emotionally exhausting me. Whilst after the first couple of rocky years of transitioning from primary to secondary school I had developed a close group of friends, I still felt like aside from the closet few of them, absolutely nobody liked me. That was definitely true of some people, but likely not to the extent I envisioned it. I had come to feel, I suspect due to a combination of genes and a few environmental factors, like I was inherently unloveable and annoying, and even though I’m in a good place right now, these are things I continue to struggle with. When you’ve believed these things for so long, to act according to them is second nature.

The thing about BPD is that it’s hard to determine what is a co-morbidity and what is part of The Disorder™. I’m still not quite sure whether my social anxiety was in and of its own issue or if it was driven by the borderline symptom of fearing abandonment. Even recently, during a period of relative stability, I went back to my GP about dysmorphic thoughts concerning my body and appearance as I believe they go beyond the threshold of what is to be expected as part the unstable self-image facet of BPD. Whilst I can accept, for example, that the self-harming and binge eating I began indulging in around the same time I received my anxiety diagnoses were my way of coping with the mood swings and chronic feelings of emptiness I was also experiencing (get me working in the checklist of symptoms here, I imagine this is how film writers feel when they namedrop the movie in the characters’ dialogue), I have a feeling the image issues I have would exist regardless of the influence of the unstable self-image part of BPD. I mean, would perfectionism alone take me to the extremes of punishing myself for missing out on all A*s by an A or two at GCSE and A-level, forcing myself to do a degree I had no particular interest in just because the university was in the single digits in the international league tables, or at one point eating only apples for 10 days until I could barely stand up because I wanted to look like those girls on 2013 emo black and white Tumblr? Probably not. But you don’t need to have an unstable self-image to latch onto the idea that only the very best will do in today’s world, lol (typed with a totally straight face)! Yeah, if the niche that is socialist twitter has taught me anything it’s that, that’s like, late-stage capitalism for you. It’s hard to look at myself and know what is a good quality, or just a character trait, and what is disordered. I think when you call a mental illness a personality disorder, the people who are labelled with it are inevitably going to have that problem.

Surprising absolutely no-one, trying to fit into these ideals I had created and emotionally detaching myself from my friends and family didn’t do any good for my wellbeing. I gave into self-destructive impulses with increased frequency and as I went into sixth form and drifted even further away from the few people I did feel close to, I began to experience derealisation (not depersonalisation, though this is something a lot of people with BPD do experience). This would come under the dissociative experiences symptom of the BPD. It was like my eyes were glass windows and I was just watching life unfold in front of me from the other side. It’s not as if I didn’t have control of my actions, I did, I threw myself into revision, but it all just felt slightly unreal, like I was going through the motions, almost robotically, detached from everyone around me. Everything was muted. Generally, I find that my mood swings between 5 different states: lethargic depression, extreme distress, anxious irritability, an almost mania like sense of confidence and purpose, and a more pleasant calmness. The best way to explain how I experience this switch is that I can almost physically feel the gear of my brain shift, with this change of energy then flowing down to the rest of my body. My thoughts take on a different tone of voice, my body feels heavier, or if I’m going up, it’s like I can feel electricity running and crackling through me. It can happen in a split second, and it can be random, though often it’s triggered by something as small as a phone call or how much I’ve eaten. If multiple plans fall apart at the same time, it can be enough to make me angry at the world and distrustful of everyone in my life, closed off and weighed down. However, back when I was experiencing this derealisation, I remember only really switching back and forth between feeling numb and feeling passively suicidal; I feel like I lost my teenage years to this big, grey cloud of meh-ness that fogged up my brain and obfuscated my ability to regularly feel any positive emotion. To use a cliche, there was this void inside of me that nothing would fill and I had learnt that trying to use relationships to do this was dangerous for me because without sounding melodramatic, it hurt too much when I felt they weren’t reciprocating my love (what a John Green line, lmao).

My fear that people didn’t like me morphed into paranoia that even the people I was supposed to be friends with were ridiculing me the second I left the room; please don’t laugh when I say my greatest pleasure during this time was to go home at lunchtime to avoid having to spend an hour sat with them so I could eat Dairy Milk Oreo, nap and listen to The Neighbourhood (careful, don’t cut yourself on that edge!). I put on a lot of weight due to binge eating, would often leave sixth form early or skip it altogether, and saw my GP, who reestablished my anxiety diagnoses now with an exotic side order of depression. When it comes to NHS services where I live, I’ve kind of won the postcode lottery. There’s a large, conservative elderly population which I’m assuming is the reason our area receives a lot more funding than other, debatably more deserving other areas, and this meant that along with prescribing me the first of many SSRIs I was to try, I was also referred back to CAMHS. I’d been discharged from them about 2 years prior, and what had back then been about a 1 or 2-month waiting list to be seen had doubled in longevity since. I say I won the postcode lottery because, in a lot of places, it’s not uncommon for people to still be waiting to be seen by their local mental health team over a year after they’re first referred. Even so, the help I was offered was very minimal; I met a counsellor once every couple of months that didn’t really specialise in any particular kind of therapy and would kind of just talk at me for the hour I saw her. This was in spite of me expressing suicidal feelings and regularly self-harming.

That being said, by the time I left sixth form, I had finally found an SSRI that worked to blunt the intensity of my social anxiety. I was attending my “perfect” university with my “perfect” grades and (prepare yourself for the twist of the century) I finally managed to get my lazy arse to the gym, and get to that “perfect” weight. I was forming emotional connections with people for the first time in years. On a shallow level, in my first year of uni, things were finally beginning to look up, and yet I was experiencing worse mood swings than ever, becoming more dependent on drugs and alcohol to function through these, and throwing myself into intense friendships where anything less than utmost enthusiasm on the other end of the relationship would send me back into that “oh my god, I’ll never make another friend in my life, I’ll always be alone, I can’t deal with this, the only way to deal with this pain is to end it!” mode. I don’t know why things got so drastic so suddenly. Maybe it was being away from my parents, or maybe it’s just that late teens/early twenties are a time when negative emotions do tend to get more serious after being repressed for years and consequently accumulating. The whole having to be the smartest person in the room to maintain a sense of self shtick was also taking a bit of a hit because university is bloody hard and everyone’s bloody smart and bloody passionate and here I was not even understanding what the assigned reading was trying to say let alone having any brilliant ideas about it to contribute; I was so quiet in one of my seminar groups the lecturer forgot I existed in a class with a grand total of 9 students. Big fish in a little pond to little fish in a big pond syndrome or maybe just more simply put, imposter syndrome, is a real thing and when you struggle with your identity anyway, it’s enough to throw you off completely. I finished that year with a first but I told myself it probably wouldn’t happen again. A couple of days later, feeling shit and overwhelmed, I did what I’d taken to doing to manage my emotions, and got high. The delusional episode ended me up in A&E for self-harm, and when they let me go the next day, I travelled back to my family home and pretended nothing was wrong.

The whole “act like everything’s fine” approach doesn’t work in the long term. 10/10 would not recommend. Without my parents around, when I went back to uni in September, everything fell apart again. I was using drugs every day, either not eating at all or binge eating, self-harming, binge drinking regularly, skipping all my lectures. Honestly, when I think back to that time it’s like I’m watching myself from outside my body. I was feeling very done with the dumpster fire (how very American of me) that was my brain. I was done with the constant 100mph up and down internal monologue. I was done with trying to cope and to hold myself together. I intentionally overdosed multiple times and after one sent me to A&E, my dad brought me home from university. It was a horrible shock for my parents: they knew I was a worrier that could be a little closed off and miserable sometimes, and they were the ones who’d first taken me to CAMHS when I was younger, but they’d struggled with that, and so from then on I’d tried to keep my issues to myself. To be honest, I don’t blame them at all for not realising anything was drastically wrong. I did a pretty good job of hiding my problems; everyone had their own things to deal with and so I became quite adept at internalising my feelings and acting “inwards” rather than outwards. It was also definitely a case of things escalating whilst I was away. With all this in mind, the overdose kind of came out of nowhere for them, but I was so detached from reality I didn’t even consider this at the time. Thankfully, I can’t really remember how they actually reacted either. Benzodiazepines do that to you, a little tidbit of information that all these teen rappers and social media personalities hyping up Xanax fail to mention. I think my dad made the decision to bring me home rather than have me stay in hospital in London, as was offered, because he thought that would be better for me. However, a few days later, after numerous, distressing visits from the crisis team (another name that will be regrettably familiar to anyone who has experienced severe mental health problems before), where I can only assume a lack of time and recourses on their part forced me to repeat what had happened over and over again to the revolving door of staff members, I took another overdose. I had become paranoid that they were out to get me and falsely believed that I was too much of a burden on my family, who were having to take time off work to look after me. This time from A&E, I went on to stay in a psychiatric ward where I was given the formal diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder I mentioned earlier. And it’s here that my life changed forever, I believe for the better.

It changed my life for many reasons. Firstly, it was incredibly validating. To learn that I didn’t have a plethora of different problems but rather one problem, the different facets of which can present themselves in many different ways and affect multiple areas of your life, was so, so reassuring. It not only gave me a clear treatment path but helped me to understand that there was a reason all this was happening. Additionally, the events forced me to open up to my parents and for them to grasp the severity of the situation. After all these years, I finally felt like I had a support system. My parents had always been there before but I had emotionally distanced myself from everyone, and being a “typical teenager” I believed they didn’t understand me (get that angst). I think in retrospect they didn’t understand me because I wasn’t using the right words. I didn’t want to sound dramatic so whenever I spoke to either of my parents about how I felt, I downplayed it a lot. My mum, who works so incredibly hard and has a lot on her plate herself, had a tough upbringing so her approach to me being miserable was pretty much telling me to be grateful for what I had. Had she known what I was really getting at, I know that she wouldn’t have reacted like this to what I was saying. The minute I got my diagnosis, she went out and bought every (mildly offensively titled) book on how to support someone with BPD out there and I learnt today has even been trying to bring an emphasis on mental health into her workplace! She is a wonderful person.

With all this being said, my main piece of advice for other people who are newly diagnosed with BPD or just suffering from any kind of mental health condition is to be brutally honest with the trusted people around you about what you’re dealing with. It will be uncomfortable but I can promise it’ll be worth it. With something like BPD, having a support system who know exactly what you’re dealing with, minus the vagueness and the bullshit, is so, so important. I say this because, despite Theresa’s green lights, neither she nor her party are doing much in the way of providing the funding for professional help. When I first came out of hospital, I had a lot of nights where I felt incredibly depressed, almost as depressed as I did before I went in. Prior to my family knowing about my BPD diagnosis, I would have dealt with these feelings in unhealthy ways but this time, I could go to my mum and stay with her and just cry it out until the feeling passed. That is also a useful sentiment to remember, that the feelings will pass. It’s in the nature of BPD to swing around, when I’m not experiencing a period of depression, and that’s something I find it helpful to remember. I personally really like the Youper app to track my moods because when I do get suicidal, feel anxious or wired, I have something to look at objectively to remind myself that I did feel like this before, in fact, I felt like this yesterday, but a few hours later I told the app I felt okay again. It also helps you to dissect your irrational thought processes and identify “thinking traps”. Meditation, ASMR and CBD are big parts of my life and stability, though I would recommend doing some research into the latter before trying it yourself.

On a less subjective, more physiological level, I notice that my medication really aids my emotional stability; when I have been off it, my mood swings are a lot more intense. So whilst medication isn’t for everyone, it can be something to consider talking to your GP about to see if it could be beneficial for you. Another help is the DBT skills course I completed in March, DBT being the abbreviation of dialectical behavioural therapy, the treatment specifically developed for BPD by Marsha Linehan. If you have time, she’s a great person to do some research into. She herself was diagnosed with what doctors called an “incurable” case of BPD yet she’s gone on to do the most incredible things and help so many people also suffering from the disorder. Not only did DBT provide me with a skill set of more functional coping mechanisms for both interpersonal insecurities and individual struggles, but I liked the fact that once a week I got to be with a group of people who really understood what I’m dealing with and didn’t judge. Even if you can’t find a DBT group, it’s worth checking to see if there are any mental health peer support groups in your area for this reason. I found that being around people who are dealing with similar issues helped me to see my own struggles more objectively; it reminds you that what you’re experiencing is not about you personally and that whilst you may feel isolated, you’re not. The world hasn’t got it out for you. It’s a condition that many people experience. In terms of the feelings of emptiness BPD causes, I have found that since my diagnosis, I’ve actually had more of a sense of purpose in life. On a practical level, having therapy along with a year out of uni and the presence of a constant support system has had me time to get back into writing properly. What I’ve found to be even more rewarding, however, is my participation in the online mental health community.

Something I wasn’t made aware of prior to my diagnosis was the amount of stigma there is still towards mental health issues, Borderline Personality Disorder especially. It really is one of the most demonised mental health issues in and outside of the healthcare system and that’s a hard fact to learn, because it’s a difficult enough condition to learn to manage already without knowing that there are people out there who think you’re a monster for it and are going to judge everything you do through a certain lens. Whilst we are a lot more accepting as a society of conditions like depression and anxiety, conditions such as bipolar, schizophrenia and personality disorders are still greatly misunderstood by wider society who have largely taken their understandings of these illnesses from ill-informed media portrayals and shallow, surface-level observations of a sufferer’s behaviour. I doubt the name “personality disorder” helps matters; it’s hardly the most flattering description of what we’re dealing with I’ve ever heard. I’ve found that even mental health professionals and other mental illness sufferers have a negative bias towards BPD. There’s a widespread view that we are dangerous, manipulative individuals who choose to be difficult and act erratically, that our behaviour is not “organic” like that produced by other mental health problems. I have no idea where the latter assumption comes from. Most experts on the condition tend to agree that the mood swings, impulsive, destructive behaviour, and irrational thinking originate in the hypothalamus and come from a faulty fight-flight response or other atypical brain structures; in other words, BPD has a biological basis. Whilst I agree that we can learn to change our coping mechanisms, the idea that they are as a result of anything other than pure desperation and mental anguish is incredibly puzzling and dehumanising. Simply looking the causes of the condition up online or doing a small amount of research from a credible source debunks all the common BPD stereotypes, yet people like to speak about it as if they know everything about the condition just because they’ve heard a few horror stories. There are nasty people in the world. Some of them have BPD, but that doesn’t mean everyone with BPD is a nasty person, and the bottom line is that most people suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder will hurt themselves before they hurt anyone else. We are so hypersensitive to any changes in our relationships in the first place that the last thing we want to do is damage them. When we say something feels like the end of the world, that’s because the emotional dysregulation part of BPD really makes it feel like it is. We’re not being dramatic or trying to get your attention. In fact, I can say for certain that despite feeling this way on a daily basis for about 7 years, I rarely actually voiced the sentiment. I still don’t. But I should be able to. To give the example of one person suffering from physical illness and one suffering from a mental illness, where both publicly talk about the pain they’re experiencing, why is only the latter of the two called an attention seeker? If the former tweeted about how much pain they were in, nobody would bat an eyelid. Why is this? When so many people experience mental health problems? When the gender who are typically expected by society to repress their feelings accounted for over 70% of suicide victims in the UK last year? It’s clear that keeping our feelings to ourselves and suffering in silence doesn’t do us any good, so why are so many so eager for us to continue doing so? I think being open about mental health simply needs to be normalised, and that once it is, hopefully, this sentiment will die out. I find that by being open about my mental health on social media (still quite selectively, I must admit! I can’t see myself making a post about BPD on Facebook any time soon!) has given me a sense of purpose because I do feel like I’m helping to normalise this kind of honesty. With regards to the stigma that surrounds BPD specifically, I feel that my presence online and my support of others helps to show that we’re just human beings who are struggling, not the awful mythos that surrounds us.

To finish, one of my main goals in my recovery is to be more compassionate to myself. BPD is a hard enough diagnosis to have without constantly internally doubting and questioning it. I find that as the months go by, I am feeling more and more stable, and this leads me to question if I was ever sick, especially since I only displayed 5/9 of the borderline traits in the first place, which meant that I only just met the diagnostic criteria. I don’t have psychotic rage or complete blackouts and tend to act inwards rather than outwards. I am what is considered within the mental health community to be a “quiet” borderline. I know theoretically that this doesn’t make my condition any less valid, but for this reason, part of me fears moving towards being “well”. Because if I’m well, then I feel like I’ve lost part of an already fragile identity. Of course, I’d rather not have BPD. But because I’ve been expressing symptoms for so long, I worry what’s left of me without it. At the same time, I fear going back to a place where my BPD is so severe that I have to go back to hospital. So really, it’s like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. It’s a double-edged sword. Is that enough cliches? The thing that I wish more people could understand is that mental illness in itself is traumatic and that even when you’ve moved on, what you experienced will always be a part of you. You still need that support. I’m not going to lie, resisting the urge to indulge in old coping mechanisms and habits is hard, and whilst the sense of pride I feel every time I don’t, or every time I use responsibly something I’m used to abusing is rewarding, there are days where waiting for the need to use them to pass is very long and very hard. I need to stop telling myself that just because I am feeling better than I did, I don’t deserve that support anymore. I do. I still deserve compassion. I still deserve a safety net. I still deserve a sense of understanding from the people around me. I deserve all of it, as does everyone else. I also deserve to be proud of how far I’ve come already instead of berating myself for not having come far enough. As I write this I haven’t self-harmed in 169 days, have been at my current job for coming up to 6 months, have an interview for a psychology course at the uni I came to love in a week’s time. I’m finally somewhat healthily managing my weight for the first time in years! I have also decided that once I do return to university, my reason for being there is not contingent on me maintaining firsts; my mental health, and what I do with the degree is much more important. I would ultimately like to go into clinical psychology and do as much as I can in that area to help people going through similar issues. With the current state of the mental health (and healthcare, in general) system in the UK, it’s definitely easy to get disheartened that the services it provides will never be adequate due to funding issues. However, in the meantime, I think the more of us with lived experience that can get into mental health care, the better the service that eventually is provided can be. Every week I’m thinking of new things I’d like to research once I have the footing, epigenetic and intergenerational trauma and the use of psychedelics and the benefit of peer support groups. There’s always a way to turn the negative into a positive, even if it takes time to learn how to do so and I think after all these years, I’m finally getting the hang of it. If my brain has been a “dumpster fire” for the last however many years, then I don’t want to let the ashes go to waste. I’m going to make them into some really morbid confetti! As I sit here writing this, I can firmly say I am happier than I’ve ever been. Game of Thrones is pissing me off (might do a post how identity and attachment issues lead to a correlation between BPD and obsessive character fixations at some point because BOY has that been driven home to me this week!) but tomorrow I’m going to an ABBA party with uni friends, Yvie Oddly is smashing drag race, and my cat is lying next to me purring. It gets better. The hard days become less frequent and they get easier to cope with too; you can learn to ride the waves and find reasons to continue doing so, regardless of how tiring it might be sometimes.

My pipe dream for this time next year is that we have people in government who really care about the invisibly ill of this country. That Downing Street can do more than turn green. I hope that we get to see more realistic and sympathetic portrayals of BPD in the media that draw attention to the issue without glamourising or romanticising it and that we get more portrayals of queer, disabled and POC experiences of mental illness too as it’s not just skinny caucasian girls that deal with this shit! Most importantly, I also hope that I continue to flourish, and wish the same for everyone struggling with mental illness/any kind of turmoil. Anybody who reads this ’til the end, wow! Thank you! It was a bit of an essay but what do you expect coming from an ex-history student and wannabe author, lol! Please let me know if there is something you’d like to see me post about on this Tumblr, such as any specific BPD symptoms and how they might present, how I deal with social anxiety and body image, or even anything completed unrelated to mental health! God knows I love the sound of my own…prose? Is that the right word to use?

I hope you enjoyed reading!

Lauren x

#mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealth #borderline personality disorder #borderlne #bpd #bpdrecovery #social anxiety #socialphobia #bpdprobz #body dysmorphia #recovery #addiction

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brokenforecast · 6 years

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The Empress

The Empress: a muggle guide to tarot

> The Empress by Stephanie Davidson

Today we’ll be talking about The Empress a.k.a. your mother. I have tried very hard not to make this post a long series of yo mama jokes. As I wrote before, the tarot talks about some things that are universal, that apply to everyone. One such thing is: we all have a mother. A biological mother and no, Steve, I still don’t believe you were created in a clone tank by some unlisted government agency. Some of us are lucky enough to have had one or more mother-figures, fulfilling the role of the archetypical mother, which is our main subject today. What is understood as the archetypical mother will become clearer when we unravel the few symbols which often accompany the empress. Luckily, only a handful of symbols this time, in contrast to the three previous cards which have been quite heavy on symbolism. So grab the empress from your tarot deck and check if any of the following symbols occur on your card.

Symbolism

> Rider-Waite Empres: regal figure, surrounded by nature.

There are three levels to the empress: 1. The empress: the mother of a nation 2. The mother: yes, your mother 3. Your inner mother: yes, you

A possible fourth, which I will leave out because of the muggle thing, is the mother goddess; plenty of other blogs and websites can tell you about her. A lot of the symbolism deals with the first level: a throne, a crown (often of stars, we know where you took that one, Mary), a scepter and damn fine robes. All this indicates that she’s the boss. She is also always right. She carries the heavy burden of balancing all the needs of the subjects and acts for the common good of all; seldom pleasing every single one. But someone must keep the higher perspective and guard the peace. Unlike the fool she can’t just be herself because she carries a lot of responsibilities. She can’t manipulate the world just for her own gain like the magician because she has to take care and provide for others. She can’t afford to dedicate herself to the truth like the high priestess, because she is neck-deep into managing conflict and needs to be pragmatic. The symbolism is quite clear: the empire = your family.

> The Renassance Tarot Empress: rising from wheat.

Almost always the empress is accompanied by wheat. Wheat stands for fertility and abundance, think more food than you can eat. I’m thinking of a lot of pizzas right now. With cheese. So. Much. Cheese. In the bottom corners of the card we see the cornucopias - one of the few symbols with a phallic and receptive side - which represent the horns of plenty (of pizzas). The archetypical mother cooks and cooks well, provides all the body needs: pizzas, warm clothes without holes in them, a nice and clean home, warm milk with honey when we’re sick, you get the picture. Using what (mother) nature provides. But also our emotional needs: a shoulder to cry on when we’re sad (again). She will unconditionally take your side in any conflict with someone outside of the household. When the conflict is within the household, she will be the peacekeeper, reconciling the waring children. She also takes out the garbage, does the dishes, carries children through pregnancy, gives birth, waters the plants, feeds the pets, is the house’s pharmacist, psychologist, accountant, doctor, diplomat, interior decorator, and lover.

Fertility can be interpreted symbolically as creativity, etc. but it also stands for just that: having children.

Often the Venus symbol is depicted on the empress card, originally a goddess of plants and cultivated spaces. You didn’t know that, now did you? It helped me dissociate the goddess with a brothel called Aphrodite’s Palace, which I pass on my way to work. Now, each time I see a ‘customer’ enter I imagine them receiving tutorials about growing house plants and which herbs are edible, by women in lingerie. It makes my life bearable.

> The Wild Unknown Empress: Tall nightly tree illuminated by moonlight.

The empress is often portrayed outside to show her link with everything that grows and thrives, if tended to. If not outside, she’s often surrounded by plants. In the Wild Unknown Tarot, the empress is a majestic tree herself, standing proud in the moonlight. For me, this has a link to our inner mother. As an adult, I often find it challenging to take care of myself as well as my mother did: cook good food, dress appropriately for the season, go to bed on a decent hour, wake up early enough, take the time to care for my body, my house, my plants, my partner. And we need to be gentle and careful with ourselves. Society is constantly telling us to be The Emperor, but he’d be an unwashed, underfed baboon who hasn’t even been potty-trained if it weren’t for The Empress, which is why she is featured in the tarot before him.

Upright meaning

First let’s get something out of the way: does the mother have to be a woman? No, if your father(s) or someone else took the archetypical role of the mother upon them (cheers for them), then the empress can refer to them. In the same way, if you are one of the partners in a family and another partner fulfills this role more than you, the empress can refer to them, no matter who is in possession of a (working) uterus or not.

> FLTR: The Empress by Lesly-Oh, Drathe, Fluorescent Wolf

When this card comes up in a spread it obviously refers to either your mother (or someone who fulfills that role) or yourself in the role of the mother, with all the qualities listed above. It means this person, or these qualities are needed at this point in your life. Are you getting enough to eat? Is it decent, nurturing food? Do you drink enough water? Do you shower or bathe enough? Are you making sure you look decent? Do you need to sit down and talk to someone about your feelings? Is there an internal conflict that desperately needs a peaceful solution? Ask yourself these questions and give yourself time to answer them. Also the big motherfucker of a question: do you want children of your own? Already a mother? Then ask yourself if you are being a good mother to your children. What is a good mother? What mother would you like to have had? You can’t be perfect but what are the most important aspects you want to focus on?

If the card refers to a situation and not a person (and yes, you need to deduce that yourself, but I’ll teach you how when we discuss our first spread, coming soon), it is a situation of abundance, safety, coziness and growth. Both material and emotional happiness.

Reverse meaning

As always, there is a trinity of possibilities when a card appears upside-down.

1. The opposite: lack of a mother-figure. Some of the most broken people I know - and I say this with gentleness – didn’t have someone who nurtured them, both physical and emotional. It often leaves a dark abyss in the middle of their heart, so insecure, like the roots of a plant that could never really take hold of the soil they grew up in. When this card is reversed it can mean (physical or emotional) poverty and hunger, apathy, feeling like you don’t matter, feeling like there is no need for you to exist. If there is no mother, you are left with only one option: be your own mother. It’s a lot of work.

2. Something is blocking the empress. Maybe you no longer talk to your mother for some reason. Re-examine those reasons. I’m not saying you should re-establish contact, just re-examine thoroughly. Maybe something is holding you back to be a mother? What is holding you back? Especially for men: why are you not nurturing your own inner mother? What aspects of it are difficult but necessary? How could you progress in those traits? Additionally, the card can mean infertility, symbolic or not.

3. YES MOTHER, I KNOW MOTHER, PLEASE MOTHER. Sometimes, a lot of the times, mothers try too hard. Nurturing becomes controlling, caring becomes overprotective, keeping the peace becomes keeping up appearances. The card can refer to a mother that wants a say in everything, can’t let go of her children, either because she has reduced her self-image to simply motherhood, a fear of uselessness or simply by caring too much. In this perspective it can also mean a mother-in-law, for obvious reasons. Think of questions like ‘You are buying GREEN curtains for your apartment? Really? Sure, if that is what you WANT.’ Somehow there still is a symbolic umbilical cord that needs cutting. Time to get the scissors. Snip snip.

> The Empress by MA ilustraciones and Spero Spera

Meditation on The Empress

In a one card spread or when using a card to trigger meditation, the empress asks us to be more like her. No matter who you are, try to be a mother to yourself and those around you. Grow stuff and cook it for them. Make them a cup of tea. Get them a blanket when they are cold. Listen to them when they need to talk. Try maintaining the peace or resolving conflict situations so that everyone can have something. Try focusing on basic physical needs like warmth, food, safety and enough sleep. If this meditation keeps taking you to your mother, you have what professionals call mother-issues. A lot of people have those. Mothers are not perfect and for every good thing they gave us, they probably also gave you a scar somewhere. If possible, try to find forgiveness; being a mother is hard. If possible accept the scar. If not, there is seldom a need to confront her. It’s your scar, your own. Take care of it.

TLDR Upright meaning: abundance, nurturing, fertility Reversed meaning: poverty, overprotectiveness, infertility

Hollander, P. Scott, Tarot voor beginners, ‘s-Gravenhage, 2004. P38-41. Lyle, Jane, The Secret Tarot, New York, 1998. P24-27. Krans, Kim, The Wild Unknown Tarot Guidebook, New York, 2016. P163-164.

#a muggle guide to tarot #tarot #tarot readings #the empress #empress #006 #major arcana #the empress reversed #empress reversed #cartomancy

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

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Klaine Advent one-shot - “Deserve” (Rated NC17)

Blaine has spent a lifetime in a wheelchair, hiding himself away, not wanting to be considered a burden by anyone. But he longs for intimacy, and has desires he has trouble admitting to himself, let alone anyone else. So he calls a professional, hoping that will help ... only he's not sure that the intimacy he craves is one that he necessarily deserves. (2209 words)

Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt 'limited', and based off of a few personal interactions with previous clients. It just took me a long time to write. Dom/sub. Dom Kurt. sub Blaine. disabled!Blaine.

Read on AO3.

“I get paid by the hour, the first hour upfront, as I outlined in my email,” the man says, strolling through Blaine’s apartment as if he owns it, pulling back curtains on the windows that Blaine doesn’t want to admit he closed on purpose before the man arrived. As sun floods the living room, Blaine’s fingers curl uncomfortably into the arms of his wheelchair. With the room brightly lit, the man can see everything – Blaine’s guitar and his piano sitting in their corner, neglected over the past few weeks as pain in his fingers has kept him from them; his heirloom furnishings, which he doesn’t particularly like, but which he doesn’t have the motivation to replace; family pictures documenting a life that became progressively more disappointing as time went on ...

The man can see him, and everything that’s wrong with him.

“Y---yes,” Blaine says, fingers tapping subconsciously as the anxiety in his brain spreads to the rest of his body. “I understand …”

“But?” the man infers, taking his time examining the view out of the last window, which overlooks Central Park. It’s a glorious view – part of the reason why Blaine chose this apartment in the first place. Blaine never thought he’d find a view to rival it until this man came along – handsome, refined, wearing an air of debonair sophistication and a designer suit, the long line of his back straight and strong, his face positively sculpted, his eyes intelligent, the soft upsweep of his highlighted hair a work of art. He could be an actor, or a model, in Blaine’s humble opinion. Either way, he’s too good for this.

Too good for Blaine, and what Blaine is paying him to do.

“But I’m beginning to think …” Blaine swallows hard. It hurts his chest “… that maybe I’m wasting your time.”

The man looks over his shoulder, fixing Blaine with his unique blue-grey eyes, quizzically framed by a single arched eyebrow.

“Is there something wrong with me?” he asks – not self-consciously, but matter-of-factly. “Because if there is, I can refer you to someone who might suit you better.”

“No!” Blaine says, incredulous. Wrong with him? How in the world could he think there’s anything wrong with him? This man, sashaying away from the windows to join Blaine in his chair, looked like something out of a high-end fashion magazine. Blaine didn’t think that men like him existed in real life, but here he was, stepping out of the shadows of a vivid daydream. “It’s … it’s not that. It’s not that at all. I mean, you’re … you’re …” Blaine stumbles through adjectives, his mind cluttered with his own insecurities and self-doubts, unable to navigate the words that identify those feelings to find one that comes close to defining this man “… perfect.”

The man grins, stopping a few feet away from Blaine with his arms crossed. “Well, if I’m perfect, then what’s the problem?”

“I … I would have to say that … you know … I’m the problem … Sir.”

The man standing before Blaine isn’t smug, nor condescending. He’s simply confident. And his confidence isn’t an act. He wears it like his skin, probably one of the reasons why he’s so good at what he does, why he comes so highly recommended. Blaine wishes he could have a bit of that confidence. Dressed in shoes and socks indoors, khaki slacks, a button down shirt, a sweater vest, and a cardigan, Blaine still feels vulnerable.

Naked.

“Kurt. Until we get things started, you can call me Kurt.”

“Kurt,” Blaine repeats, though it seems sacrilege to call this imposing man anything but Sir.

“That’s right,” Kurt says, his tone softer. “So why do you think you’re the problem, Blaine?” He must immediately notice Blaine’s discomfort with that question, because he switches gears, asking a different one in a blink. “Better yet – why don’t you tell me what you know about BDSM? Give me a little insight into what about it appeals to you.”

“I don’t know much,” Blaine admits. His eyes leave Kurt’s face and drift to his hands, which he folds in his lap. “I only know what I’ve read on the Internet, mostly on Tumblr.”

“Ah,” Kurt says, a thread of sympathy in his tone that indicates he knows exactly what types of blogs Blaine has been visiting, what pictures and gifs he’s seen … and why they might make him feel like he – bound to his wheelchair, a little soft around the edges, mostly content to sit at home and re-read the same novel fifteen times than venture outdoors and explore the city – isn’t good enough to participate in Kurt’s world.

“And I’ve been to … you know … classes … but they made me uncomfortable. So I thought that maybe a one-on-one experience would work better in my case.”

“Why were they uncomfortable?”

Blaine peeks up at Kurt’s face and his curious expression. “I just … I didn’t want other people to know that I was interested in this.”

“Because they might judge you?”

“In a way.”

“Was anyone you knew in those classes?”

“No.”

“Did anyone you know know you were going to them?”

“No, it wasn’t that. It’s … the people in the classes … they weren’t like me … and I didn’t want them to know …”

“… that you want this?”

“I …” Blaine didn’t realize his cheeks had gone red, but the more he reveals, the hotter they become. He can’t remember the last time someone has been as blunt with him as Kurt is being. Most of the people he interacts with, his doctors and his psychiatrist included, tend to coddle him. The people he does business with go out of their way to make things easier for him than they would for everyone else. They want him to feel comfortable, to ease his stress, and he can appreciate that. But it doesn’t make him feel comfortable.

Quite on the contrary. It makes him feel like a leper.

“Yes,” he says quietly, ashamed of his own cowardice. He expects Kurt to laugh at him, chide him for acting immature. So many of the blog posts he’s read have told him that if he can’t ask for something he wants, he shouldn’t get it.

What Kurt says instead is worse, because it bares the roots of his feelings to light.

“Because you don’t think you deserve it. You don’t think you deserve to find pleasure this way … or at all?”

“M---maybe,” Blaine answers in a shaky voice. He attempts to laugh it off, but the chuckle he forces becomes an unattractive cough. In his daily life, he tries not to be handi-centric, plays his disabilities off, but mostly because he doesn’t want people to think he’s whining. His mom was a staunch proponent of, “Yes, you have it bad, but other people have it worse,” never allowing him to acknowledge how bad he actually did have it. Blaine often felt she said that to assuage her own guilt more than to help him out of his depression.

It was her way of shutting him down.

Blaine never blamed his mother for his disability. She couldn’t have prevented it. But her constant insistence that he be grateful for the life he did have embedded its hooks deep. It made him believe that no one would want to deal with him the way he was, accept him flaws and all, if he couldn’t find a way to just be happy. If he owned up to his pain, his bitterness, his feelings of frustration and disappointment at the way his life turned out, people would see him as a burden.

Then he would end up alone for the rest of his life.

His mother meant well but, in many ways, her attitude did as much damage as the stroke that put him in his chair.

Since he doesn’t have the energy to constantly put on a brave face, especially around strangers, he hides himself away. He doesn’t want to be a burden, but he doesn’t want to be an inspiration, either. Unfortunately, he’s discovered, those are the only two holes disabled people are given to fit into. He just wants to live in peace. And his method works, but only because he fulfilled his own prophecy.

He ended up alone.

“To be honest, I … I’m not even sure why I want this.”

“If I had to hazard a guess, it’s because you feel deprived of something.” Kurt takes a step closer, then another, gauging Blaine’s level of comfort with his proximity. “Something was withheld from you, and you weren’t consulted. You were helpless to stop it - muscle control, sensation, physical strength. Now you want to take something back, to say you’re in control of what’s left.”

Blaine darts his eyes away, bashful over Kurt’s emphasis on physical strength – an insinuation that Blaine is strong in other ways. If Kurt were anyone else, Blaine would think he was flattering him. It’s Kurt’s job, after all, to make Blaine feel a certain way. That’s how he makes his money. But from his bio, his references, and their prior communications, Kurt doesn’t seem like the kind of man who wastes words on empty compliments.

“But, if I submit to you, aren’t I giving up control?”

“It might seem that way, but in BDSM, the submissive has a majority of the control. I may want something, something I’m convinced will make you feel good, but unless I clear it with you beforehand, I can’t do it. I can’t force anything on you. And once we begin, you have the power to stop things at any time, as do I. We’ll be equals in this arrangement more than you realize.” Kurt takes a knee. It brings his face below Blaine’s eye line, but only barely. Kneeling in front of Blaine doesn’t erase any of his confidence. There’s an incredible amount of dominance in the way Kurt’s eyes lock shamelessly onto Blaine’s, so much so that it’s difficult for Blaine to maintain that eye contact. Kurt raises his hands, palms hovering over Blaine’s legs, an inch or two above his knees. “May I?”

Blaine stares at him, momentarily confused, but when he realizes that Kurt is asking for permission to touch him, he nods … and holds his breath. The last person to touch Blaine’s legs was his physical therapist, Tony. Tony is a kind man, a handsome man, and he happens to be gay. But they have a strictly professional relationship. The way Tony touches Blaine is nurturing, comforting, invigorating even, but it’s nothing like this. It never turned him on, even though there were times Blaine prayed it would. He might have to change therapists after that, but it would be worth it for one moment of arousal.

So he’d know that it was still possible.

With Kurt’s hands making their way to Blaine’s hips, apparently, it is.

There’s a sensuality in Kurt’s touch that he exudes effortlessly as he kneads Blaine’s muscles … and a tenderness, too. Kurt has experience. He knows how to touch him, and he isn’t apprehensive about doing it. It’s magical, this intuition he has. Underneath Kurt’s talented fingers, Blaine doesn’t feel ungrateful, or lesser, or ashamed.

And he doesn’t feel alone.

“I’m … I’m limited,” Blaine says, reminding Kurt as if he may have forgotten in the last few minutes, as if part of their initial contact didn’t include Blaine detailing the extent of his injuries, the length of his convalescence.

“You have limits,” Kurt corrects, “but guess what? Everybody does. I do, too. We’ll work around them. I’ll teach you. Wouldn’t it be exciting to explore those limits? Discover once and for all what your body is capable of?”

“I … I guess.” Nervousness splits his voice, overwhelmed by an excitement he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. “It’s just difficult for me to think of myself that way.”

“As what? A sexual creature?”

Blaine chews his lower lip, bites back a smile, and Kurt smiles at the innocence of it.

“Blaine, your body belongs to you. You deserve to enjoy it. You deserve pleasure, intimacy.” Kurt stops massaging Blaine’s left leg and takes his hand. He lifts it to his lips and kisses it gently – the knuckles first, then the fingers, lingering on the sensitive web of flesh in between. His next words are a whisper against Blaine’s trembling skin. “You deserve to do what you want with it.”

Kurt continues to kiss a trail down one finger and up the next. When he gets to his thumb, he turns Blaine’s hand over to plant a kiss in his palm, and another on his wrist. Kurt’s kisses ricochet throughout Blaine’s body – up his arms, across his shoulders, down his spine, in his groin. Nerves fire that have been numb for as long as Blaine can remember. None of this will make him walk or help him stand, but he doesn’t feel so confined anymore.

“Then, for the next few hours” - Blaine closes his fingers around the kiss in his left hand as Kurt starts kissing the fingers of his right - “I’m handing it over to you.”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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notanotherinfjblog · 7 years

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The types as people I know of the types (from an INFJ point of view)

INTJ: - no one is better at discussing society and the human mind and politics with at 2am than him - his many coping mechanisms make him look like he’s full of himself to most people when he’s actually a giant ball of insecurities - successfully manipulates people in his work place in such a subtle way over months in order to get rid of a person he deems incompetent for the job - but if he chooses to do so, he’ll tell the person he’s about to get rid of about his plan because he has “a little piece of morality left in him and views this as a courtesy to them” (that person always thinks he’s joking. and then they’re gone 3 months later, oops) - awful sense of humour that is rather endearing - very very emotional and has no idea how to cope with them - give him all the love you have inside, he needs it

INTP: - starts his day with googling stuff and eating cake he baked for himself - it’s nice going on about deep questions with him, but he only listens for the most part. Uncomfortable theories are countered by “No, I don’t believe that”, but it’s obvious that he’s thinking it through. He’ll usually end the discussion with “I’ll have to think about that. I’ll tell you tomorrow what I think of it.” - gives himself such a hard time because he wants to work independently from everyone else, but has everyone’s best interest at heart. So, if someone is sick and still tries to do the laundry or fetch themselves a coffee, he’ll go mad because it stresses him out so much that the sick person deliberately overextends themselves, so he has to hurry up in order to do the things for them in their place but faster - “I’m always right. I know that sounds pretentious, but it’s true. I don’t want to always be right, sometimes I wish I wouldn’t be. But what can I say, I just am always right.” - despite supposedly always being right, he misinterprets other people’s and his own emotions with a confidence 24/7

ENTJ: - the most sociable person to exist - the best liked person to exist - was always elected as representative for group projects, for the class, for the whole school, and now even in local politics - probably our future chancellor in 20 years time - miraculously good at everything - I once asked a friend of him an organisational question to which that friend replied in all seriousness “I don’t know, I’ll go ask Napoleon” and went straight to this ENTJ - stormed into the principal’s office with 30 other people behind him once after he find out that our homophobic principal unrightfully accused a gay guy in our year of pedophilia, so he gave her hell

ENTP: - “What’s the password of this computer?” he asks. “I don’t know, that’s your computer”, one of his students replies. “...what...”, he says as his eyes widen in confusion. - I don’t understand how a person this intelligent can be this forgetful - frequently almost broke his neck by falling down the same and only existing stair in the lecture hall. every. single. week. - invites not only his friends to lunch, but also everyone who is in close proximity at that time, no matter if you’re someone with two doctorates or a college student in the first semester - tells a student waiting in front of his office for half an hour because he’s late to their meeting that he was just so very busy and ran over there as fast as he could, even though there were witnesses who saw him sauntering out of the cafeteria - broke a leg while carrying a friend’s little daughter on his shoulders who wanted him to gallop like a horse

INFJ: - has the same ridiculous sense of humour as me, so many absurd stories and so many puns - gesticulates just as weirdly as I do when she’s telling a story - very sociable despite being socially awkward, yet very bad at socialising - “Do you think ‘I didn’t know what else to do with my life and figured this field of work is just as good as any’ is a good starter for my letter of application?” - sometimes we only communicate in forms of ironic overdramatic gifs - too awkward and too precious for this world and I smile every time I think of her - makes you feel like the best possible version of yourself every time you’re with her - casually drives 2 hours to meet you and doesn’t even mention it a single time - every secret is safe with her - “It usually takes me a few years to open up to people. Except with you, I don’t why. I feel like every time I’m with you, I talk more than during the entire week. What is this?”, she says, which is funny cause I, as another INFJ, feel the exact same way with her.

INFP: - very shy and socially awkward - she sat down right next to me on the first day of uni in an empty lecture hall and it was obvious that she wanted to befriend me as I saw her struggling to find a way to open a conversation, but she just couldn’t do it (she seemed so relieved when I made the first move hahaha) - we don’t talk often, but when we do she admits that she wanted to ask to meet up weeks ago, but only now found the courage to do so and laughs awkwardly about it - it got a bit awkward when we were in a restaurant once and I told her a story and her fork with pasta was hanging right in front of her mouth for a few minutes because she focused too much on listening to me and forgot to eat - I start to miss her as soon as we say goodbye - tries to keep the conversation far from emotional topics because then she’d be incapable of looking you in the eye and giving you a proper answer

ENFJ: female ENFJ: - the most sociable and popular person I have ever met - gives the best hugs - an absolute cinnamon roll with a heart as big as the whole town - makes you feel very special - when we were little I was so scared that I didn’t mean as much to her as she did to me because she had more good friends than I had distant acquaintances (until she suddenly bitterly fought another friend of mine for “stealing” me from her haha) male ENFJ: - the overenthusiastic guy I started uni with who ended up getting his Bachelor’s degree after two years and then skipped the Master because he already had a Master’s degree in physics and is now doing a doctorate for linguistics and I’m like ???? - he likes to ask personal, very disarming questions but in a curious and friendly way - seemed like the weird kid at first, turned out to be an absolutely odd sweetheart who constantly giggles about his own jokes

ENFP: - takes everything you say serious and doesn’t really understand that 80% of the things I say are nothing but jokes - every time I dramatise a slight inconvenience or problem that I don’t actually worry about at all, she thinks I’m crying for help and gives serious advice, which is really really endearing - pricks you repeatedly in class in order to find out how far she can push you until you get angry - has a very loud, but very nice laugh that makes you laugh too immediately - wants to make everyone feel included - one minute, she behaves like a little child, and the next, you wonder when the hell she turned into an 80-year-old wise wizard guiding you on your journey

ISTJ: - loves talking to people and doesn’t realise she’s a bit socially awkward - is a good person in disguise - painted over all the love letters she got from her husband in fear of anyone else ever reading them - her only way of showing you her love for you is by sharing knowledge and giving you interesting little articles she cut out from the newspaper for you - very bossy - can still recite poems she learned in primary school - the only 80-year-old from a tiny tiny village that I ever met who is this open-minded, like “Oh, my son adopted a girl from Africa? Yay, what a sweet grandchild!” and “Our new mayor is an immigrant? I live in such a good town that the people here are so accepting and open, this is great!” and “I don’t understand how two women could love each other, but if they are happy together, then so am I!”

ESTJ: - interrupts a professor in his talking because she felt like she could explain it better. Now she’s working for him, so she got that going for her. - very insecure about coming off as arrogant when she is so overeager to explain things because she really only wants to help people as best as she can - such a workaholic - the first person to offer help with anything and without hesitation (and when I say anything, I mean really anything) - has friends and acquaintances wherever she goes, no idea how - no matter what time it is, she will text you back immediately - “Do you know person XYZ? No? Awww I never really noticed her until last month and then I talked to her and she’s so shy and quiet but so sweet and funny, I love her.” - I’m starting to believe that she has a time turner like Hermione Granger in The Prisoner of Azkaban cause there is just no freaking way that she manages to do so many things in 24 hours, it’s just not possible

ISFJ: female ISFJ: - stops everything she’s doing because something reminded her of a story about her cat that she needs to tell immediately - an absolute sweetheart - always roots for the underdog - smiles a lot and giggles a lot male ISFJ: - a popular yet genuinely nice guy back in high school who, for whatever reason, nominated me to become our class representative and convinced other people to vote for me (the quiet invisible person). And I won? Against the ENTJ I talked about above? I don’t know how. Or why. No matter how much time passes, I’m still so confused about this. - smiles every time he happens to meet a person he knows - I remember how sweet he was to his girlfriend in 9th grade and how they held hands sitting next to each other in class

ESFJ: - spends half of her life talking with shining eyes about every child she knows - judges people for not thinking she is the centre of the universe - overprotective hen - makes you take that sweater with you because “it could be cold outside some time today” when it’s hot as hell - makes all of the 12 people present talk a foreign language if her friend doesn’t speak their native language very well - always means well, but in doing so, she brings everyone close to her in awkward or embarrassing situations without noticing - can’t directly tell someone that she doesn’t like something, so she waits until her spouse or children are out of earshot for a minute and says that they are the ones who don’t like it even if they do

ISTP: - extremely stubborn and independent on the outside - yet thinks of so many nice little things to do for other people, but would never admit that he’s doing nice things for them, so he invents ridiculous reasons to cover up his true intentions - becomes awkward and restless after he did such a nice thing for someone and didn’t get a positive reaction immediately, but is so obviously relieved once he gets that positive reaction (but still denies that he did it for them of course) - very good cook - denies that he has any emotions, but as soon as a slightly bad thing happens you see him struggling internally

ESTP: - the class clown - makes inappropriate jokes - craves to be liked by people but would never admit it - makes fun of you until you fight back, then suddenly turns into your biggest supporter - a very nice person once he finished school and was out of that toxic environment of peer pressure - travelled the world after graduating

ISFP: female ISFP: - dances weirdly in public and doesn’t care one bit - pretends to be drunk women’s friend in order to protect them from creeps - takes the train at midnight to go eat fries in another town because she just felt like it - too cool for you - writes a comment under any photo I post saying that I’m cool, and then she comments from another account under that same photo, tagging her other account how right she is - has a whole arsenal of inappropriate jokes and shoots them all out in the most embarrassing situations - can be absolutely ruthlessly sarcastic male ISFP: - the only guy I’ve ever met who openly says that his favourite movie is a very kitschy movie and then recommends you some other good romantic movies (honestly, his taste in movies is amazing) - said he can’t wait for the day that he graduates from university so that he can finally move up north to his girlfriend, no matter if he doesn’t find a job there and might have to work as a taxi driver or something

ESFP: - the most emotional person on this Earth and unafraid to show it - very open, very nice, very funny and very pretty, so it’s no surprise that 90% of the guys she gets romantically close to treat her like a bag of dirt because they think she’s “easy” until they get to know her and say she’s “too high-maintenance” - makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been and makes you laugh harder than you ever have - has an inferior Ni induced existential crisis every other week - socially capable as hell but scared as hell of socialising - likes talking about herself a lot, but is also a good listener - more stylish than you will ever be - Person: “Hey, we should totally meet up tomorrow!” ESFP: “Yeah! Looking forward to it!” ESFP to a friend, 5min later: “Oh my god, why did I say that, I don’t want to meet them, oh my god, what should I do?” and is too scared of hurting their feelings so she doesn’t cancel the meet-up and just stays home wallowing in her bad conscience

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whitewolfofwinterfell · 5 years

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Q for you: Do you think you'll ever 'forget' the special connection you have with characters of your favourite tv shows and movies in the future? Like, in 5-10 years, you won't be able to or care to connect with them anymore and think it's all silly and trivial? What are important things/mindsets that you took away from influential characters/shows&movies while growing up and also nowadays? 😊

Sorry for the delay, I ended up falling asleep. Wow, this is such an interesting and thought-provoking question.

I feel like I’ll always enjoy and connect to fictional universes (whether it be books, shows or movies) and the characters in them. But I suppose as I get older I may change. I don’t expect to still be on this site engaging in fandom when I’m in my 50s or 60s. I’m assuming that as I grow up my priorities will naturally shift and I won’t find fandom as important as I do now. If that does happen I hope I never dimiss it as being silly or trivial, because it’s not, it’s a very real hobby and passion for me and helped me through a lot in my life. So for the reason I feel like I’ll always be able to remember the value of certain shows and characters in my life.

As for the second part of your question, there are so many important lessons and philosophies I’ve taken from shows over the years. I’ve never really taken the time to think about how they’ve shaped aspects of the way I think or my personality, but I really think they have. So here they are:

TV Shows

Charmed - I think that Charmed definitley taught me about strong women. My mom was a single parent so I always had a role model in my life anyway, but there’s something about Charmed that’s so powerful. Prue, Piper, Phoebe and Paige are real women who are complex, flawed and strong. I definitley think that the way I think and feel about being a woman has been shaped by Charmed a lot, especially because I watched it from such a young age. Prue has been a role model of mine since I was a child and still is, and as silly as it sounds, her actions and behaviours throughout my life have probably guided mine. It also taught me the importance of family (and I always fight to keep a close relationship with my brother as a result) and that although it’s good to be independent you’re always stronger when you have others by your side.

Friends - I’ve watched Friends constantly practically my whole life and it’s got me through so many hard times. What friends taught me is the importance of never giving up and staying positive. All of the characters go through hard times (break-ups, divorces, losing jobs, having no money etc.) but they never really sit around feeling sorry for themselves, they carry on and keep moving forward. And obviously, Friends also taught me the importance of having a group of close friends around you and how deeply that can enrich your life. As an individual character I’d say that Rachel taught me how much strength and success you can find when you step out of your comfort zone and stand on your own two feet.

LOST - You’re never alone. That’s the most significant mindset I took from LOST. No matter how isolated you feel or how alone and sad or angry, there is always someone else somewhere in the world who feels the same. It also showed me the importance of forging connections with others outside of my usual circle of family and friends, because there are so many amazing people out there and opportunties to make new connections, and it’s important to do that because every single person you connect with will be unique and bring something valuable and new into your life. And I guess that’s the other important thing I took from LOST - everyone has a function to play in our lives, everyone has something to teach us or show us and if we’re willing and open-minded we can learn and be inspired by everyone.

Skins - Being a teenager is the hardest time of our life and we all fuck up. As a teenager Skins was so important to me because I connected to it on such a personal level. To me, it was reflective of the exact time and culture I was living in (if not slightly melodramatic lol) and I saw the actions, feelings and lives of the characters and could relate to all of them in some way. I think what I took away from it is that it’s okay to make those mistakes as a teenager because it’s inevitable but in the end you have to grow up.

My Fat Diary - Everybody is strong in their own way. We all struggle, we all feel shit sometimes, we all cry and feel worthless, we all feel insecure but we have a strength within us that we don’t even realise. We show strength when we get out of bed in the morning, when we make a cup of tea for our parents, when we help an old lady to cross the road, when we get caught in the rain on the way back from work and don’t scream about it, when we listen to our friends problems despite having our own, when we do a favour for a friend. There are so many small gestures and things that we all do everyday that we take forgranted but that take strength to do. Most people are more likely to focus on their negative traits or weaknesses and put themselves down, but it’s because they fail to see the value of all of those little things that we all do everyday. On a more personal level, Rae taught me the importance of healing yourself and being happy within yourself before being in a relationship. But also the importance of being able to open yourself up to the people that love you instead of pushing them away because of your own fears and insecurities.

Angel - This has been one of the most significant shows I’ve watched recently in terms of how it’s opened up my mind. Angel taught me that despite what we’re told one person usually can’t/won’t change the world, but that doesn’t in any way diminish our value and the difference we can make. Even helping one person is important and we shouldn’t undervalue the contributions we can make. It showed me that the greatest thing any of us can do with the time we’re on earth is do what we can to make the world a better place than it was by the time we leave it. It also reminded me that friends can be family, and in fact sometimes friends can be a more fulfulling family than our biological family. It taught me the strength there is in compassion and morals, and that if we allow our moral codes and emotions for others (empathy, sympathy, gratitude, selflessness, love, appreciation) guide us, our actions will be positive. Finally Angel showed me the importance of never giving up, no matter how hopeless everything may seem. Charles Gunn ended the series about to die and his final actions were to fight an army of creatures and his final words will “Best make ‘em [his final moments] count” and that just speaks to me on such a deep level.

Buffy - There are so many lessons to be taken from Buffy. I think the main one I took from it is similar to Charmed and that’s how powerful and strong women can be. Buffy Summers is an inspirational figure to me, I think she’s incredible. The resillience, determination and courage she displays floors me and she’s exactly the kind of role model I look up to.

Movies

Hector and the Search for Happiness (2014) had a profound affect on me when I watched it and made me realise that having amazing life experiences and travelling will not necessarily make you happy and that what you think might be the root of your happiness might not be at all.

13 Going on 30 (2004) taught me to always be upfront and honest about your feelings when you love someone even if you get rejected or get your heartbroken, and also how special friendship is (not that I didn’t know that already, but it really reinforced it for me).

School of Rock (2003) showed me the value of having fun in the classroom, of having a teacher that is able to speak to pupils on a level and the value of letting kids explore other creative and practical avenues outside of traditional academia (maths, science etc.).

Titanic (1997) has always been inspiring to me because I learned so much from both Jack and Rose. I learned how important it is to be courageous enough to follow your heart no matter how scary it might be, that material posessions and money do not equate to happiness, that love can happen quickly in certain circumstances, that even someone that has been in our life for the shortest amount of time can have the greatest impact, that fun and passion and adventure are a necessary part of life and definitley of love.

Matilda (1996) taught me that we’re all special in our own way. There are so many more I could name

Disney (my faves were Lion King, 101 Dalamatians, Oliver and Company, Dumbo and Bambi) taught me to always be true to myself and to be brave enough to follow my heart and do what’s right no matter what.

There are so many other shows and movies I could list, because I think that I take something valuable from most things I watch, but these are the main ones that came to mind. Interestingly, I think I definitley took more value from shows/movies I watched when I was younger in comparison to shows I’ve watched more recently. Perhaps that’s because when I was a child and teenager I was more lost and so actively looking for the kind of shows/movies and characters that would help guide and inspire me. I think this really shows the value of television and film and why it means so much to so many of us on this site.

I named shows and movies rather than characters, but I think if I named characters the list would be even longer because there are so many characters that I’ve connected with over the years that have genuinely helped me get through things. I think that characters are a great way for people to deal with internal thoughts and feelings. I don’t want to list characters now because this is already long enough, but let me know if you want me to talk more specifically about characters and I’d be happy to.

Thanks for asking!

#answered #anonymous #personal #this really got me thinking #thanks anon #it was really interesting to think about this #and made me realise how much value shows/movies have

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weapon13whitefang · 7 years

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how about meth, meredu, and bethyl for the sad otp meme! plz & thx

I can do that! Thanks for the ask, nonny! Yaaaay!

TWD Meth

who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Merle, but only for the simple fact that he grew up seeing kindness as a weakness that his father used against him and Daryl and their mother. So having someone give him kindness in any form is always so foreign to him.

who flinches at sudden movements?

Beth, because Merle can be a loose canon and hard to prepare for and he can be up in your face and you don’t know if he’s gonna explode and leave a mess or just growl at you like a cornered animal.. Merle actually flinches very subtly when it comes to Beth doing sudden things he doesn’t expect - like hand holding or soft touches or hugs from behind.

who is most confused as to why their S.O. is still with them?

Merle, though simply because of deep rooted insecurities on his part. Beth has her moments of confusion on how they’re still together, but for the most part she trusts that things will work out and has faith in them. Merle, more often than he’d ever admit aloud, is always waiting for the other shoe to drop and for things to go wrong.

who has to constantly check their S.O. still loves them?

Merle does it in a possessive sort of way. It’s kind of bad on his part, but he can make a test out of it against Beth. He does feel a smidgen of guilt for it later when she’s still standing by him, but not enough to not do it again later.

who says the other/s would be better off with someone else?

Beth has made the comment to Merle before that she wonders if she is a burden to him. While she doesn’t want to throw him to someone else, she will question if she’s keeping him “tied down” or “feeling obligated” to be with her. Which always gets a rough squash from Merle.

who gets surprised when they are given gifts?

Beth because getting a gift is not something she’s ever prepared for with Merle. Again, he’s unpredictable. So it’s hard for her to always know how to react to getting a simple gift from him - a guitar he found, new clothes, a baby book for her to use for Judith, more notebooks to write in, etc etc etc.

who is most likely to break down on the other and how does their S.O. attempt to calm them down?

That would be Merle. Age aside, Beth’s a lot better at her emotions than people give her credit for. She knows most of that falls on her trying to take her life, but she doesn’t hold that view against them. Merle, however, knows his emotions, but he often cages them down and uses them in unproductive ways. So an occasional break down isn’t impossible for the man.

who is most self conscious in public?

Neither of them. Merle could give a fuck about what others think and Beth has made it clear that she’s going to do what she feels is right, regardless of what others think of her for it.

who is more likely to apologize a million time for a tiny mistake?

Both, though it’s different how. Beth would vocalize her apologies over and over because she’d want Merle to be sure and comforted to hear her words. Merle is more of an actions speak kind of guy, so he’d show it in subtle ways; holding her tighter, little brushes of skin on skin, etc.

who admits they’re scared only when they think their S.O. is asleep and how does the other react?

Beth admits that sometimes she wakes up to dreams of her mother dying and to dreams of loosing him and everyone in the prison, hinting to him her insecurity that she is just some stupid girl and not strong enough like him or Carol or Michonne. And Merle’s way of handling that is to basically say she is a stupid girl if she thinks she’s weak just because she can’t chop a walker to bits like Michonne or scare the balls off men like Mouse. Merle is good at reading people, and would gruffly but with a gentle hold on her, explain that she is strong in ways that others can no longer be; kind, carring, she sings, she still smiles, she’s patient and keeps a fire of hope burning. With his knowledge - which Merle has a lot from reading - he’d make the off-hand comment that she’s like Hestia, Greek Goddess of the hearth, home, domesticity, and family. Which Beth would tease him a little about calling her a Goddess to which he’d actually shrug and say “Yer my Goddess, ain’t cha?” and that would just ensure cute blushing from Beth and stiffening of Merle beause “shit I didn’t mean ta say that sappy shit out loud” lol.

who never thinks they’re good enough for the other?

Merle believes he truly is not good enough for Beth and believes he should let her go, but he’s stubborn and greedy enough to want to keep her to himself.

who takes a bullet for the other

Definetly both, seeing as Beth would throw herself instinctively to protect Merle and Merle would rather be shot than see Beth be shot down before him if he can shield her sooo yeah, both.

Meredu

who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Yondu, only because kindness and sentimental gestures can get you tossed out an airlock or worse with a bunch of space pirates who would look at that kind of stuff as a weakness and not something good for a Captain to show.

who flinches at sudden movements?

Meredith, though not often anymore these days. At first it was because she didn’t know the rough Captain and she never knew if his motives were for her gain or his. Now though - over time - she trusts Yondu and flinches are rare and in-between. Now Yondu has one or two flinches, but they’re always due to a PTSD from his time as a slave and while he’s much better at channeling those things, they still happen.

who is most confused as to why their S.O. is still with them?

Yondu, because he knows what he’s done in the past and what he will do. He’s killed many a men. He’s sent children to their death for profit. He’s lied and cheated and stole. He’s done some pretty bad things and he knows his hands are stained with sin. What pirates isn’t? So he never understands completely why Meredith would let herself - willingly - be touched by him or why she would willingly touch him.

who has to constantly check their S.O. still loves them?

Both are a bit insecure in the L department. Yondu has his baggage - his past with being a slave (sold by his own parents), sending children to their death, his fallout with Stakar (daddy/big brother figure) and the other Ravagers, his thieving and lying and killing - and Meredith having her trust issues because of Ego basically mind-fucking her up and using her for his gain (even if she absolutely loves Peter to death and would die for him), and then discovering what he’s done to his other flings and their children… Well lets just say they both have to check in on the L train sometimes to feel better.

who says the other/s would be better off with someone else?

Yondu, as - again - man has his hang ups. But also because he knows Meredith is a rare kind of woman who sees past someones appearance to see them for who they are. And even the worst of the worst Ravagers, she does her best to look past their dark cover to who they are and Yondu believes that if she stays with him - stays aboard the Eclector and around the Ravager life and around his banished crew - she’ll be “tainted”. Meredith finds that a loud of crockshit and has told him so more than once.

who gets surprised when they are given gifts?

Both, though only at first. Because the first time Yondu finds a little trinket figure - a damn Ziggy Stardust figure (come on I know it’s not time period appropriate but it would be damn cute) - on his council and learns who it’s from, he can’t even try to hide his awe as he holds the trinket like it’s made of precious material. And Meredith is on straight surprise when she goes to her room and finds that Yondu has found a junker that has a rather impressive Terra collection and pays a lot of units to get new clothes, a damn mini record player with records, and a bunch of mix tapes and even toys for Peter and well… Yeah. They both aren’t ready for those little gestures and so the first few times are surprises. Afterwards, it’s heartwarming appreciation.

who is most likely to break down on the other and how does their S.O. attempt to calm them down?

Meredith would eventually break down when she learns the truth of just who Ego - a man she though loved her and would love Peter and a man she gave up a lot for when he was on earth - really is and what he’s done to his “other loves” and their children and how he uses people and she’d feel a stab of realizing he used her and how she starts to see that the love she was feeling was all just a lie and everything she assured herself and others about him was all a lie and yeah it would cause a snap in her. And Yondu would be so awkward at first but he would try and he’d scoop her in his arms and just hold her like he thinks he’s supposed to and what an old instinct - one he hasn’t used in a long long time - is telling him to do for this sad, breaking, Terran woman.

who is most self conscious in public?

Yondu, because he knows he can’t let others see that he loves Meredith and Peter with everythig he has because there are those on his ship that would raise hell and would kill - try to kill - him and Meredith and Peter and he will not risk their deaths and he can’t afford to go offing all the assholes who would go against him because then he’d be real down on man-power and plus it would just get back to enemies outide his ravager crew, that he has a heart for the Terrans. Meredith, personally, has said, quit blank, “Fuck them” and “I can take care of myself, Yondu” over the whole ordeal.

who is more likely to apologize a million time for a tiny mistake?

Neither are really word types, but Meredith would vocalize it more than Yondu would. They’re both more on their actions than anything.

who admits they’re scared only when they think their S.O. is asleep and how does the other react?

Yondu, but only when he was very drunk. He admits to Meredith that he’s fearful of her dying infront of him and loosing Peter and that he’s waiting for her to scoop up Peter and find a way back to Earth and how he worries Ego will track them down and take her and Peter from him and he just word vomits this all to her and Meredith does cry because these are fears she never thought of in solid thoughts but hearing Yondu slur them out to her breaks her heart and scares her as well but she’d straighten up and just clutch him and talk him down and just cry a little.

who never thinks they’re good enough for the other?

Yondu, again, back to his baggage and his belief that he’s just going to hurt and taint Meredith and Peter.

who takes a bullet for the other

Blasters hurt like a mother fucker and Meredith has a nice scar on her back from one when she was trying to protect Yondu and Peter. Yondu has been shot before and isn’t about to ever see Meredith be hit again or let Peter loose his mama so he wouldn’t think about putting himself as a shield. Course the fucker that shoots either has an angry Peter, angry Ravagers (ones who like Yondu and the Quills), and a Yaka arrow or another blaster to deal with… So it’s not all bad!

Bethyl (Warning, lots of Daryl answers!)

who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Daryl, because he’s waiting for the act to be yanked from him or to be hit for it. It takes him awhile to realize that Beth isn’t out to hurt him. Not on purpose, anyway, and that her acts are just meant to be acts of kindness or affection towards him

who flinches at sudden movements?

Daryl, seeing as growing up where he had to be ready to fight or flight from his old man and he isn’t always ready for sudden touches or approaches from Beth. He works on it but there’s always that subtle but present flinch.

who is most confused as to why their S.O. is still with them?

Daryl, as he only spots the flaws in himself and Beth is constantly trying to scrub those fears away and over time they dwindle but Daryl will always have that stray feeling of awe that Beth stays by his side.

who has to constantly check their S.O. still loves them?

Daryl, though he hates that because he should know that Beth loves him because she’s stayed by his side but he can’t fully grasp that Beth is giving her heart to him and always will. So he has to keep searching and asking in subtle ways to ease himself. And Beth always is ready to show and say her love for him.

who says the other/s would be better off with someone else?

Daryl, though he loaths the idea of anyone being with Beth and it burns like bad beer in his belly and twists his heart to think that she could be with anyone she wanted but that dark part of him would say it’d be better for her.

who gets surprised when they are given gifts?

Beth, as Daryl doesn’t seem like the gift giving type. But then she comes to understand that Daryl is - amusingly - like a big cat and like a cat, he leaves “presents” - thankfully not dead mice or birds but he has brought her a full possum before - to show his affection and love.

who is most likely to break down on the other and how does their S.O. attempt to calm them down?

Daryl has broken down and Beth stepped up and held him together as he lets himself go and cries and she just stays quiet and lets him let his pain out through his tears and angry, venomously spit words. Then when all is said and done, she’d softly tell him why he’s wrong but that she understands and wouldn’t damn him for those feelings but wouldn’t let him hang on them.

who is most self conscious in public?

Daryl, which stems from his low self-esteem and insecurities and uncertainty with his place among people and not wanting people to strike at Beth because she’s with him. Though Beth is always ready to point out that their family trusts and respects Daryl as much as she does and everyone is actually rather accepting and pleased with it, even if it is a little surprising to a few.

who is more likely to apologize a million time for a tiny mistake?

Beth, as she has her own insecurities that she’s a burden to Daryl since she’s not as strong as the others in the physical sense. But like Beth brushes away Daryl’s fears and insecurities of himself, Daryl - in his gruff voice and ways - says she’s damn stupid for thinking she’s weak and says she’s tough and says it with such affirmation that Beth has no choice but to believe him.

who admits they’re scared only when they think their S.O. is asleep and how does the other react?

Both, as Daryl fears loosing Beth and Beth fears that Daryl will see her as useless someday and want to leave her and they both are startled by the others fear as they never even thought that of the other and it does cause a heated argument but it ends in hugs and affectionate calling of the other stupid.

who never thinks they’re good enough for the other?

Both and it causes arguments between them and honestly it’s actually Carol who has to set them both straight for being ridiculous, in her opinion.

who takes a bullet for the other

Both neither regret it besides making the other one get scared.

And that’s all of theeeeeemmm!

#the walking dead #twd meth #guardians of the galaxy #meredu #yondu udonta #meredith quill #bethyl

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sarahburness · 6 years

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It’s Not All Love and Light: Why We Can’t Ignore the Dark and Just “Be Positive”

“The dark night of the soul comes just before revelation.” ~Joseph Campbell

If you frequent Instagram or any other social media platform these days, you may notice countless posts about positivity, self-help, yoga, and green juice. And gluten-free everything.

Most of us equate these messages with spirituality and good vibes. I won’t disagree. These messages do promote good vibes. But, the problem is these posts don’t tell the whole story, and once we log off, many of us still feel incomplete, fearful, and insecure because all of these “influencers” and gurus seem to have it all figured out.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: None of us has it all figured out. We cannot possibly summarize the complexity and fluidity of our lives in one post or yoga pose. And from experience, I can tell you that before you get to the love and light part, there’s a lot to muddle through. As they say, Instagram posts are oftentimes just someone’s highlight reel.

It’s easy to get enticed by gurus because they seem to have all the answers and to always be positive no matter what. When I followed a few well-known, self-proclaimed spiritual teachers, I put them on a pedestal and ignored my own inner guru. I also constantly compared myself to them because I wasn’t blissful 24/7, as they seemed to be.

Thankfully, that was short-lived. While I honor and respect everyone’s journey, I now realize that I resonate with a vibe of authenticity, not one that only allows others to see the positive without ever discussing the dark side of life.

I’m inspired by the teachers who share their struggles and transmute them in the name of love and healing, not the ones who claim to always be happy and positive, or who claim they have all the answers.

The spiritual journey is extremely personal. It leads you to connect to your true essence so you can start making choices from your highest self. The self that’s rich with love, joy, and wisdom. The self that knows which course is best for you. The self that wants you to learn self-love and self-fulfillment and to experience joy and overcome challenges with grace.

You cannot capture all of this on Instagram, I promise you.

On this journey, every day is a new discovery and adventure, and yes, there will be days where you feel completely off and perfectly human. So, don’t stress; you are still on a spiritual journey even if there are times when you seem “negative” or swear off positive practices like yoga.

You are still precious.

You are still loved.

You are still so incredibly worthy.

The beauty of the spiritual journey is that while you discover the infinite love inside of you and tap into your beauty and uniqueness, you also fall in love with your humanness. You start to accept that you are meant to feel all emotions, while also finding ways to be in alignment with what feels good to you.

In my experience, the work—returning home to yourself—begins by simply acknowledging that something is missing and that you feel disconnected, off, or incomplete. From there, you need to lean into the darkness instead of denying it with positivity (what’s known as a “spiritual bypass”).

The journey will involve facing your beliefs head on and learning to release and reshape the ones that don’t serve you.

It will ask you to visit parts of your life and mind that you are ashamed of and would rather ignore or kill off.

It will ask you to release old wounds and drop the revenge-like mentality against people and circumstances that have hurt you.

It will require you to visit painful memories and comfort that inner child in you who needs to be nurtured.

It will require you to be honest with yourself about how committed you are to change.

These are just some of the questions that I have had to answer thus far:

Am I truly willing to forgive and move on? Am I willing to see a past hurt as a messenger or a lesson?

Am I willing to make new mistakes with the understanding that no one is perfect?

Am I willing to question the beliefs that keep me stuck and feeling depleted?

Am I willing to let go of relationships that drain me?

Am I willing to change my lifestyle in the name of healing?

Am I willing to trust life, accept what needs to go, and embrace what needs to stay?

The answers came with many tears, and there were many days that I didn’t want to get out of bed because all I could do was relive my mistakes. I was cleansing my soul and at times reliving some painful moments.

I embarked on this journey to connect with myself again, to connect with my divine essence and the joy that had previously eluded me.

This connection didn’t magically appear. I had some homework to do. I started to slowly change my diet, although I still struggle with that, I had uncomfortable conversations when I needed to speak my truth, and I found new routines that helped me stay connected with my body, including qigong.

I found peaceful ways to be creative and have fun, like painting. I also showed up to every coaching session with an open heart, an eagerness to learn something new about myself, and a willingness to release old patterns, habits, and thoughts that were keeping me trapped.

Though I will continuously evolve every day that I am alive, I feel much closer to my personal truth. And I feel more comfortable expressing it. That’s the true journey.

Many realizations came to me when I slowed down enough to connect with myself. For example, I realized I’d lived my entire like as an extrovert when in fact my deep essence is stillness and introversion. I recharge in the quiet spaces and I nourish myself when I disconnect for a bit.

This was not an overnight revelation, but a long journey with many layers. I got to my truth (just the tip of it for now) by releasing emotions and beliefs that were just plain heavy and rooted in fear and doubt.

This took time.

So, the truth is that no matter how much green juice you drink or how many yoga poses keep you in shape, if the emotional release is not part of the routine, it will be challenging to maintain lasting change. The emotional healing is the hardest part. It’s the part that I resisted for a long time until I became comfortable facing my shortcomings, my past traumas, and my conditioning.

Change only occurred when I developed a genuine curiosity about my life and how I live it. I was eager to meet my traumas and brave enough to understand my triggers.

While I have not magically eradicated all of my fears, I have a new perspective and I maintain a daily routine that keeps me feeling loved and protected so that when challenges arise—because they will—I have a foundation of self-love and self-compassion, knowing that we all struggle.

I try to eat well to balance my moods. I stay creative every day. I pick one tool daily—mantras, my own customized prayers, salt baths, sitting and breathing, walking in nature—to help me with any challenges. And I try to move my body daily. These little efforts keep me centered.

It’s easy to recite positive mantras and flash the peace sign, but the real transformation begins inside. Once you expose the darkness, love and light can then enter. And when darkness comes to visit again, the light within you will give you strength to face any challenge.

The light in you will always guide you home. Keep moving—you’re doing great!

About Christine Rodriguez

Christine Rodriguez is a spiritual life coach dedicated to helping others transform beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that no longer serve them so they can create a life that’s aligned with their true desires and capabilities. To work with her, please visit miraculousshifts.com. You can find her on Instagram @Miraculousshifts.

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from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/not-all-love-and-light-cant-ignore-dark-be-positive/

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thejustinmarshall · 6 years

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Learning To Be Funny

Probably every other time my friend Lee and I came to the end of an approach hike at the base of a climb, dropped our backpacks and looked up, he cracked the same joke:

“I think we’ll bivy here and go for the summit in the morning.”

I laughed the first time he said it, and chuckled every time after, even though I’d heard the joke before. It was funny because when he said it, we’d never walked more than three hours from the car, sometimes only a half hour, and the climb itself would only require a few more hours before we’d start walking back to the car. Bivying at the base of the climb would be ridiculous because a) the climb wasn’t nearly a big enough effort to require sleeping for a night at the base; b) it was usually 8 or 9 a.m. when he said this, and we had 10 or 12 hours of daylight to complete the climb; and c) of course neither of us had brought sufficient food, water, or gear to spend a night at the base of a climb.

Lee and I were a good match as climbing partners for many reasons, but largely because things almost never got so serious that we couldn’t regularly try to make each other laugh. We both wanted to be climbers, and we both wanted to be funny. And really, climbing and being funny have something common: In order to succeed in either of them, you fail a lot, and both are lifelong processes.

I don’t think anyone is born funny, just like no one is born a climber. You can be born into a funny family, which some people might assume is genetic. I don’t believe that’s correct. I think you’re just surrounded by people who are trying to be funny, and you join in, just as you are not born loving asparagus, but if your family cooks asparagus all the time, you might develop a taste for it. Except being funny is a much more universally useful life skill than cooking asparagus well (just my opinion), though I’ve only started to learn how to cook asparagus very recently, because my family focused on other things.

We got together with my mom’s side of the family as often as we could, seven brothers and sisters raised with an Irish Catholic sense of humor. I can’t say I remember much about the food my grandmother served at dinner, but I remember my face hurting from laughter, and being very young and thinking, “Someday, I’m going to make my Uncle Dan and Uncle Steve laugh.”

This goal took years. I probably started speaking up every once in a while at family dinners when I was seven or eight, saying things that young kids think are funny but adults don’t, and my uncles didn’t laugh. For a long time. In my head, this didn’t mean that I was not a funny person. It meant that I wasn’t funny yet.

—

I probably learned how to tell jokes mostly from my dad, who could find something clever to say in almost any situation, and was a fan of classics like this one:

Dad: Does your face hurt?

Son: No, why?

Dad: It’s killing me.

My dad spent most of his weekday hours working with people, managing the meat department of a grocery store. His job was, of course, to maximize sales of a product for a company, but from what I saw, his No. 1 goal was to make sure people smiled or laughed when there were within 20 feet of him. No. 2 was sales. He seemed to believe that work is work, but we might as well have a good time while we’re doing it.

In his 1993 book SeinLanguage, comedian Jerry Seinfeld wrote about growing up in a family that valued humor:

When I was a kid my father used to take me around with him in his truck. He was in the sign business on Long Island and he had a little shop called the Kal Signfeld Sign Co.

There were few people as much fun to watch work as my father. There has never been a professional comedian with better stage presence, attitude, timing, or delivery. He was a comic genius selling painted plastic signs that said things like “Phil’s Color TV” and cardboard ones like “If you want to raise cattle, why do you keep shooting the bull?”

The thing I remember most about those afternoons is how often my father would say to me, “Sometimes I don’t even care if I get the order, I just have to break that face.” He hated to see those serious businessmen faces. I guess that’s why he, like me, never seemed to be able to hold down any kind of real job.

Often when I’m on stage I’ll catch myself imitating a little physical move or certain kind of timing that he would do.

“To break that face.”

It was a valued thing in my house. I remember when Alan Kind would walk out on the Ed Sullivan Show, hearing my mother say, “Now, quiet.” We could talk during the news but not during Alan King. This was an important man.

My father lived to see me start to make it as a comedian and he was always my most enthusiastic supporter. He taught me a gift is to be given. And just as he gave it to me, I hope I am able to give it to you.

In elementary school, I cracked jokes whenever I could: in answers to teachers’ questions, in classrooms where teachers didn’t mind the occasional wisecrack (or just completely ignored me), at the lunchroom table, to the person sitting next to me or in front of me. In school, you always have an audience. When someone laughed at something I said, it was like getting a test answer correct, only better. Everyone could study and get a test answer right, but landing a joke was creative, too. It was something I could do that was unique.

Students laughed often enough that I kept going. I continued through junior high, and my 7th grade geography teacher, Mr. Button, asked if I would like to write for the school newspaper, which was at that time about 20 xeroxed sheets of pastel-colored paper stapled together. I said yes, and was given a monthly column—in which I tried to be funny—and some article assignments, in which I also tried to be funny first and convey a story secondly.

In writing for the school newspaper, I discovered a new audience of people to try make laugh, without the risk of being there when a joke fell flat. In writing, if no one laughs, you don’t hear the awkward silence.

—

In high school, I tried hard at a lot of things: sports, getting good grades, padding my academic record with lots of activities so I could get into a “good” college. But I always stayed focused on trying to be funny in every situation I could force it into: lobbing jokes up from the back of the class, in the locker room, washing dishes in the back of a restaurant, at the lunch table, in the hallway between classes, in my English writing assignments.

High school can be a tough audience. Even if you’re funny, lots of times your fellow students are focusing on learning and don’t appreciate your wisecracks (this is a 100 percent appropriate response). Other times, they don’t feel like they should laugh in class or they’ll get in trouble (also true). And lastly, your teachers’ job is to help students learn, not to provide the best audience for your jokes that can’t wait until after class, so they often get annoyed at the smartass in the third row (again, 100 percent appropriate), and sometimes to the point of removing a student from class (also appropriate). I spent a lot of time in detention and in the principal’s office. Looking back, I think a lot of people like myself probably owe a lot of teachers apologies.

“I used to think that humor was the only way to appreciate how wonderful and terrible the world is, to celebrate how big life is. … But now I think it’s the opposite. Humor is a way of shrinking from that wonderful and terrible world.” —Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

The thing is, constant humor can be a way of distancing ourselves from dealing with the real world, or internal sadness. The world is wonderful and terrible, and our constant access to news and viewpoints can sometimes make it feel like it’s growing more terrible every day. But creating humor can also be a way of dealing with personal suffering.

In 1975, in a study published in The American Journal of Psychoanalysis, Samuel S. Janus interviewed and psychologically tested 55 full-time comedians, who had been working in the field of comedy for an average of 25 years. In the study’s conclusion, Janus wrote:

The early lives of all the subjects were marked by suffering, isolation, and feelings of deprivation. Humor offered a relief from their sufferings and a defense against inescapable panic and anxiety. The presence of these same needs and fears almost universally accounts for the success of these particular individuals as humorists. The fact that humor is a language of protest appears to mitigate their anxiety and permits them to function. However its role as an aggressive expression in its own right is particularly appropriate for this age.

It is felt that comedians are able to convert their rage from physical to verbal assault and that for many their comic routines are a form of acting out. For the most part, comedians are shy, sensitive, fearful individuals, who fight their fears constantly and who win for only short periods of time, needing repetitively to do battle with the enemy both within and without. They are keenly sensitive people who have an uncanny perception of the needs and fears of their audience. For the most part they are men and women who are empathic and are able to convert fear to humor and terror to laughter.

Everyone has darkness in their lives, no matter how happy their personal story appears from the outside. My life has certainly been no exception, and although the down times have come and gone and it’s definitely not been anything like a Dickens novel, I’ve always used humor to change situations. If I’m uncomfortable, I joke. If I’m anxious about something (often), I joke. When I’m doing a public speaking gig, I joke to try to take the temperature of the crowd: Are they listening? Do they like me? How about now, two minutes later? Do they still like me? At the root of all of it is probably a deep insecurity or lack of self-confidence, and because of that, I joke. If you laugh, I feel OK about myself for a few minutes, and we both win.

My 86-year-old grandmother was literally on her deathbed in June of 2014. I was in the hospital room holding her hand and watching the cardiac monitor, along with my mother, my Uncle Dan, my Uncle Steve, and my Aunt Nora. We all knew that it was probably going to be it for Grandma, and I spent most of the afternoon alternating between trying to swallow a softball-sized lump in my throat and laughing at my aunt and uncles and my mom joking about colonoscopies and Catholic school.

No one was sure if Grandma could hear anything, but we talked to her anyway, and Aunt Nora made up ridiculous song lyrics and sang them while holding Grandma’s hand. For once, I was a little shocked that no one seemed to be taking it quite seriously enough. “Don’t you think I have a lovely singing voice, Brendan?” Aunt Nora said, after one of her songs, and then laughed, and I laughed too.

When I was a kid, I didn’t really understand that I came from a family of goofballs until I had been out of my parents’ house for a few years. I kind of assumed everyone’s dinner conversations were sort of a contest to see who could tell the best story, or make everyone laugh harder than they did at the last person’s joke. Eventually I found out that not everyone acted the way my mom’s family did, which was kind of a bummer. I don’t know how other people handle deathbed situations, but apparently in my mom’s family, we can’t even cry without trying to make each other laugh. There was plenty of crying, but plenty of laughing too. And even if it seemed a little inappropriate, it felt right.

—

In college, I started writing a weekly column for the campus newspaper. I didn’t have a beat, or a theme; just whatever I thought was funny that week. At some point, a fellow student recognized me on campus or at a bar and told me they liked my column in the newspaper that week and it made them laugh, and my marketing career went away just like that. Eleven short years later, I became a full-time writer, finding a space where most people weren’t trying to be funny—climbing and the outdoors—and writing essays about it.

I started a blog and wrote a post every single week whether I felt like it or not, trying hard to give people something to laugh at. Just like in elementary school, some people laughed, and some people didn’t. I always stuck to one principle: Always make fun of “us,” not “them.” I figured we all had enough negative stuff to pull us down on a daily basis, and I didn’t want to be another source of that.

Some weeks, it really took off, and thousands of people read my blog. Some weeks, crickets. I learned to just shrug it off and come up with new stuff for next week. With humor, you’re never going to please 100 percent of the people 100 percent of the time. Some people are going to think you are funny, and some people are not going to think you’re funny. Some people are going to think you are funny, and some people are not going to understand your jokes. Some people are going to think you are funny, and some people are not going to be in the mood. And sometimes, your joke is only funny to you. Which is a learning opportunity. But if people don’t think you’re funny, at least try to keep it so they don’t think you’re an asshole.

—

A few weeks ago, I sat at a table at the Monday night jazz jam at Denver’s Meadowlark Bar, watching the drummer in a four-piece band: a youngish man who was in absolute command of the drumset, never looking at where his sticks landed; only at the bass player, guitar player, or trumpet player. Awed and a little envious, I wondered how he got that good, and how long it took him for the drumset to become an extension of his body. Probably hours of playing every week, for years. I imagined dedicating myself to something so fully. Maybe instead of playing high school football I should have stuck with band, picked up a guitar or a trumpet, and kept practicing through my adult years. Imagine: being able to walk into a jam session with an instrument, sit down for a minute or two to get the feel of it, and then just joining a sort of conversation. That seems like a pretty magical way to live life. If only I had spent more time on learning to play music over the past, you know, 35 years …

Then I thought: I probably spent all that time trying to learn how to be funny.

Humor, I believe, will always be important work, and not just for professional comedians, writers, and actors. Weekly staff meetings need humor, and so do meals with friends and family, and transactions with clerks and servers. I don’t know the meaning of life, but bringing joy to other people seems like a decently noble pursuit. At the end of the day, not much of what we do in our daily lives adds up to much more than folly. Being a goofball, although it may seem like you’re not taking life (or your career) seriously enough, is no more ridiculous than most of the things that take up our time.

Here’s my favorite joke ever, appropriate for all ages and all situations. It’s somewhat dependent on confident delivery and timing, so it’s a great joke to use to practice on people if you don’t think of yourself as particularly funny (but maybe would like to be someday):

A polar bear walks into a bar. He goes up to the bar and says to the bartender,

“I’ll have a gin and ….

…

… tonic.”

The bartender looks at the polar bear and says, “What’s with the big pause?”

The polar bear says, “I don’t know. My dad had ’em too.”

—Brendan

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