#and the years he lived in denial and toxic positivity and everything else he did just so he could find a way and reason to keep living | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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hi suki! wanted to tell you this bc i have no one else to talk about it with ><

( you can answer this when the English chapter releases! i was able to read it because my friend bought the WSJ issue)

I was trying to udnerstand Naoy's character, so I was reding everything from CH138-151 again. I'm kinda sad at how people just calls Naoya a Toji fanboy (though true LMAO) and not realizing how Toji really influenced his persona. Like the admiration Naoya held for Toji is so deeply engraved in him that he, who was called a genius sorcerer as a child, looks up to a man who was called a failure. Toji is probably the only man in the clan that he respected, that's why toji's level of strength became his "picture" to follow. And I think a lot of who Naoya has become is because the Zen'ins literally groomed the decency out of him. Still, though groomed to be everything he is, he himself chose not to change anything about it.

(wait but also?? little naoya looks cute like he would guide old ladies on the ped xing so what the fuck happened after that)

I guess one major reason why he does not respect anyone else in the clan (besides his superiority complex) is because of the Zen'in's concept of what is marked as strong. Like, the way they see and treated him as if he's the best sorcerer in the making, yet failing to see Toji's powers and rejecting him fully. It's something similar to Mai when she said "Maki has talent that I don't. And the clan rejected that; that talent that I lacked", except Naoya is raised to be a confident (arrogant?) child, thus he takes it as a challenge instead and works to achieve it.

So, when Maki reached the level of Toji, I think his reaction wasn't simply stemmed on his "fanboy" antics, but his desperation of being part of that level of strength. I think he's more irritated in the fact that Maki, someone who he does not see anywhere near as strong as he is (though he does say Maki is strong in chapter 138), reached a level of strength that he hasn't; that he is trying hard to achieve. It's also the same with having your favorite superhero getting defeated. And Naoya's in denial that there is someone else who could be the same as Toji.

I like how he's an antagonist that was not build under the foundation of a sob backstory (though it was a v small sneak peak of his background and was mainly centered with his admiration for toji, plus I think people forget that Naoya is an antagonist), how he acknowledges that he has not reached that level of strength. Of course, I'm angsty about his misogynistic ideals. I get that he's from a very traditionalist clan so... yeah. I mean, no child is born evil. Children learn from those around them (I've seen many people say he's trash since he was a kid when he said that "i wonder what miserable face he has", but like he's a kid, he doesn't know what he's saying AHSJFJWJQ8QR he was either taught that or he just learned it from others. Funnily enough, he does say toji has a pretty face now LMAO). Maybe it stems from something else, maybe it didn't.

I'm not saying him trying to kill Megumi is forgotten (Though, the Jujutsu Society is a place where teens get executed for the simple fact that they are too strong, so im not surprised. Just like Noritoshi said, age does not matter in Jujutsu Society). I see now why he was really pissed about Megumi being the head, since Naoya has been promised the position since he was young, only to loose of a 15 year old who is the son of the man he admires :')) However, still, none of it excuses the shit he did. He still has a shitty personality, but it's nice to know a bit of a background.

Anyway, that's all for now. My English is bad so that might be all over the place •`,`• That's just my take on it so I could be wrong or maybe seeing him wrong since we still don't know much abt him. I'm always scared to talk about naoya because the last time i did (on twt) i got a backlash of hate (ppl really do get hate just from admiring someone's characterization). Your blog is like a safe haven for naoya stans, so i thank you for that hehe.

Have a nice day suki!! kisses~

(also this is a PSPSPSPS to a naoya childhood friends au fic pls 👁👁)

bestie omg I am so sorry, I found this deep in my inbox and I am *shakes* and yes yes let’s talk about naoya, I would be more than glad to and I’m sorry I didn’t see this any sooner!! more rants and simping under the cut

I'm kinda sad at how people just calls Naoya a Toji fanboy (though true LMAO) and not realizing how Toji really influenced his persona. Like the admiration Naoya held for Toji is so deeply engraved in him that he, who was called a genius sorcerer as a child, looks up to a man who was called a failure. Toji is probably the only man in the clan that he respected, that's why toji's level of strength became his "picture" to follow. And I think a lot of who Naoya has become is because the Zen'ins literally groomed the decency out of him. Still, though groomed to be everything he is, he himself chose not to change anything about it.

omg for this…I’m actually like…like I love the detail that naoya admires toji? as we can see from the panel of little naoya, it’s like people have already planted in his head that no cursed energy = loser, yet he ended up admiring him and I am,,,my heart is just soft! exactly! just think of naoya born as a genius sorcerer yet his admiration for toji, who is painted as the clan’s failure, helped shape him into who he is! idk but I just really love the fact that naoya, who is like born with the pressure and role of being clan leader, somewhat strays from tradition and ends up finding strength into toji and even strives to follow him or “stand by him” someday. for me, it just shows that perhaps naoya isn’t really half as bad as he should be in an honest sense, meaning that he’s evil or morally corrupt because he was born that way or because he chose to be that way. I do agree that perhaps he is the way he is now because he’s groomed to be like that, but of course, I’m not going to disregard the fact that somewhere along the way, Naoya could’ve matured to choose himself to not embody the misogynistic tradition of the zen’in clan.

This could just be me, but my interpretation of it is that Naoya seems more like the perfect product or embodiment of how the clan shaped him to be, blinded him with false morals and the patriarchy presiding into them. Rather than Naoya being just “a misogynistic arrogant man” in my perspective and my opinion, I see him more into the bigger picture of his toxic upbringing to begin with. Like, no child is born evil unless there’s like a predetermined curse deciding their fate for them, so its partly the Zen’in clan’s fault he’s that way. But Gege showing that Naoya admiring someone the Zen’in clan disregarded, it shows that he is capable of being himself without the clause of his clan enforcing things to him once again, like the whole “he’s gonna be the future clan leader” thing, though that is still heavily embedded within him.

(wait but also?? little naoya looks cute like he would guide old ladies on the ped xing so what the fuck happened after that)

OMGGGG PLEASE THAT’S SO CUTE, HE LOOKED SO INNOCENT AND ADORABLE BUT EVEN AS A CHILD HE WAS ALREADY CALLING PEOPLE A LOSER LIKE EYE

I guess one major reason why he does not respect anyone else in the clan (besides his superiority complex) is because of the Zen'in's concept of what is marked as strong. Like, the way they see and treated him as if he's the best sorcerer in the making, yet failing to see Toji's powers and rejecting him fully. It's something similar to Mai when she said "Maki has talent that I don't. And the clan rejected that; that talent that I lacked",except Naoya is raised to be a confident (arrogant?) child, thus he takes it as a challenge instead and works to achieve it.

Anon, is it just me or like…was his superiority complex also enforced on him by the Zen’in clan as well? Again this could just be me going all psychologist mode on Naoya but the nature of superiority complex is quite interesting, you know! As a psych student, I perfectly understand that superiority complex either stems from several things like a) wanting to live up to one’s or others expectations, b) masking it with a deep stem of insecurity, or c) it’s a coping mechanism. See, I could go on and on about but then I’d have to link all my past studies lmao so let’s just put it on layman’s terms that my interpretation of Naoya’s superiority complex is once again, influenced by the clan. Imagine being a kid born into a clan where people remind you again and again that you’re the future leader, that you would be the one to guide them or protect them or discuss the clan’s future and status once you grow, and you’re quite groomed for it.

For such pressure to be put on a child’s shoulders, it kind of strips off his youth and instead of him enjoying his youth, I can imagine that it took a toll on little Naoya, and the reason he grew his superiority complex is his way to cope and reach the standards and expectations that is given to him. Of course, he’s a kid, he might start to wonder, “Can I even do all of that?” but seeing as the Zen’in clan highly measures strength and growth based on abilities, cursed energy, and overall just to conform into the image they’ve held for years, it’s quite obvious that Naoya can’t exactly voice out his worries over this, so instead, he masks it with a superiority complex that absolutely boosts him to a higher level, thus giving him the confidence he needed to carry out his tasks and the reassurance that, “Yes, I am worthy and I will be the clan leader.” As for your theory that he takes it as a challenge, I can see where you’re coming from! I think Naoya is the type of person who definitely likes to challenge himself, but one of the reasons I love his character so much is because he’s not completely a brainless “head on straight to war” type of person too.

He knows his limits and knows which side he should be in, as showed when Yuuta came and mans surrendered easily. Idk why but to me, Naoya, who is such an arrogant confident man who has high trust in abilities, but at the same time can admit when someone is stronger than him (like him admiring Toji and Gojo) just makes him more human and a little more beautifully flawed. Like, he’s not perfect and he’s most definitely an irritating character, but the way he was written is just *chef’s kiss*

Yes, ah I really do love this theory that he’s more irritated because in his mind, he’s like, “I’m a genius sorcerer! I was meant to be clan leader! This is my rightful spot to be a strong one, so how come Maki, who is a woman, with no zero cursed energy has reached the level of the person I looked up most to?” again, Naoya didn’t say that and those are just my opinions and brainrot so don’t come at me for it uwu, but yeah I do think that he’s very aggravated that he didn’t react that level first. Because I guess you could say, he’s probably alluding that Maki reaching Toji’s strength = them being equals, and ofc Naoya wanted to be the one standing beside them. It probably hit his superiority complex that he wasn’t the one in Maki’s spot especially when he tried so hard to achieve it, and considering the gifts he was given (same cursed technique as his dad and him having cursed energy) it threw him off.

Yeah, Naoya is most likely in denial and becomes aggressive over it, although I don’t really mean physically aggressive because Naoya is actually quite calm and ‘composed.’ If ever he did go on a rampage, he does it in such a suave, calculated manner with this silent confidence that he will win. It kind of makes you root for him because he even fools the audience (by audience I mean ME) that he’s going to OWN that fight but whoop, he got his ass kicked. Plus ten points for confidence and a bonus thousand points for being sexy though!!! Yeah, omg he’s probably in disbelief that a woman of all people could be like the person he admired most.

OMG YESSSS ANON YES YES YES *slams down simping button angrily* That’s what I like about him too! Even though Naoya is cocky and wayyyy too arrogant for his own good, I also like that he acknowledges he’s not quite in a level he wants to be in yet. And hah, his backstory, it wasn’t totally sob because it’s obvious he was much too doted on, but I still hate how they made him like that. True, if he’s still carrying the same misogynistic ideals as he is now in an age where he has the mental capacity to improve and be different, then the belief has become more of a choice than something engraved into him, which I am really disappointed and not really into because of course, he’d be much better if he wasn’t like that in the first place. LOLOLOLOL yes yes he’s a kid, it sure as hell doesn’t excuse the way he is now but like just think !!

if a kid was spouting out such mean words and CLEARLY no one is correcting him, who really is the problem here? A child has a harder time deciphering what is right and wrong by himself without proper guidance. And he didn’t have proper guidance, they really just let him be like that and it’s because the clan!! sucks !! ass !! YEAH he probably called toji with a miserable face because he hasn’t seen him before but after seeing the iconic dilf, Naoya gone be like, “anyways, I lied, moving on—”

I'm not saying him trying to kill Megumi is forgotten (Though, the Jujutsu Society isa place where teens get executed for the simple fact that they are too strong, so im not surprised. Just like Noritoshi said, age does not matter in Jujutsu Society). I see now why he was really pissed about Megumi being the head, since Naoya has been promised the position since he was young, only to loose of a 15 year old who is the son of the man he admires :')) However, still, none of it excuses the shit he did. He still has a shitty personality, but it's nice to know a bit of a background.

yeah no of course, no worries! even as a hardcore naoya stan, I can admit this dude is TERRIBLE for so many reasons! yeah I mean that could be pretty irritating because he was born for it, raised to be clan leader, groomed and expected he’d have that role, but nah someone else took his throne. yeah I’m with you on that, naoya has a shitty personality and I would totally smack him if he was real because he makes my eyes roll to the back of my head, but knowing his background and theorizing (read: me going all psychologist mode because he’s the only character I ever cared about to apply my studies into) his character is quite fun. I wish we had more scenes with Naoya though, I really hoped he’d play a bigger role but he just…died, I guess, though I’m starting to believe that maybe he really isn’t dead! Gege did him dirty omg I’ll cry again if it’s really GENUINELY confirmed my baby is gone.

ah no worries about your English, I didn’t really notice anything wrong with it tbh! And I understand, these are all just our opinions/theories/perspectives, we could be wrong or not, we don’t really know because we’re not Gege (⋟﹏⋞) NOOOO PEOPLE HATED YOU ON THAT? ISTG I’VE NEVER SEEN A FANDOM CANCEL SOMEONE AS MUCH AS JJK FANDOM CANCELS NAOYA AND NAOYA STANS LIKE – he’s just a fictional character omg, cancelling naoya is understandable because I would too but attacking his fans? or generally anyone who talks about him in a neutral or not in a way that goes, “yeah I would punch this mfer” is just?? doesn’t make sense to me bestie, people really choose to do that with their time yikes.

AND AWWW THANK YOU YES I PROTECT ALL MY FELLOW NAOYA STANS HERE, I respect who people simp for because if it’s what you enjoy and as long as you’re not hurting anybody, then it really doesn’t matter and it’s not a big deal! and you’re always welcome here uwu. have an even nicer day bestie and I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner AAAA I really loved talking about this tho HEHEHEH I’m not actually too much of a JJK theorist since I’m not smart enough to pay attention or infer from all the details but NAOYA HMMMMM also childhood friends fic? hmu let’s hear it!! also ahh hmm idk but i get really happy whenever people talk to me freely about naoya bcos even tho i have been a naoya simp for like three months, it was not until recently that people came to me about him and i have just been simping alone (bcos people MADDDD) spsppsps okay rant over thank you anon i love you kith kith <3

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #jjk: manga spoilers #tw: misogyny

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the-velveteen-victorian · 3 years

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Hi Elle! I used to follow you on your old mega-popular tumblr. I really love your new one. :) I know that you've lived in a "super spiritual" community for several years now (not sure if you want me to publicly say the place). What is the community like? Is it more bad than good? What are some strengths and weaknesses of the place/people? Thank you! I've heard mixed things and really respect your insights.

Haha I knew I would get this question one day! If I could title my response, it would be, "Why I've Chosen to Keep My Distance from the New Age Community in the American Southwest." I info-dump and write novels, so get ready! =)

I think there is something to be said for defining things neutrally for yourself overall. Fortunately, I've been able to easily do that in this instance due to: 1. Being introverted and not "needing" a big community experience and 2. Having wonderful friends all over the globe that I am able to interact with all throughout my year. With that being said, if I am being 100% honest and real with you, I truly believe that the new age community where I am is more toxic than good. Here is why. I will have a positive note at the end.

A quick preface: I am not calling out any particular individual(s) and will not be naming names.... quite frankly, there are just too many and I'm not here to humiliate people. Secondly, these traits can take place in ANY community, spiritual or otherwise. But these are things that I feel a spiritual community should be more self-aware of... and sadly right now, they are not.

********ATTENTION: There is a big content and trigger warning here: There will be mentions of sui****, sexual *******, and gaslighting/narcissism, terfs, eating disorders, and other things that could be very upsetting. Proceed with caution and stop reading if you find yourself getting stressed, triggered, or deeply upset.*********

1. Malignant narcissism and community insulation from constructive criticism. I have never seen such a ubiquitous display of malignant narcissism in all my life in a collective, save for some conservative Christian environments in my growing up years. Go onto almost any youtube channel for the Sedona community and you will see very few negative comments… why? (And I have watched this for a long time) Almost ANY criticism of anyone’s channel or blog is instantly removed. There was a time when people who simply noted that some of these small “influencers” were saying toxic things were sent cease and desist letters. The community is very tight knit and displays many marks of a cult. One of these indicators is that they all protect each other and hype each other up on their channels and blogs, while labeling ANY criticism (healthy or not) as someone who is being “triggered.” The younger part of the community cares about looking perfect and having everyone worship them, but has very little spiritual substance. It’s always about who did the alien thing “before it was cool” or “who can do a backflip off of a steep cliff without breaking their neck because their synchronicity is on point.” One youtuber said once that she only wanted to hang out with “pretty” people because they were purer expressions of the divine. The older generation expresses narcissism by assuming they know more than everyone else. Good luck having a conversation on controversial topics with any of them. They are right, you are wrong. If you argue, you are “triggered” and “seeking for truth.” If you don't believe that there are reptilians on the moon with a secret base, you've drunk the kool-aid. Not a good environment to foster open sharing and knowledge. The men have a particular problem with this when it comes to topics of sex and intimacy. If you are a woman and don’t want to “surrender” to your partner (in a lot of vague and unclear ways), you are out of alignment with the divine feminine. Most of the men believe that they should be allowed to "hunt" (look for sexual partners/spiritual twin flames) and that women should do everything in their power to be softly feminine so that they can sync up and recognize each other's souls.

2. A full denial of science and medicine. Look, I get it. We all want to solve our own medical dilemmas and use herbs to cure all ills. I try to solve any (non life threatening) health issues I have the “natural” way first too… often, I have great success! The problem comes when the community rejects all western medicine, most science (that doesn’t affirm their beliefs) and any medical opinion that has… actually been to a real medical school. There is a strong anti-vaccination movement coupled with the belief in using yoni eggs religiously and doing colonics every week (though science tells us this isn’t a great idea overall). I used a different type of yoni egg for awhile to see what would happen, but trust me, your pelvic health is going to be better without them. You will be judged harshly for going to a “mainstream” doctor to get antibiotics for a serious infection and will most likely be gaslit into oblivion regarding “what you did to attract” your infection etc.

I have midwifed for many years now and have extensive “mainstream” training to be able to do this legally. Once, I was working with another midwife on a mother who was having her first baby. The laboring woman had an ideal birth in mind like most people do. Long story short, I discerned while she was laboring that the baby was in intense distress and that the mother was displaying very concerning signs of a life-threatening condition. When I insisted on calling an ambulance and getting the woman to the hospital, the other midwife said that I was interfering with nature. I explained simply that if we didn’t get said woman to a hospital, the baby would most certainly die and the mother’s life would hang in the balance. Her response was that: “Some babies don’t deserve to live and I shouldn’t invite karma by interfering with nature’s course.” I called an ambulance anyway and the mother was taken for an emergency c-section. The mother was very disappointed about not being able to follow her birth plan. However, after the birth (she and baby ended up being okay thank goodness) she sat down with me personally and thanked me for making the decision I did. She said that one of the doctors explained that if I had waited another hour, both she and the baby would be dead. Apparently, this other “midwife” had also had her license revoked a year before for endangering a different laboring person and child. This sounds like a stand-alone freak incident, but I can cite 15-20 other situations just like this one where life-threatening emergencies were viewed as opportunities for good karma and growth… and that western medical intervention would invite bad karma.

Regarding science, if you point to the fact that jade yoni eggs are likely to cause an infection, most of the new age community will scoff and say that they don’t trust science (the logic being that science once explained volcanos as angry gods or something and now cannot be trusted overall). If you don't wear blue-blocking glasses anytime you look at a screen, apparently you've already succumbed to mind control. You get my point… It’s so bad that the new age community is willing to endanger people’s lives and place the blame on the victims for being out of alignment with synchronicity. This one bullet point could be talked about for hours.

3. A lack of discernment and victim blaming. Many have heard about Bentinho Massaro and his crew from that time when they swept through Sedona a couple years ago. The core of the Sedona community started blindly following him… some of them wanted to boost their online platforms by being associated with a well-known figure. Others wanted a guru… and others were just curious and got sucked in by his charisma. All one had to do was google him. He has allegations of physically beating his followers, gaslighting people, torturing animals in his childhood, and ignoring the fact that an alarming number of his followers commit suicide. With all of this knowledge at our fingertips, the popular new age “influencers” went so far as to get in polyamorous relationships with him, validate his platform, and gaslight people who, sadly, committed sui**** because of certain things he said in his teachings. It was insane. Now, many of the people who followed him try to pretend it never happened or that they had no part in it. Many of them claim to have “gifts of the spirit” and to have stellar discernment.

One of the people who got into a polyamorous relationship with this person did an Instagram post where she basically said that if someone is being r*ped they should show their attacker love and surrender to what is happening so that they could experience unconditional love and come back to the "light." I honestly couldn’t believe what I was reading at first when I saw it. The part that was heartbreaking was when I read the comments and watched people (not just women and men) berate themselves for “fighting” while something terrible happened to them in the past. A few of them were teenagers. I made it a point to personally message the ones I was able to, and thankfully, a good number did respond positively. This exact issue has occurred on youtube channels, blogs, and in-person encounters. I’m just citing ONE online instance of this horrible, misaligned belief. Keep in mind that the person who did this post abandoned her disabled child with a family she barely knew to pursue a sexual relationship with Bentinho.

4. TERFS/anti-LGBTQ/anti-feminism. This falls under the categories of relationships, sex, autonomy, and social issues, but expands into much more overall.

A chain of videos came out a couple years ago where about 5 women in the new age community each did a presentation on what was wrong with the “divine feminine” these days. They were saying that women had been erased because they were not conforming to gender roles or seeking out conscious relationships. They all referenced that “women are angry” and basically said it was wrong for women to feel this way and that angry female energy was throwing our whole environment out of balance and even contributing to global warming somehow. They empathized with toxic people/men/known violent incels and said that women needed to get over their traumas and be more available for the divine masculine to show up. They dehumanized women by saying they shouldn’t be expressing anger, glossed over sexual a******, and blocked everyone in the comments who took a stand against what they were saying. The general consensus is that feminists are just angry women who need to get over their trauma.

Many people in the new age community also believe that if you incarnate in a particular body with certain biological parts, you incarnated that way for a reason. Changing it extensively is to erase “the spiritual lessons you were supposed to learn.” Basically, they stand against trans people, nonbinary people, gender nonconforming people… etc. I can go deeper with this if you want, but that is the gist of it without writing a novel within a novel.

Most of them take an active stance against intersectional feminism and use exclusive language to shut out anyone who doesn’t conform to the binary. A few of them are more passive-aggressive about how they do this: refusing to show any support for the LGBTQUIA+ community or mention social issues at all, even when someone is pointing out that they did something hurtful or offensive.

5. Appropriating Indigenous cultures and using past lives as an excuse. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard a white new age person say that something is their “spirit animal” or seen one wear Native American/indigenous headdresses to tight-knit community events, citing that they were “Native American” in their past life and that they are entitled to use these symbols, items, and cultural lexicons because of it. (Not that this is the main point… but they tell trans people that they shouldn’t be trans or insinuate that people should conform to the gender binary because they incarnated in a body type for a reason… but make an exception for themselves culturally? Super hypocritical.)

A couple of “woke” guys from the new age community walked around for awhile saying that the Hopi had adopted them into their “tribe” and that the were given Hopi names. I spoke to a few Hopi people about what was happening and they were shell-shocked. That is not something that they do for one thing, and for another, they had never even heard of these people! Thankfully, the behavior stopped after the two men were confronted about it, but this kind of thing happens all the time in various ways. There is a new age store here with a racial slur in the title… bring it up to the owner and she’ll kick you out and launch a smear campaign. Tell one of the white new age women that just because she studies “different traditions” doesn’t mean it’s okay to do rain dances or perform indigenous rituals (Native American, Australian, and others) without permission and they’ll blacklist you. I think many of the new agers operate within this Trojan horse of “I want to accept and validate all cultures”, but do not actually care at all about indigenous voices, feelings, or opinions. Many of them talked a lot about collective trauma in our nation during Black Lives Matter, but wouldn’t actively support it in any way themselves.

6. Let’s talk about mental health. This could go under the science and medicine label, but I think it deserves its own paragraph. Boy is mental health stigmatized in the new age Sedona community…. Real mental health professionals are painted as people who just want to “drug” you and keep you controlled. People with mental health struggles are instantly blamed. “Hell is just a state of mind, you need to change your mind,” is a phrase I have heard more often than not. Ancestral healing, umbilical healing, and random reiki sessions are somehow supposed to take the place of a licensed counselor.

A huge chunk of the “spiritual” community supported a pseudo-therapist who (without any scientific basis) was preaching that any woman who wasn’t sure if she wanted to have children or not by the age of 25 was toxic and needed to be ostracized because “something is wrong there.” A bunch of people believed it and re-posted/shared the teaching.

Another instance occurred where an unlicensed “hypnotherapist” without so much as a bachelor’s degree in anything was using questionable methods to hypnotize clients. During one session a person experienced a severe PTSD flashback and panic attack. She was not brought out of the hypnotherapy session properly or cared for. She ended up having a mental breakdown and having to spend time in the hospital. The charlatan who was treating her said that the client was willfully unresponsive to treatment and refused to confront her demons…

Anyone who is on anxiety medication, anti-depressants or anything else to support their well-being and mental health will be judged aggressively and most likely verbally confronted at some point if they are open about being on medication. The charlatans will throw essential oils into your space saying that they can cure anything. Others will try to get someone to talk to a new age leader in the “inner circle” and attempt to persuade the client that western therapists/psychologists just want to drug people and ignore the spiritual cause of unrest. They’ll cite earthing, crystals, vaginal wands, special teas, dietary habits, and color therapy as causes and answers to everything…. All while regarding victims of sui**** as unfortunate souls and lost causes etc.

7. A summary. I need to sum up other issues here quite quickly or I’ll be typing all day. XD Many of the women here are terrified of gaining weight or looking older. They hide behind the thinning veil of “health and veganism” to justify their worrisome habits to feel sexually appealing to supposedly “woke” men. Disordered eating and terror of eating one granule of processed sugar permeates the consciousness. You can be judged for anything from buying pokemon cards to eating legumes…. of all things. Most of the men are sexual predators who prey on younger women, rely on narcissism as a personality type, and don’t let anyone get a word in edgewise when their opinions are challenged. Many of the women validate these behaviors and blame themselves when they get hurt citing “spiritual growth” as a silver lining to cure all traumas. I would say that 95%+ of the people in the community present a perfect picture of themselves online while having crumbling relationships and failing inner lives. You might see a post or video about “conscious uncoupling” of a spiritual "power couple" and then find out later that someone was in a relationship with a narcissistic predator or was experiencing physical abuse. Sadly, many of the victims gaslight themselves in the uncoupling announcement. Many people here are predators in other ways… they might launch a health business that uses essential oils to replace therapy. There are con artists all over the place who can range from simply overpricing their wares in alarming ways to trying to entrap people in “business contracts” that devastate their lives. I have had personal UFO experiences here and do personally think that extraterrestrial life exists, but I would NEVER try to manufacture a fake experience… One of the UFO tour guides was having people hide out in the desert and flash lights into the sky while people on the tour wore special glasses. Then she was charging an arm and a leg to channel “spiritual messages” from the e.t.s for her clients and saying that if they didn’t receive the message, something bad would happen to them. This is the fluffiest and lightest post I could possibly do to communicate how bad it is in the “spiritual community” here. This is only the tip of the iceberg.

The good news? Sedona is so much more than a toxic new age community. It is GORGEOUS and it does have many good, healthy/normal people here. =) I have had such a beautiful experience in this place and can’t say enough good things about it. I have easy access to healthy foods, endless nature to explore and bask in, and a growing community of people who call the new age community out on its toxicity. I read what I want, play Animal Crossing without blue-blocker glasses, regularly enjoy going to listen to goth music at my preferred venue (I’ve been demonized for this lol), and eat what makes me feel good. My partner and I have had a beautiful and successful relationship for nearly a decade now and create amazing memories every day. We have good friends all around the world… and I have a solid, BIG group of academic colleagues/friends locally who DO ethically cite their sources and contribute positively to science and higher learning. If you’re into paleontology like me, you are in fossil heaven! =D If you love astronomy or astrophysics, we’re in a dark sky city! There are so many cool things to do from playing in LOTR-worthy waterfalls, to sampling delicious vegan creations, to playing DnD on red rocks with your friends while a *real* UFO passes by overhead. Get yourself a smoothie and organic wrap from one of our incredible food trucks and drive out into the desert while listening to Nightvale with your love or your friends. =)

If you ever want a list of must-do’s while visiting, let me know. I’ve got your back! The point is that I just harped on the negative above, but the good news is that you can completely avoid all of the junk. Keep it or scrap it when it comes to the Sedona new age community? I say scrap it. But you can still pursue your spiritual interests in healthy ways here while enjoying all the yummy creature comforts that the Verde Valley has to offer. I hope this helps and if just one person comes here and has a safe experience because of my thoughts, then every moment I’ve spent writing this was worth it. =) <3

#new age #toxic community #sedona #cults cw #trigger warning #red rocks #narcissismawareness #mental health #cult leader

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ohemgeeitscoley · 4 years

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The love lasts so long (1/1)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: Written for the Reylo/Folklore Drabble Collection. I am in love with all of the songs on Folklore and have been super inspired to write by the album. I’m super happy I got to be a part of this collaboration and I can’t wait to see what everyone else puts together.

@andyouweremine is hands down one of the best betas and friends in the world. Thanks for jumping in and adding all of the commas for me. You’re the best and I love you a lot.

Read below or on AO3

"You're home late," Rey mutters softly as she feels the bed shift under Ben's weight. She’s not quite awake; she couldn't open her eyes fully if she tried.

"I know," Ben pulls her into his arms, pressing a kiss against the slope of her neck. "I tried to leave, I really did. There's just so much to do, and that promotion… Rey if I can get that promotion it'll be so good for us—”

Rey shakes her head, slowly moving away from Ben so she can sit up, glance at the clock, and look down at him. There's tears burning in her eyes and her stomach is in knots.

She's angry.

She's so, so angry.

"It's almost 3 am, Ben. You haven't been home before midnight in months. It's like living with a ghost." Rey bites down on her lower lip. "I don't want to hear about your job or a promotion. It's just another reminder that you'll somehow need to be there more than you already are and I'll just be here alone waiting for you."

Ben looks hurt for a moment. But then Rey watches as he controls his face, and then his face is the calm and cool mask that he used to never put on around her.

"I'm doing this for us," Ben says. There's no emotion or passion in his voice. It's the same voice she hears in the mornings before he goes to work when he’s practicing his arguments in the bathroom. It's calm and precise and meant for a courtroom. "For our future. I know I have been gone more than usual, but I hardly think it's fair to compare me to a ghost. Once I get the promotion things are going to be different, I'll be home more. We can really start planning the wedding—"

Rey snorts, getting out of bed. "Stop, Ben, just stop," Rey begs, wiping her hands against her face to push away the tears that have started falling. "That's what you said before you got promoted to senior associate. This is what I've been hearing for the last eighteen months. And you know what? Nothing has changed. Nothing is better. And I can't keep doing this."

Ben's face cracks, and Rey can see for a moment just how scared he is by what she's saying. He scrambles to get out of the bed, reaching his hand out to touch her. Rey steps out of his reach, shaking her head as she wraps her arms around her stomach.

"What are you saying, Rey?" Ben asks, and his voice sounds defeated.

"I don't, I don't know," Rey admits, staring at the ground. "It's late. I'm going to go sleep in the guest room. You should go to bed. You have court in the morning."

Rey waits just a moment for Ben to stop her, to pull her back into bed and his arms like he used to do when they fought, but Ben remains still on the bed. So she walks out of the room, closes the door and goes to the other room without pause.

A part of her still believes that Ben will come get her, that she'll wake up with him beside her at least.

But she wakes up alone at 6:45 am and Ben is already gone.

***

Rey finds Ben sitting on his favorite bench in the park down the street from their home. It's early. The sun is just starting to paint the sky as it begins to rise.

They still haven't talked about the fight from the week before. If anything, Ben had been coming home even later and leaving even earlier since then. Rey wasn't even positive he came home at all some nights.

She'd slept in the guest room every night since anyway.

Rey sits down next to him, holding her hand out for him to take.

He doesn't.

"I've thought about what you said," Ben says after a few minutes, circling his thumbs while he talks. "And I think you're right, this isn't working anymore."

For a second Rey is filled with hope, believing that Ben finally sees how toxic his job is and that he's finally, finally going to quit, but then-

"I can move out, obviously. It'll be easier for me to find a new place, and the firm has places for witnesses that we fly in that I can stay at for a while."

Rey's heart plummets as she panics. He's breaking up with her. That's not what she wants. It's not what she meant when she said she couldn't do this anymore.

She's going to be sick.

"Ben, stop," Rey stands up, pacing in front of him as she tries to process what he's saying. "I don't, I don't want this. I love you. I didn't mean I couldn't do this." She moves her index finger back and forth between them. "I meant your job. Your job is ruining us."

"I can't leave my job, Rey," he sighs, running his hand through his hair. "I have nothing without my job."

"You have me."

"No, I don't." Ben shrugs, as if he's stating a common truth and not the biggest lie that he's ever said to her. "You're miserable at home. I'm never there and you're right, that's not something that's going to get better. I can't balance our relationship and my job, and it's hurting you. It has been hurting you. I already lost you, Rey. This is just me admitting it. And setting you free."

"I'm standing right here Ben," Rey points out, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You haven't lost me. I'm right here."

"For now, maybe," Ben keeps his head down and pulls away from Rey's touch. "But you're not sleeping in our room anymore Rey. You pulled away from us too. You have been for months. I think this is what you want, you're just too scared to admit it."

"No," Rey gets out between gritted teeth. "You do not get to do this. You do not get to sit there and attempt to blame this on me. I am not the one doing this. If you do this Ben, if you walk away from us, that is on you. It is not on me."

"You're the one—" Ben starts but Rey is hardly listening, shaking her head.

"No. No, I am not," Rey interrupts him. "Snoke is doing this. And you just are in denial if you can't see that, Ben. He has you so convinced that I'm a distraction or that you are, what, unworthy of my love?"

Rey waits, but Ben says nothing. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor and that just further fuels Rey's anger. The acid in her throat burns as he remains silent.

"Well, here's a secret," Rey sighs, reaching out to grab Ben's hand. "I've been in love with you since I was seven years old, Ben Solo. And if you think I'm just going to stop loving you because you are being an idiot and because you have let some asshole get into your head and convince you that you aren't worthy of that and that I am holding you back… you're just wrong."

Tears start to escape Rey's eyes when Ben looks up at her. His eyes are full of disbelief and it kills a part of her. The idea that somehow he could even begin to doubt how she feels about him, how much she needs him, after all of these years hurts her more than anything.

"There is nothing, nothing you can do, Ben, to change how I feel about you," Rey squeezes Ben's hand. "I love you today. I loved you yesterday. I'll love you tomorrow. I loved you when we were ten playing pirates in your tree house. I loved you when we were thirteen and you wore braids in your hair and you liked to first practice new braids on me. I loved you when you were haunted by the emptiness and ghosts in your home when we were sixteen. Ben, I have loved you my entire life and I'm not just going to stop."

"Rey," Ben chokes out and Rey realizes that he is crying too. "I can't give you the life you deserve and the only way I can is to keep this job that you hate—"

"Stop," Rey breathes, kneeling down until she is eye level with Ben. "I hate your job, Ben. I hate what it does to you. I hate that you have somehow convinced yourself that leaving me is the best option. That you have it on your head that a world without you is somehow better for me is something I can't understand. And you are good enough. My love isn't something that you can deserve, it's something that I chose to give and you don't have any say in that anymore, Ben. I don't care about your job, or the money, or whatever material things you buy me. I care about you. All I want is you."

Ben says nothing again. Rey's leg is cramping from the way she is squatting. The morning dew is shining on the grass underneath the bench Ben is sitting on.

"So leave me. Keep working for Snoke and being miserable and working too late and waiting for your big break when you finally get everything you want," Rey drops his hand. "But I won't be there, Ben. If that's what you want, if that's what will make you happy… a future without me. Then okay. I can live with that," Rey's voice breaks and she reaches up to wipe the tears off her cheeks. "I'll learn to live with that. But you don't have to. You can take my hand and our love can last. Ben, our love can last so long."

Rey swallows while Ben remains quiet. She waits for him to say something, to say anything. She waits, and she waits, and she waits. It feels like her heart is actually splitting in half the longer that she waits and the longer Ben remains silent.

Choking back a sob, Rey nods to herself since Ben hasn't looked up from the ground since he told her it was over.

Over. Over. Over. Over.

Rey takes a step back, her vision blurring as new tears flood to the service.

"Okay," she whispers, taking another step away from him. "I love you. I hope, I hope some part of you always knows that. And I'll wait for you. I can't—" Rey takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "I can't promise that I'll wait forever? But when you decide that enough is enough and you leave Snoke, because you will, Ben. You will leave one day. If maybe then you still think of me…"

Rey's sentence trails off while she looks up at the morning sky. "Right," she whispers, mostly to herself. And she turns. She turns away from Ben and begins to walk away and each step is harder than last.

She's halfway through the park when she hears someone run up behind her. Then she feels his hand grab into hers as he turns her around to face him.

"I'll quit," he says quietly and his voice is raw. His face is red and blotchy and he's still crying when he pulls her into his arms. Rey doesn't fight him, she buries her head into his chest and sobs. "On Monday, first thing. I'll quit."

Rey nods, wrapping her arms around his neck and tries to pull him closer to her.

"I have no idea how to fix this, babe," Ben whispers, pressing a faint kiss into her hair, his arms squeezing her tightly. "I don't know where to start, I'm so scared that I can't. That it's too late. That I've ruined us—"

"We'll figure it out together," Rey promises, kissing his shirt just above his heart.

"You really still believe our love can last?"

"So long," Rey answers. "Our love will last so long."

#reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #reylofolklore #my fic

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rueoconghaile · 3 years

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( HOZIER, 30, CISMALE ) I just bumped into [ RUADHÁN “RUE” O’CONGHAILE ] the other day while walking down [ SOUTH ] Kingsboro, where [ HE/HIM ] live. I hear they can be [ GOOD-NATURED ] and [ CLUMSY ], but when I think of them I immediately think about [ THE SUN SHINING THROUGH STAINED GLASS, THE SMELL OF IRISH WILDFLOWERS AFTER THE RAIN, ACCIDENTALLY WATCHING THE SUN COME UP BECAUSE YOU STILL HAVEN’T SLEPT ] ( ella again xx )

hi hello i’m sorry i haven’t shut up about this character in like two weeks but he’s so worth the wait i promise. however, that being said, please proceed with caution. i’ll list all of the trigger warnings as they come up but there’s a lot of heavy stuff in here so just be safe ily okay here we go. ps im sorry this got so long

born in middle-of-nowhere, ireland, rue didn’t have the best childhood. his mother, apparently a wealthy socialite from england, had no interest in being a mother. his father, her husband at the time, begged her to let him keep the baby, and they’d get a divorce so she’d never have to see either of them again. she agreed, and took off, leaving rue to be raised by his dad. his mother was more than generous in the divorce settlement, making sure his father had more than enough to care for the child and live a luxurious life. while he wishes he could have met her, rue has no hard feelings towards his mother.

{ tw: abuse } rue’s father was his best friend. they did everything together, and as a kid, that’s all he could have asked for. sure, it wasn’t perfect, but no dads are perfect, right? in truth, it was far from perfect. for most of his life, rue was in denial about the underlying emotional and mental abuse he suffered at the hands of his father. his father used him, manipulating him and crushing him until he fit this perfect little role his father had designed for him. it was rarely physical, and when it was, it was rue’s fault. he was clumsy and loud, always making noise or breaking things. in fact, most of it was rue’s fault, in his mind. his father’s mood swings, the borderline-obsessive controlling behaviour, the constant belittling comments, only to be outshone by the rare positive one. of course, none of this was actually his fault, but he was just a kid. he assumed that if his father didn’t love him, he had to be better.

{ tw: homophobia } and then rue was fifteen, falling in love with the world. he quickly learned that if he played his music well, people would be nice to him, and like him. and in one particular case, like like him. he sat next to rue in his english class and had the nicest smile. he was in love, or at least, as in love as he could be at fifteen. and it seemed, for a moment, that he wasn’t the only one. they kept their relationship a secret, their extremely religious town not known for being accepting. they talked about running away together one day, starting over in the big city. and one day came, when the local priest caught them kissing behind the library after mass one sunday. he, of course, went straight to rue’s father.

{ tw: abuse } despite their rocky relationship, not even rue could have predicted his father’s response. upon hearing the now-public news that his teenage son had been caught kissing another boy, his father drank. and drank. waiting for rue to come home, waiting to confront him. even though rue had begun to grow into his height, he had always been a lanky kid who avoided confrontation at all costs. meaning when his father took the first swing, he couldn’t fight back. looking back, he didn’t even know if he would have, had he the chance.

bruised and bloodied, rue packed a bag and grabbed his guitar, ready to take his love on the road. they’d always talked about running away, why not now? having nothing and being in love was better than staying here in his comfortable life, and he really didn’t want to go back in the closet. his love didn’t feel the same though, publicly denying they were anything beyond classmates. heartbroken, rue left without him, moving to dublin with only what he could carry.

dublin was good to him, though. he got a job in the kitchen of a dive bar who didn’t ask questions and sometimes let him play on stage if things were quiet. they had an unspoken agreement, they’d look the other way on his age if he showed up and kept his head down and didn’t cause any problems. he lived on the streets for a few years, a wild change from his comfortable upbringing. at first it was just for the money, he couldn’t afford a flat on his own and didn’t know anyone he could live with, but then he actually came to enjoy it. yeah, it was hard, especially in the winters, but the other kids his age on the street were good kids, if troublesome. they all took care of each other, a new family when their own had cast them out.

that’s where he met her. elizabeth. he was nineteen and had just been promoted to line cook at the bar, she was eighteen and her family had just moved to dublin from denmark. despite the fact that she liked to run on the wild side and hang out on the streets, her family was incredible. they took him right into their home, giving him a place to live, as long as he agreed to go back to school. they even got him a tutor to help with his learning disabilities. as he and their daughter fell more and more in love, they adopted him wholeheartedly into their family, and eventually, rue actually enrolled in college.

{ tw: abuse } they stayed in dublin for school but moved out of her parent’s house and into their own flat. that’s when things started to spiral in their relationship. elizabeth became overly jealous and controlling, checking his phone multiple times a day, insisting on walking him to and from classes and work. she never had any reason to worry, he was so in love with her it was if no one else in the world existed. to rue, who had been raised so deeply in emotional and mental abuse, this was normal. this was how people showed their love. he didn’t know any better. it was broken and fucked up and extremely toxic, but it was theirs, and he loved her.

{ tw: terminal illness } rue did whatever he could to excuse her behaviour, letting her cut him off from everyone in her life, including her own parents. he even turned a blind eye to the way she checked his phone constantly but always hid hers. that was, until his father got sick. he had been away from home for about five years at that point, and it wasn’t until his father reached out that he even knew he was sick. rue had found himself a comfortable little job caring for animals at a wildlife rehabilitation facility on the outskirts of the city, and while it didn’t pay much, it payed enough to move his father in with them. however, the man that came was not the same man who had raised him. he was a shell of a man, sickness eating away at him until he could barely move. his father had huntington’s, a rare degenerative brain disease that would essentially turn his father into a vegetable until he died an early death. they didn’t know how much longer he had, but it was likely only a few years.

{ tw: death } to cope with his toxic relationship and the ever declining state of his father’s health, rue threw himself into his music. it was the release he needed, the only thing keeping him going. and it was working. for four years he managed to juggle work, his father’s care, and his music, and it was all about to pay off. he got a record deal at a pretty decent label based out of london. he’d only have to go for a few months, but that meant leaving his father in the care of his girlfriend. so, at the expense of the only dream he’s had, he turned it down. he told himself his life was better here, even going so far as to propose to his girlfriend. his father held on for two more years before he died due to complications of his illness.

{ tw: terminal illness } even from beyond the grave, rue’s father found ways to ruin every part of him that tried to be happy. during a harmless, unrelated appointment with his doctor, he mentioned in conversation that his father had recently died due to complications from huntington’s. looking back, he is grateful that he did, as he learned that huntington’s is passed genetically. they started testing right away, but the results were not what they had hoped. while he currently showed no noticeable symptoms, rue was all but guaranteed to suffer the same fate. six months later, the tremors started.

{ tw: depression, abuse, cheating } suddenly faced with the idea of his own mortality, rue began to spiral into a deep depression, spending almost all of his time with the animals at work. they were the only things that kept him going, and his fiancée really didn’t like that. when her controlling, manipulative ways failed to force his attention back onto her, she began to seek it elsewhere, armed with his inheritance. his father had been smart with the large some of money he got in the divorce, and had tripled the amount by the time he died. she spent it partying, sleeping around, and spoiling her lovers. rue didn’t care, nothing mattered to him anymore. a year and a half after he got the news, she moved out of their apartment while he was at work. it took him three days to notice her gone.

losing his fiancée was the best thing to happen to him, and he was suddenly free. nobody tried to control him, nobody cared where he was or who he was with. he began to slowly come out of his shell, enjoying what it was like to be twenty-seven and single for the first time in 8 years. finally able to explore his sexuality safely, rue really came into his own. of course, it wasn’t perfect. he ended up in his ex’s bed a few too many times for his own comfort, but he just couldn’t help himself. she always knew exactly how to push his buttons until he was putty in her hands.

{ tw: abandonment of a child } he thought it was just innocent fun, what exes do. then one evening he came home to a car seat on his doorstep. inside was a baby girl, only a few weeks old, and a note with his name on it. he recognized the handwriting before he even opened it, mentally counting the months since he’d last seen her and not liking the answer. it was definitely possible. even still, he took the baby to the hospital. after many unsuccessful attempts to contact his ex, both by himself, the hospital, and even her own family, rue now had a baby. he had never even wanted kids.

even still, he loved her. more than he had ever loved anything. his ex had named the baby after herself, but he couldn’t bear to call her that. so, he adopted the nickname lizard, and it stuck. he wanted to give her a better life than he had, but in order to do that, he needed to start taking his health seriously. so, he packed everything up, and moved to new york city. he didn’t care much for the big city and wasn’t a fan of raising lizard without a backyard, but they had the best doctors to treat his disease and he had to try.

he’s been in kingsboro for about two-ish years now, and has been raising lizard on his own. he works two jobs to support her, days at a wildlife clinic and nights as a bartender, and even then still tries to find time to perform his music as much as he can at bars and clubs around town. he’s multi-talented, skilled in a number of instruments allowing him to easily slot into any empty role. he hasn’t slept since lizard came around and his love like is disappointing, but he is a really good father, and would give his life for his daughter. and, even if it’s three bites and a kiss goodnight, he is home for dinner every single night, without fail.

#hi plz love my boy #he's my fave #» ʀᴜᴇ; ( intro )#kingsboro.intro #tw: abuse #tw: depression #tw: death #tw: terminal illness #tw: child abandonment #tw: cheating #i think i got them all

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roc-thoughtblog · 3 years

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Sense and Sensibility Readthrough Part 19

Chapter 22, Pages 111-119

Hubris is defined as not taking your medication for the week and assuming you'd still have a productive time. It's only 5pm Wednesday so it's not too late to humble myself.

Previously, the Miss Steeles were introduced. The older is very much into beaux, and the younger is very often socially mortified by the former. Elinor is disapproves, but, they mysteriously know Eddie Ferrars, so perhaps she will have to put up with them until they give up the goods.

Not that her opinion matters too greatly when Sir Middleton never runs out of social plans. :'D

Also, thank you for telling me beaux is plural of beau!

Commenting from after having read the chapter: Oh, Elinor...

Readthrough below.

Chapter 22

MARIANNE, WHO never had much tolerance for anything like [...]

And this first sentence goes the whole first paragraph for a whopping 11 lines! It's not exclusively about Marianne's intolerances but there's still quite a lot of that. The second half is about how the Steele sisters prefer Elinor because Marianne is just that standoffish with them but I wonder if there's a literary purpose to cramming all that information into one sentence? It's certainly taxing to get my mind around, though I'm not really sure that's reflective of the Steeles when it's partially about Marianne. Perhaps all parties are exhausting?

In Lucy Steele, the younger sister, Elinor finds a companion of natural wit and intelligence, but lacking in any formal education; though I assume by "illiterate" Austen means that Lucy is simply not versed in literature, as opposed to outright illiterate.

She still doesn't like her.

Seems she also finds Lucy to be flippant and lacking any consistency of opinion, and maybe also attention-seeky. Also that they can't really talk about anything interesting to Elinor as she's not educated enough to share any tastes. That's... a shame that Elinor takes this stance. She reads Lucy's constant flattery of everything as insincerety but I don't have any reason not to think Lucy is just a genuinely positive person about everything. Personally, I would call nearabouts everyone I meet really nice, but that doesn't mean I don't think it's true! As you can see as I try to defy the interpretations of almost every character that has been described unflatteringly by the Dashwood sisters. :'D

Except Mr. Palmer, I have no good interpretations of Mr. Palmer.

Also, just because she's not formally educated doesn't mean she can't be fun to talk to! Engage people on their interests Elinor, not just your personal tastes! Well, I say all this but it's not as though I always live up to my ideal of open sociability.

Lucy asks Elinor if she knows Mrs. Ferrars, Eddie's mother. Elinor is reticent to reveal that she thinks his mother is uh, controlling, but does I think truthfully respond that she's never met the lady in person.

Elinor replies without explicit dialogue a lot, which in the Dashwood sisters I've started to take as signifying instances where not merely do they have nothing interesting to say for the reader to read, but also that they are not invested enough in their conversation partner enough to give a proper reply. Elinor does this a little bit here to Lucy, until, that is, Lucy really catches her interest. Now it's ALL DIALOGUE.

See, Lucy really genuinely wants to know about Mrs. Ferrars, surprising Elinor indeed, who's still hung up on the question of how the Steeles are connected to the Ferrars.

"But if I dared not tell you all, you would not be so much surprised. Mrs. Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present - but the time may come - how soon it will come must depend upon herself - when we may be very intimately connected."

Oh. Oooooohhhh no. Oooooooh boy. Hmm. Yes. Well. I remember Eddie has a more successful (younger?) brother, but I feel like this isn't a fake-out just to give Elinor a heart attack and then move on. Somebody familiar with Austen and queer readings correct me on this, but I also don't see the remote possibility that this is implying Miss Steele is hooking up with Eddie's mother. So.........

I'm sitting here having not turned to the next page yet. Good heavens! indeed, Elinor.

"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. Robert Ferrars - I never saw him in my life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."

T-there it is. And Eddie has the hair ring too, doesn't sound one-sided... could still be parental setup, but Lucy apparently doesn't know nearly enough about Mrs. Ferrars...

What Elinor felt at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of assertion attended it.

Oh no. As painful as it is strong? Poor Elinor, that's going to hurt when the shock wears off...

A moment of silence for Elinor before I continue, which I'm going to take a short walk on.

So Elinor's... outwardly taking it well. Lucy continues her explanation.

FOUR YEARS.

LUCY AND EDDIE HAVE BEEN ENGAGED FOUR YEARS.

EDWARD AND LUCY HAVE KEPT THEIR ENGAGEMENT A SECRET FOR FOUR YEARS.

"May I ask if your engagement is long standing?" "We have been engaged these four years."

FOUR YEARS.

ELINOR NEVER HAD A CHANCE.

"I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as his own sisters -"

SHE WAS JUST A FRIEND. SHE WAS JUST A F R I E N D.

S H E W A S L I K E A S I S T E R T O H I M.

Alright. Well I needed to process that a bit too.

See, it's one thing for me to expect that Eddie was already engaged to somebody else. I would've been ready for that. Maybe he just moved on after Elinor was gone or something. I would've been like "yep, yeah that was expected." But FOUR YEARS. HE WAS ALREADY ENGAGED FOUR YEARS AGO.

How does this recontextualise the earlier parts of the novel? It was a hundred pages ago I don't even remember! Was this all the Dashwoods' imaginations? Am I going to go back and find out the narrative very specifically refused to state anything except that the Dashwoods thought this to be the case? Was Edward leading Elinor along the whole time? Did he know?? He seemed to be feeling guilt or shame or something so he must know about Elinor's feelings right??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

ANyway.

So it's been a secret the whole time. Of Lucy's family only Anne Steele knows, and considering Edward I imagine literally nobody knows in general. Lucy and Edward have known each other for many years, ever since Edward stayed with her uncle Mr. Pratt, whom I don't recall coming up at all before but I wouldn't be surprised if he was name-dropped once in the beginning. Edward is so reticent about himself that Elinor barely knows/remembers anything about Mr. Pratt's existence.

I'm taking these quotes thoroughly out of order because I have been knocked out of order, but I want to highlight this;

Her astonishment at what she heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner, which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude:

The forced calm, trying to suppress the adrenaline early, trying to keep up the mask of the disaffected. It was obvious enough that Lucy noticed and stopped mid-sentence to wait for her. Oh Elinor. How fast is her heart beating? Where has her breath gone? And "tolerably well concealed" is not "concealed." She's speaking slowly and carefully, before she's even calmed down. How much shakiness is still audible in her words? How taut has each syllable been stretched, to maintain control? Where was the misplaced pause, a necessity to find the next word?

"May- may I ask if your engagement has been long standing?" "May I ask if your engagement has been long- long standing?" "May I ask if your engagement has been longstanding?"

Anyway.

Elinor's in either the denial stage or the bargaining stage. Well it's a lot to spring on her, we can't all have omniescent narrative security from beyond the fourth wall.

"Though you do not know him so well as me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him." “Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said;

PFFHAHA. Well, Elinor's composure is well and truly gone. If there's one positive thing that might come out of love triangles (positive negotiation sort, not toxic rivalry) it would be the sincere solidarity over the best qualities of the subject of their competitive affections. Though it doesn't seem like Elinor is disposed to be friends with Lucy, sadly...

I think Lucy just wants to be friends, but, uh, well. On the one hand I don't know how sensitive she's being right now really but on the other hand, I dunno how you can sensitively break it to someone that their crush has actually been your fiance for FOUR YEARS. Like, if Eddie knew, this is something he shoulda nipped in the bud long ago.

I think I've already spent an hour trying to process everything here.

The secrecy of the engagement makes sense too. I don't think Eddie's mother would ever have approved of any engagement without thorough vetting of the suitor's prospects. A secret youthful engagement must therefore remain very secret. No wonder Lucy's so concerned about Mrs. Ferrars now, too. And Eddie's only known the Dashwoods with the context of his sister hovering nearby, just ready to be generally Fanny. If information about Lucy had gotten out to Marianne that would already be a risk, but there was MARGARET too, and that sure worked out for Elinor. No wonder the Dashwoods heard nothing.

...

Elinor could tank this if she leaked the engagement. Please don't do that Elinor, it- oh no. Elinor won't do that. What if Marianne does it on Elinor's behalf? Oh no oh no. I hope that doesn't happen. Lucy's a nice girl. :(

Come to think of it, as far as underhanded deals go, there is a possibility that Lucy is actually faking this information, knowing that Elinor is interested in Edward, in order to drive her away. That... wouldn't be the case would it...? But he does have the hair ring... It's not like she pressed her into an engagement right...? AM I BARGAINING ON ELINOR'S BEHALF?

Lucy demonstrably proves she's talking about Edward Ferrars and nobody else by showing Elinor a picture of her beau. A thought, considering how much Edward has spoken to Lucy of the Dashwoods, no wonder she was so keen to meet them.

And Lucy is so happy to be able to confide in Elinor because she has noone else besides Anne, who is understandably a liablity in terms of secrecy, and gives poor advice in general. How fortunate to have somebody so level-headed as Elinor! Edward's name coming up at all from Sir Middleton did mortify her at the possibility of beans being spilled. Lucy is so stressed that the secrecy is such that she barely gets to see Edward at all, and never knows what will be of her future. Please Lucy, you know the context of Edward's being mentioned at all, spare a thought for Elinor. :(

Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very compassionate.

... Yeah.

"Sometimes," continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether it would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely. [...] What would you advise me to do in such a case, Miss Dashwood?"

Uh. Wrong person to ask. Elinor sure thinks so too. Ah but Lucy even explains why he's been despirited. So it's not as much any guilt or shame so much as stress about his future with Lucy. It does also explain him leaving in a hurry with no explanation, anything related to Lucy would have no explanation given.

And Lucy shows Elinor a letter sent to her by Edward; now all doubts are cleared. She also explains that the hair-set ring is hers, asking her if she had seen it;

"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was concealed an emotion and distress beyond anything she had ever felt before."

After sitting with them a few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was at liberty to think and be wretched.

Poor Elinor. "at liberty to think and be wretched" is also a very nice line to end a chapter on. I've definitely felt that before too.

Well.

This chapter. A lot happened here. What's Marianne going to find out next about Willoughby when the Palmers return?? We still don't know about Brandon's daughter!!

I understand now too why the chapter with the Palmers got sandwiched between the preceding chapters and the introduction of the Steeles, and why the transition seemed strangely long. The lack of information lulls a false sense of security, and also it's a small buffer in the pacing to not immediately just, roll reveals onto the reader.

I can think of Lucy as nothing but earnest at least, though, quite insensitive to Elinor's feelings in a way that should have been obvious. Umm. I don't know what to say or think about Edward right now. He's barely appeared really, I can't get a read on him. Floating the idea at the end that Lucy is not secure in her engagement, and also that it could be easily broken by the secret getting out, does... leave the whole consequences of this reveal up in the air really. It's thoroughly within Elinor's power to break them up, but...

Ah, my minds a bit overloaded now and I've gone way overtime so I'll leave the rest to consider next time after I've digested it a bit.

Poor Elinor.

#2400 words #dear lord I went long #and i'm exhausted #poor Elinor #Jane Austen #Sense and Sensibility #readthrough #novels

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dearholly · 4 years

Text

Dear Me,

I know why you’re here and I’m not mad. I’m not disappointed. Read this and then go rest. And please be gentle on yourself.

We met at Macy's and immediately hit it off. I think it was a dark sense of humor and a fluency in sarcasm that first bonded us. She was amused and seemingly rapt by everything I had to say. When I eventually left Macy's for a work-at-home job listening to sales calls, I brought her with me. And because he was unemployed, her ex-boyfriend/roommate came with us as well.

They had dated in high school but had long since broken up although hey were still living together in her parent's house after his parents moved to Hawaii without him. I got to know him more when we started at our new positions. As a telecommuting job, here were a lot of opportunities for us to bond over instant messenger. He had a raw, vulnerable quality that drew me to him and I enjoyed how open and free I could be with him. He didn't seem to mind the darker parts of my humor and we bonded over a love of cars and photography.

The first tear in the fabric of everything is, I think, when I admitted to to my husband that I thought I had feelings for Her. He sexualized this confession and internalized it as permission for himself to be attracted to her, which in short turn he started to act on. In some ways, I knew that would happen but but I was terrified of my feelings. I didn't know exactly what I wanted, just that I wanted something else. Something more than what I had. On some level, I believe that I wanted her. But I let my fear and submissiveness get the better of me and chose to put my needs aside for what my husband wanted, which at the time seemed more manageable for me than having to deal with my own inner turmoil.

Throughout their entire flirtation in the beginning, she never came to me to tell me what was going on, or to question it. To this day, I don't even know if she asked my husband whether or not I knew. It might be the years that have since passed shading my opinions in this matter, but I don't believe she ever did ask him. I eventually did come to her to tell her what was going on, but I don't believe that I ever really trusted her again after that, despite our friendship continuing for another five years.

Years later, when I would say all of this out loud to a therapist, I would realize what a hard time I have accepting and advocating for my own feelings. Looking back now, I can tell you I was deeply hurt and extremely angry.

Which is probably what lead me to sleep with Him, her ex-boyfriend slash roommate, on the same night she first slept with my husband. And I did not afford her the same foreknowledge that I had.

But it wasn't all vindication. He and I had been getting very close. We worked together on a wedding I shot in Malibu. I'll never forget when we had some free time in between getting shots and we drove down to the beachier part of the beach to look for some locations to shoot the couple later. It was raining and the beach was empty, so he told me to take the car onto the sand, assuring me that it'd be fine. He was something of an expert on cars, after all. The front tires almost immediately sunk into the sand and we got stuck. As panic mounted in both of us, a friendly gentleman in a Nissan Xterra came by and offered assistance. With some pushing and revving, the car was unstuck. After our Samaritan drove off, He turned to me to apologize and wrapped his arms around me. There's something about being hugged by a person who is much taller than you. In that moment, I fell in love with him. His easy free affection was all it took.

And she had no clue about any of it because I did not do the courtesy of cluing her in. This is what is so dangerous about people who are not even aware of the emotions they're having.

Also, I knew that she would cock block. So the night that she came to my house to fuck my husband, I set up a little date with her ex boyfriend. I took him to a local bar, and explained what was happening with Her and my husband. And then I told him, "But I am here with you." Couldn't keep our hands off each other after that.

I didn't tell her until after the fact and I am positive that there was never a moment after that that she fully trusted me either. We cursed ourselves from the very beginning. And then made things truly awkward by attempting to have a four-way.

They say ignorance is bliss, but denial is true euphoria. And that is where we lived for the next 6 years. We changed our state abbreviation from CA to WA, but we lived in the same place, ignoring red flag after red flag. The chemistry was just bad. But we plundered ahead, all four of us. And when three of us lost our telecommuting jobs, it was Him that found us work again.

I hated the idea from the very beginning (red flag) but said nothing. I resented that he got her a job at the same place he'd gotten me a job and that she'd be starting the day after me, leaving me no time at all to have this one thing for myself. I knew even then that working and living with her would turn out to be a problem. And it did; when something bad happened at work, there was no escape from it at home. When something bad happened at home, there was no escape from it at work. Even though we were on opposite ends of the house, there was just no escaping it. When she was upset, there was a toxic cloud that hung over the whole house. It seeped into everything and was unescapable. It left no room for anyone else to take up any emotional space.

After a while, I stopped getting a period. But because I was living on Denial St, I ignored it for over a year. My doctors wholly admitted that they have no idea how this could have happened at such an early point in my life, but all of them speculated stress, both physical and mental. Prior to losing my period, I had lost a great deal of weight in a small time by over-exercising and under-eating. I was starving myself and then working myself to the point of exhaustion, and if this were the cause of my early menopause, I would not be surprised to find that out.

However, there was no space in my home to have any feelings about this. Because I was of a mind to never have children anyway, it was easy for most people to minimize how deeply it was affecting me, and ignore the active signs that it was doing so. And I never talked about. The feelings were too confusing, too mixed up, to talk about. I didn't understand them myself and there was no room to figure them out there.

A couple months after I got my menopause diagnosis, I started having regular panic attacks. She is the one who suggested I speak to a therapist. She's the one who recommended my first one, actually. And I am still glad that she did. My life really started to turn around at that point. I started in May of that year and by the end of the summer, I had finalized my divorce and moved into my own apartment. And later that year, I started anti depressants.

It is my belief that all of the improvements and growth in my life are what lead she and I to have our initial falling out that next Spring. Through therapy, and medication, and meditation, and all the other ways in which I was working on improving myself, I did eventually grow strong. And so did my boundaries. I started saying "No." more and "Sorry" less. And I stopped accepting unnecessary bullshit that was launched in my direction.

Especially when it is in a shared space in which professionalism is mandatory. After a five month hiatus from the office in which she recovered from an exploding kidney, I invited her to help me train a batch of new hires. During which, at some point, I explained something to one of them which was news to her. She started raising her voice in frustration, demanding to know why she was never told anything, and in general being extremely negative. To be clear, this type of behavior was just something she did. And it always bothered me - something that should be of little to no consequence to her personally, blown up in decibels and f-bombs. Like her brother dating someone she didn't approve of. Or her roommate's cousin marrying someone she didn't approve of. Or her cousin dating someone she didn't approve of. Or her aunts doing or saying something she didn't approve of. I often thought about buying her a robe and gavel for how judgmental and salty she could be to the people she supposedly loved. But I digress....

I am a deeply private person. So in that moment in our office, I was completely mortified. Here are these strangers I am trying to set a good example for, and here she comes with her Debbie Downer bullshit. I shut the conversation down as fast as I could by leaving it immediately. But later I sent a text explaining why that was over the line and why I was upset. A day later, I received some half assed apology about how she felt she was being left behind at work, and that somehow justified the disrespect. Like it was acceptable behavior because she was in pain.

I didn't respond. For one, because I was knee deep (literally) in dog fur, trying to shave my Maltese mutt. And for another, I thought that what needed to be said had been said. Her response didn't change mine. And so the next day, I went to her apartment as I did every Monday to do my laundry. As I was putting the laundry into the washing machine, I heard her bedroom door open. Before I could even look up from my dirty jeans and towels, I hear "Oh... Hi." and I turn just in time to see a flash of red hair whipping behind a slamming door.

At that point, I start to have a panic attack, assuming the slammed door was for me and my face. But I breathe through it and decide its best left aone. She's still upset and I don't have the bandwidth to find out why. I'm done volunteering for whatever that is. At work, I try to be cordial. With Him, I try to maintain boundaries and I tell him nothing that happens between she and I.

A few days go by. One night, I go pick him up and we have dinner at a diner down the street from his place. He's visibly upset, and he's using that soft whispery tone that usually precedes a fucking nightmare. Over my country fried chicken, I ask him what's wrong. He asks why I am ignoring her. I tell him I am not. And that after having a door slammed at me, I'm giving whatever she is dealing with a wide berth. He convinces me to reach out to her to try and resolve the issue.

So I try to do that. But I'm annoyed and I say entirely the wrong thing, from the very start. I tell her "Stop telling people I'm ignoring you." Rather than "I am not ignoring you, Friend. Rather trying to give you space to deal with whatever it is you're dealing with because I don't understand it"... which eventually I do say, but it's too late. My tone is too incendiary. I'm too angry now. And I no longer feel as if this is anything worth saving anymore. She feels the same way. So she tells me we can no longer be friends. I'm hurt that she said that, but more disappointed that she said it first, and I accept that this is the way things will be. I block her on every social media platform we have in common.

Things are instantly strained between He and I. I ask him repeatedly not to get involved because I will be the one accused of it. But he can't help himself from being upset because she's upset. They have no boundaries at all between them. I tell him I need a break from him. He accuses me of "dropping him" the same way I "dropped Her" And so we break up.

For about 2 months. And then one night, I happen to get a late bus out of Seattle and sit across from him. He was coming from work. And I was coming from a bar. Were it not for the tequila, I probably would never have moved next to him. We made very little conversation all the way to our bus stop. I don't remember what I said. Probably just that I missed him and that I wish things had been different. We started talking again after that. And things were better, for a time. Between he and I, anyways.

What happened then between she and I is what sealed our friendship to the annals of history forever...

One night, while late in bed, I get an email notification from tumblr telling me I had a new follower. And its Her. Through several name/address changes, on the one platform I did not think to block her from, there she was following me. Looking down on that message as it glowed up at me from under the covers, witnessing the little smirk in her user avatar, I started to shake. The blog I thought I had made for myself, similar to this one, where I had the space to ruminate and collect thoughts, had been violated and invaded. Like every other aspect of my life, by her.

I did not react well to this discovery. At first, I made several passive aggressive posts directed at her and then deleted each one. And then I went directly to her, asking her to stop as I didn't think it was appropriate for her to be following me. Her response was to laugh at me, and mock something I had said in one of the passive aggressive and deleted posts I made. I'm not ashamed to admit that my reaction was explosive. I hurled every shitty thing I could think of to say inside one sentence and then deleted the entire messaging system we were using to communicate (which at the time was Slack). Later, when I apologized for my terrible reaction, she doubled down on the insults and called me a hypocrite for expecting that there be boundaries between myself and the person who said they never wanted to speak to me again. And so a final decision was made that this was not worth saving. So I blew it up over two lengthy emails.

I don't even remember what I said. And I don't want to. I suspect my brain is protecting me like a heat shield protects a satellite that is being hurled back to earth. I do remember what she said, which is that I proved her therapists right and that I had always been a bad person. I remember this because my therapist had lead me to the same conclusion about herself. Funny how even in our friendship death, we still have things in common.

A day or two after she followed me on tumblr, I updated the configuration of my blog that said no one could access via the app that wasn’t one of my followers, essentially ensuring that whoever was going to visit my site was going to do so in broad daylight. And then I installed a counter that tracked IP addresses of visitors who came to my blog. For months, she continued to check on it. It was like she couldn’t help it. She was clearly sick. So to test the lengths to which she would go to find it, I changed the name once again and sent Him a link to a post. Lo and behold one week later, there is the entry from his phone visiting. And then a few days later another, closely followed by Her IP again. Tumblr would be the first of many spaces that she colonized and evicted me from. It's not a coincidence that I struggled to find a voice after that or that I have not been able to write with anything approaching ease in the last few years.

I didn't see her or talk to her for months. She had stopped coming into the office. I stopped hearing sirens in my head when I saw her name, so I unblocked her on social media. After all, we still share friends and having gotten what I wanted all along (space), my anger had evaporated.

But according to my boss, she still used the fact that we no longer got along as an excuse to work from home. As if I had been the one shouting at her in the office, as if I had caused a hostile work place. It's no small coincidence, in my mind, that I was let go by our boss very shortly after she returned to the office regularly. I can't prove it, but I believe she contributed to it. And unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last time she actively set out to hurt me.

When I lost my job, I lost my insurance and therefore, access to my therapist. And I had to start rationing my anti-depressants. I fell into the deepest darkest depression of my life. And it did not help that this was all in the dead of winter, when the sun barely came out long enough for me to see it and run outside. Through the rest of December and January, I submitted dozens of applications and copies of my resume. Finally, at the end of January when I had had to start cutting each of my Lexapro's in half to get by, I got a call for an interview for a company in New York. They hired me almost immediately, and before I knew it I was being sent to New York to be trained. It was right around the same time that I found out the remaining members of the team I had hired at my previous job, Her and several others had been let go unexpectedly. I'd love to say that there was no part of me that received any amount of pleasure upon hearing that, but I'd be lying. I definitely gloated. It felt good to know that things were going wrong for them, for her, when things had just started to go right for me after they messed them up so poorly. In all of my self righteousness I opined to a mutual friend about how bleak Her household must be because I believed it probably was. It sucks to lose one's job and I would know all about that. That mutual friend, knowing that I had a relationship with Him at this time, mistook my opinion as though I had heard it was bleak in the household directly from Him. So the next time our mutual friend spoke with Her, our mutual friend voiced some concerns about the state of how things were going for the two of them. Her spoke to Him later, demanding to know why He is telling me in particular that things in their house are not fine. Which leads him to send a group chat message...

It's 7AM EST early February and I'm in the Best Western of Troy, New York reading my text messages. He has sent one to our entire friend group, demanding that if any of us are speaking about him to stop it immediately; leave him out of all conversation - She is upset that there has been any talk at all. I tell him that request is impossible as we're all friends who care about each other and I refuse to be isolated in any way from any of them. Meanwhile, sirens are going off in my head. I hear my mother's voice, warning me about domestic abusers who isolate their victims from their friends to perpetuate their abuse. I silence it. After all, I still live on the corner of Denial St and The-Dick- Is-Big Ave.

Eventually, a one-on-one conversation is started between He and I. He insinuates that it is the group chat itself that is the issue, because she is not allowed to be in it. I tell him I think it's valid that she is not in it as I am, and I want her to remain firmly out of my space. Which is a mutual feeling between the two of us, or so I thought. And anyway, I tell him, it's her that has me blocked on every social media platform we had in common.

It's at this point he calls me a liar. And it's at this point the story should have ended but I still have a severe lack of love for myself, no therapeutic support, am low on my anti depressants, and completely isolated in New York for the next two weeks.

He tells me he has her search for me on Facebook and Instagram and she finds nothing, which proves that it is I that have her blocked therefore I it is me doing the lying. Which, anyone who knows anything about social media will tell you, this is expected behavior if you have someone blocked. But he hardly ever engages with social media, let alone take the time to understand it, so this is lost on him.

I'm immediately triggered. I have to leave the office where I'm being trained for my new job and walk back to my hotel to catch my breath before I vomit up the coffee and cake that our sales manager brought as a welcome gift. The words "At this point, yeah I do think you're lying." keep swimming back up to me from a little grey bubble. I call him and scream into his voicemail. "...I do think you're lying to me," ... My hands practically vibrating, I take a screen recording of all of my blocked lists and send it to him. "...you're lying to me..." I black out for a moment, thoughts of my mothers fists raining down on me as I'm being called a liar in the backseat of her car. I sob into my hotel pillow. I feel broken.

But it’s the middle of the day, I’ve had this job for all of two days and I cannot be having a massive freak out this early on. I take one of my precious remaining Ativan and try to breathe. Eventually, I calm myself. In a sick twist, I end up apologizing to him for screaming and overreacting. I open myself up further and explain to him why being called a liar is a trigger for me. This was a pattern with us; The only way he ever had compassion for me when we argued (and sometimes when we weren't) was when I spelled out exactly what I was going through. I thought if I was honest about my feelings with him, he would treat me with more dignity. But as a matter of fact, it turned out when I was crying on his shoulder, he felt as if I was manipulating him. He told me that once when I called him, sad because someone I had a crush on had started dating someone else. I was never sure what I was supposedly manipulating him to do. Spend time with me? Show concern for me? But despite that, I take a huge risk, expose my jugular to him again and beg for him to understand where I am coming from.

He apologizes. He comes over and we have a quiet talk. For a very short time, things go back to whatever normal is to us. We're communicating a little more and I think we're being more honest. But things aren't the same. We're still very vulnerable. I never knew if he sensed that or not. I'd like to believe that if he did, his behavior would have been different. But his behavior remained rough, and careless.

A little over a month after I returned from New York, he had invited me to his house while she was away. The entire experience was unnerving. For one, the apartment felt cold and dark. It was not very inviting. For another, He was relegated to sleeping on a roll up mat on the floor while She had a bed and a closing door with a closet and a window. This really bothered me. I thought there would be more of a separation, or a at least a clear division of space. A boundary. I look desperately for boundaries, but there were none. Her makeup vanity was directly behind his work desk and above the space he used to sleep in. And there was no trace of me there at all. But of course there wouldn't be. She wouldn't allow it. And he never cared enough about me to change that in any sense. So I started to really see for the first time that our relationship was just sex for him. I couldn't see clearly that we even had a friendship anymore and this really bothered me.

I wanted to talk to him about it, and I asked him if we could. I'm not even sure what I wanted to say, but I just needed reassurance that he was still friends with me. That he still liked me. That he was, even though he was far away, still somewhat in my corner. I was feeling anxious, I was low on my medicine, with no therapist, working 12 hour days and still broke from being unemployed for months. I just wanted to talk and have him reassure me that at the very least, he was there for me and would be there for me. He agreed to that and we scheduled a time to talk, because at that point he was extremely busy with work and trying to balance everything, as was I. The afternoon we had worked out to talk comes and goes, and I don't hear from him. I message him and I express annoyance because we had plans, but he tells me that he had an outing with Her, and it went long. And then he expresses annoyance at me for being annoyed at him. He goes on the defensive. I completely unravel over a string of messages, which of course are poorly timed and one right after the other, which I know he hates. He engages his favorite tactic which is to leave the conversation entirely, tell me he's not speaking to me for a while, and then come back at his whim. He does this over a few days. He responds to each of my texts individually, escalating in each response until he's screaming at me in all caps and has worked himself back into the rage which makes him walk away.

I'm at the point where I'm looking at this pile of garbage relationship which has twice in the past two months shoved me into two of the worst, most ill-timed panic attacks I've ever had - and finally I hear my therapist's voice ring back to me as clear as a bell: He will never leave her, and he will never choose you. Everything that my denial had been holding at bay like a sweet little naïve raincloud crashed down all at once around me with the force of a tornado. It was the way there was never any compassion or kindness shown to me at the worst time of my life. It was the way he called me a liar and a manipulator when I was trying to include him in my deepest most personal feelings and experiences. It was the way he never noticed that I was blowing up my life with alcohol or that I was deeply depressed. It was the way he lied over and over again, telling me that he cared about me and then turning around to demonstrate why that wasn't actually true. It was the way I had to bend over backwards to accommodate his feelings, while there was never any room for mine.

And so, as anticlimactically as it began, our relationship finally ended. I don't even remember what the final blow was, or what I said in response. No doubt something shaky and angry and ugly. But I have never regretted it. For as ugly as I know it probably was, I do not regret it. My life, my health both mental and physical, has improved exponentially since that day in late April.

But if there is a hopeful epilogue to the story, it would pick up six months later when I had settled into my new place in the city, to be closer to work. I started to feel those pangs again. Those little flighty feathery feelings that can be so strong they echo across decades with such intensity that you can almost physically feel their presence inside your skin where they hibernate. It was the same feeling that made me sit down next to him on the bus all that time ago. I missed him. In spite of everything that happened, everything I learned, and went through, I did. But it wasn't until I started to feel as though I missed Her too that I knew I had to get back into therapy. A queer friend of mine who had been struggling through their own relationship issues, suggested a co-op place in Seattle they'd been using which was geared specifically to women and those who identify as such. Signing up with them was probably the best decision I'd end up making in my 30's. The therapist I was paired with was understanding, validating, and I never sensed once that she was bored with anything I had to say. She equipped me with the best tools to deal with my feelings, she taught that it's okay to love and protect myself through setting and maintaining healthy boundaries. And the best part about her is that she herself maintained extremely healthy boundaries. I never knew more about her than I needed to know. Yet I felt like I connected with her on a very deep level. And through talking to her, working with her, I was able to fully understand and appreciate what I had just been through, and how to exercise compassion for myself when I would find myself in situations where I would start reliving all of that trauma. Because of her, I found myself again. Or maybe I found myself for the first time. She helped me understand the feelings I'd been having for years but hadn't had the space or emotional support to explore. She helped me put a name to a feeling I’d had since childhood but never knew there was a word for. Not long after I started working with her, I came out as non-binary. Through our work, I found a deep well of love for myself that allows me to firmly (but with patience and love) define and protect my boundaries, and still have enough energy left over show interest, compassion and love for others in their journeys. And I stopped trying to avoid feeling like shit through drinking. Literally, everything became better a result of my therapist's influence on me.

But try as I might, there are some days in the year where my mind wanders back to the grey north where I tried to make a home. When I can almost hear the drizzle of rain in Occidental Park as I cried my eyes out there over something He said. In my mind's eye, I turn away, but the neighborhood is haunted with these types of traumas for me. Nowhere is safe, my mind panics, and I get turned around in the horrid memories; screaming at each other on 1st Avenue outside E Smith, sobbing so hard on 2nd that a stranger asked me if I was okay, countless arguments in the park that followed us to the bus stop and back to our home. Eventually, my mind grows desperate for answers, and it carries me back in time... all the way back to 2010 at Macy's when it began, and the loop starts again.

Which brings me to today. I've lost count of how many times we've been down this road. But I know grief is hard. And so is recovery. One of the ways in which I see to my recovery now is to write more. I don't usually publish what I write because it's just for me and I still have a lot of residual anxiety about posting anything personal online. Another reason is that my writing is so fluid that publishing it seems too final. Like... what if I change my mind about that way I've structured a sentence? What if I think of a better way to phrase that feeling? What if I change my mind entirely about the thing that I've written about? ...Why use a period if I could use a comma?

But I'm publishing this note anyway. For you, future Holly. Because you need this to be over. And because whenever we get into this rut, the only thing we seem to be able to do to stop ourselves from missing them and reminiscing about the good times is to walk ourselves through the trauma that they ended up causing. Which is effective in getting the sad feelings to stop, but you know is burning you alive on the inside. And so I'm writing this note to tell you (future me) that we don't have to do that anymore. You can set these thoughts and feelings down in language and writing, and be done. You can publish them, and move on. You can walk away. Put a period on the end of the sentence and close the book.

But if you ever feel as though you need to mutilate yourself mentally by trying to list it all out again, so that you can poke it and dissect it and review it in triplicate... I will be here. Waiting to remind you that nothing you have ever done disqualifies you from being afforded compassion and kindness. Waiting to remind you that you deserve better friends, better love, than those that would afford you only scraps. Waiting to remind you that your anger is valid, along with your hurt and your sadness. And also waiting to remind you that this is temporary. These feelings are temporary. Give yourself the space today to feel what you are feeling. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be angry. And tomorrow when you wake up, let it all go.

I love you. -H

#note to self #aubviously #muad-dweeb #fear is the mind killer #holly hearts

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fameplagued · 4 years

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❛ harry styles, 21, cismale, he/him ❜ was that EZRA WARD i just saw hurrying across the quad? you’d think they would know what happens when a JUNIOR is late to class. then again, the MUSIC MAJOR has been known to be pretty HEDONISTIC. maybe being so CHARISMATIC helps keep them out of trouble. i heard they aren’t an angel, though, and that they are BISEXUAL and love RISKY/PUBLIC SEX + MAKING AMATEUR PORN.

ayyye friends, i’m happy to be here! i’m g, here to introduce my ugly son, he’s a mix of a few different characters i’ve played before but never quite like this so i’m hype :~)

VISAGE: HARRY STYLES (MOSTLY CIRCA LATE 2014 & 2015 bc long hair)

VOICE-CLAIM (SPEAKING ACCENT & SINGING): HARRY STYLES

OTHER KINKS: CHOKING, ORGASM CONTROL/DENIAL, BEGGING, WORSHIP (REC)(GIV), PUNISHMENT + REWARD, ANAL, SPANKING, MARKING, BITING, HAIR PULLING, RIMMING (REC)(GIV), DADDY KINK, SIZE DIFFERENCE, VOYEURISM, CLOTHES ON, GROUP SEX, SEXUAL PAIN, ORDERS (REC)(GIV),

(ASK ABOUT OTHERS)

CANON TATTOOS (*MOSTLY)

born / raised just outside of manchester, england. comes from a wealthy yet extremely neglectful upbringing. his mother is english, his father is american, meaning since he was born in england, he’s of of dual citizenship. his family moved to his father’s home state of pennsylvania when he was 14, which is when he first starter his youtube channel

ok so a big thing is that ezra’s slow but currently steady rise to fame within the music industry has been alarmingly quick and that fact has shaped a lot of his personality; think justin bieber or shawn mendes with their gaining an initial fanbase and then a loyal following via starting out on youtube / other social media outlets as a young teenager, only with a much messier, Rockstar™ persona and you have ezra ward

there’s a pretty distinct difference between the version of himself that much of his dedicated fanbase perceptions are based on, and the Real Him. in the media he’s gradually becoming more of a household name for being a musician with a mostly positive message, an inclusive fanbase, a charming personality and being an all around humble, approachable, likable young guy

in his personal life, things are a bit,, different. he’s a hedonist, through and through, in that his pursuit of pleasure ranks far above everything else on his priority list. he’s also extremely sybaritic meaning crazy self indulgent when it comes to luxury, and in his late teens when he had the world at his fingertips, it was all about having the Best everything (mini bars, expensive cars, the good champagne, n private planes- ok i’ll shut up now no one needs my bad 1d references rn)

so basically he spent ages 17-19 as a touring musician after forming a backing band built of some his closest friends from high school, all the while earning his associates in arts in music through an online program; balancing social media as a full time job, getting to perform live in any kind of larger capacity, and still doing well in college posed quite a challenge, especially as he became more focused on the rockstar lifestyle and less on school

still, he never stopped wanting to learn as much as he possibly could about music, determined to become a master of his craft, so he earned his degree and kept hungry for knowledge. after a near-overdose the summer after he turned 19 however, his parents and their what felt to him like faux-concern at the time eventually talked him into putting touring and gaining celebrity status on the back burner for a while

in exchange for a proposed change in habits and lifestyle, they offered to pay for him to apply for and attend the prestigious university of his choice so he could get his bachelor’s degree in music theory, something he agreed to after heavy deliberation, and only after he had a personal realization about just how much the limelight was getting to him, the brighter it became did he decide it was for the best that he stepped back from it to focus on school

choosing college over touring / growing the band’s popularity cost him a few members of his backing band / friends who had no interest in ‘waiting around for him to finish getting some stupid degree’ and went on to pursue other projects, which meant he no longer had the same support system in that group of friends that he’d become so used to, and that lead him to seek out a new one almost as soon as he was enrolled at northridge as a freshman: he immediately pledged omega pi (bc we all know what a frat boy harry looked like at 19, hello, i’m not passing that up), finding that he fit right in with its reputation for being full of guys who were heavily focused on partying, and now that he’s a junior he’s in charge of marketing & recruitment :~)

his appetite for pleasure & luxury coupled with still considering himself a rich, successful musician and just being an incredibly sexually fueled person in general makes for a really delicious and dangerous mix ngl and so far in his 21 short years he’s lived a pretty Wildt life, even while at college

he hasn’t released anything music-wise for the couple of years he’s been at university, but he wants 22 (he turns that soon hi he’s an aquarius ass bitch) to be the year that changes, where he delves back into it and truly becomes the artist he was ~destined to be~ or whateva

frequently considers whether or not he made the right choice in essentially choosing college over being an artist / celebrity for the time being, and wonders if dropping out would be the better option (esp bc he thinks he only has so much Time anyway, more info below), but always talks himself out of it

is Firmly Set on the idea he’s going to be part of the 27 club (my boi is already almost 22 like :/ excuse u sir, snap out of that? someone give him a reason to live lmfao no i’m kidding i promise)

has an underlying hopelessly romantic side / has had a lot of either toxic or very intense relationships / has hurt & been hurt by a lot of people, so he has an extreme aversion to emotional attachment and falling in love / prefers casual sex / thinks he’ll never have a long term relationship again (yikes ik like hi get some therapy babe)

he’s reckless, impulsive, can be incredibly domineering, drinks too much, fucks too much (if that’s possible), and (drugs tw) does way too much coke for fun and too much adderall for studying, definitely every bit the ~tortured artist~ even though most of his issues are rooted in like, mommy/daddy issues and (homophobia tw) knowing his parents wouldn’t accept or support him any longer if they knew that he was bisexual

to sum it all up, he’s here for a good time, not a long time, and while he is here, he wants to learn all that he possibly can about music because to him it’s basically the meaning of life ok

that’s?? pretty much all i have for now, i will probably update this again at some point but i don’t want to make it too long because i definitely want to develop him within this group as i go along and besides it was just TIME for me to get something up

i’ll have a connections page up soon but some ideas off the top of my head are: best friends (platonic or otherwise), fwb, exes on good or bad terms, someone who also grew up in pennsylvania / maybe knows him from high school?, enemies w/ benefits, hookups via sorority/frat parties, professors he’s earned ~extra credit~ with or whateva, someone who was a fan before he came to northridge but now they lowkey hate him, someone who’s still a fan, fwb ft. one-sided crush, classmates, etc !

#noru.intro #this is so long RIP pls forgive me #ya'll know what to do !#{ ooc | ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴄᴀʀɴᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs }#tw drug use #tw homophobia mention

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sarahhlauren · 4 years

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Okay. Here we go. I’m really not sure where to start so I guess I’ll start from the beginning of all this madness. It was May 18, 2019. My mom’s birthday. I headed to work in the afternoon. I always closed on Sunday nights. My favorite bartender was working. We had spent the night making stupid jokes and making each other laugh until the last customer walked out the door. I closed at work like I usually did, not trying to stay too late because it was a school night. Monday morning comes, I wake up and for the first time, my body was not mine. It was not my own skin, it was not my own legs, my own hands. I couldn’t tell you what my face looked like because it was maybe 2 weeks until I could look at myself in the mirror. But, the world did not stop. There was work to be done, right? I had my first therapy session at 9 am, because prior, I had been dealing with severe depression, a final at 11, and my last final at 2. I had to focus on doing well and finishing out the semester, putting aside the fact that I felt like a ghost in my own body and mind. For the record, I got a 4.0 that semester, for the first time ever in college.

So it's late afternoon, I made it through my finals. I text my best friend, saying I need to come over and talk. As soon as I laid on her bed, I burst into tears as it took everything in me to say the words, “He raped me.” Even now, a year later, I hate that. It will never not make my stomach hurt. Within an hour, I was talking to three police officers, going over the incident in disgusting detail over, and over, and over again. Being asked questions a young woman should never have to be asked, especially by three young male officers. A few hours later, I was at the hospital. I went through the entire questioning process again from the nurse. A few moments later, I found myself standing there, naked. Being photographed, touched by a stranger, poked and prodded. I will never forget the posters of puppies with silly hats they have on the ceiling, as if that’s supposed to distract you from the flashes of the camera as you lay with your legs in the air. She forgot to mention that the hospital’s Plan B would have me in bed for 2 days. It felt like my insides were being scraped out with a rusty fork.

A few days later I eventually came home, and my mom was eager. She knew something was wrong but wanted to let me tell her on my own terms. The look in her face as tears streamed down her face fills me with so much anger I could punch something. That she had to hear those words and understand the gravity of the situation, and that I was pursuing legal action.

It was exactly one week after I saw him again. Not only did I see him, but I worked with him. Not just this one night, but for months. Because the investigation was active, I couldn’t say anything to my managers. This was the hardest part. For weeks, to act like everything was normal. To act like I wasn’t having multiple panic attacks throughout my shift. To act like I wasn’t getting alerts on my apple watch that my heart rate was pushing 120 bpm for hours. To act like I wasn’t in the presence of my rapist, as he was still approaching me. To act like I was listening to customers talk, when I was blacked out. If I didn’t act like things were normal, it could jeopardize the investigation. I am fully aware that some people may be questioning my actions. I don’t feel I have to defend myself to anyone. It was an impossible and unimaginable situation. I did the best that I could at the time, and I am so proud of myself for it. I chose to not take the easy way out. I chose to not quit my job. I chose to fight.

About early June, I was finally able to tell my GM what happened. I told them, “I do not feel comfortable working with him, ever again.” The very next shift, a few days later, my GM told me he was working that night and asked if I would “be okay.” What was I supposed to say? If I said no, I would get sent home, and in my mind at the time, that was letting him win. He took so much from me and I refused to let him take any more. So I worked with him that night, and for months. Being retraumatized over and over and over again. It wasn’t until months later that I could see how toxic that environment was for me. In the moment, I truly thought that I could just tough it out and I would be okay. I couldn’t see how much worse those months made my PTSD. Solidifying dozens of triggers, some still unknown to me until I face them.

About 5 months pass by, no news on the investigation. I had heard nothing from the investigator. These months were such a cycle of torture. My job wouldn’t do anything about him without a police report, and the police weren’t giving any updates. Nothing was moving. Meanwhile I am working with him a few days a week, retraumatizing my brain and body dozens of times over.

Trauma, anxiety and depression are really weird. Yes you have the common symptoms of lethargy, no motivation, sleep or appetite issues, but I feel like nobody talks about the blackouts and the memory loss. I have such little memory except for anything trauma related for those first few months. I can tell you every little detail about the following days, and weeks related to the incident. I can tell you what kind of car he has, his license plate, the exact parking spot that he parked his car in. I can tell you exactly what time he drove to work, which days he worked. I checked his schedule every week so I had time to mentally prepare myself to work with him on a given night. Do I remember my college visits? Not really. Do I remember anything I did that summer? No, unless I look back at photos. The memory loss is real, and it's weird.

Finally, my job transferred him to a different store. I felt a sense of freedom. Freedom to turn around at work without fear that he was looking at me. Freedom to walk to my car at night without a manager’s escort. Freedom to feel comfortable again, or at least try to.

Around mid-October, I met with the investigators again about the progress of the case. This time, it was two women investigators and I in a small room in the Sex Crimes Investigation Department in Orange County. It felt like they were on my side, or at least they were supposed to be. I didn’t anticipate being thoroughly questioned again. The same intrusive questions felt different coming from a woman, almost worse in a way. We got to the point where the investigators told me straight up, “it's your word against his, we have no proof of his guilt and without it, can’t move forward.” That was it. It was over. There was nothing I could do.

I did my best to move on, whatever the heck that means. There’s a lot I could say about my healing process, that is still very much going on and will be for a while. I’ll try to keep it limited. The most important thing I want to say about it, is that it is not linear. From May-August I thought I was fine, I was in denial. Then, someday it hit me and I understood the situation on a different level. One of the things I learned is how depression can impact memory. I have little memory of that summer, outside of events and emotions related to my assault. Each day brings something different. Similar to grief, some days are better than others. Triggers that once upset me, no longer upset me. Triggers I didn’t know existed last August, send me into a panic now. I still live in constant fear of seeing him, knowing that he is out there, living his life. Working through PTSD on top of preexisting mental health conditions was more than I ever could have imagined. It’s hard, it sucks and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. I don’t have much else to say about that right now.

One of the most interesting concepts I read about in a book about trauma is called “learned helplessness”. I remember learning about this maybe junior or senior year in psychology class, but it never stuck until it applied to me. “Learned helplessness, in psychology, a mental state in which an organism forced to bear aversive stimuli, or stimuli that are painful or otherwise unpleasant, becomes unable or unwilling to avoid subsequent encounters with those stimuli, even if they are “escapable,” presumably because it has learned that it cannot control the situation.” Essentially, it explains why traumatized individuals tend to stay in the environments or climates that harbor the trauma. For me, it helps to explain why I stayed at work instead of quitting.

At the risk of sounding cliche, I would not be where I am today without the support system that I have. I am grateful every single day for my family and loved ones who support me unconditionally and have been with me at any point in this process.

I want to recognize how lucky I am, because I truly am. I am lucky to have been in a position where I could go to the police for help (regardless of the outcome), because many victims do not have that luxury. I am lucky to have had access to medical care. I am lucky to have continuous access to mental health professionals. I am lucky to have friends and family who believe me, who never questioned me. I am lucky that it wasn’t worse than it was. I am lucky to be alive, because not everyone is as lucky as I am.

I have a lot of reasons as to why I wanted to share my story. I want to make very clear that pity and attention are neither of my reasons. One of the main ones, is that I want to contribute the conversation about sexual assault and sexual violence. A big part of what motivated me to pursue legal action was the thought of me not being his last victim. Almost immediately I felt a sense of responsibility. Responsibility to do something about this, because again, I am lucky enough to have access to resources to do so. I hope this can spark conversations about the necessity of affirmative and continuous consent, regardless of circumstances.

Another big reason is to highlight the series of injustices throughout this process that have nothing to do with my rapist. I will not name names, however many of you will know the people that I am talking about. In no way am I attempting to slander them, I aim to simply draw attention to where I felt they failed me. I just want everyone to do better. To try harder. To do the right thing, regardless of company policy or whatever hardship it might bring them.

The first one, I believe was on behalf of the police. I understand the need to secure the privacy of the investigation, but they told me to “go back to work and act like everything is normal.” This was, and is wrong. I felt like I had to, because the police told me, and I’m supposed to trust them, right? Wrong. I feel they could have come up with a better solution, providing me more support than that.

The second one, would be by SO many people within the company that I worked for. My GM, the senior HR manager, and the 2 regional managers who were aware of the situation. All of them had the ability to not only relocate him, but fire him at the snap of their fingers, but they didn’t. I have my thoughts on why they didn’t, and all of them put my wellbeing at the bottom of the pile. The senior HR manager called me every so often to check in, and see how I was doing. It was made very clear that he didn’t give a shit about me and this was just a routine part of his job when he told me over the phone, “Thank goodness I don’t have a daughter, only sons.” This HR manager ultimately ended up telling my rapist the police were involved, which is very much illegal for a few reasons, and is ultimately responsible for ruining the investigation.

The third one was the investigator within the Special Victims Unit assigned to my case. Take this one with a grain of salt. I don’t know if I just got a subpar investigator or this is how they all are, but Olivia Benson would put them to shame. Without going into too much detail, I never felt heard. I felt like they couldn’t wait to get this case out of the way and never put in any real effort.

I would absolutely be lying if I said that I didn’t have any anger. I am so angry. I am fucking angry that this happened. I am so angry at all the ‘adults’ that I went to for help, and didn’t receive it. I am angry that I’m not the first girl that he’s done this to. I’m angry that I can’t prove it. I’m angry that in a court of law it’s his word against mine. I’m angry that he admitted he heard me say no, but it was the one time I didn’t put my phone in my pocket and take a voice recording. I am angry that a year later, I am still suffering every single day. I still have nightmares. I still have panic attacks. I still think about it every damn day. I am angry that he gets to live his life as he wishes. I am angry that I am filled with petrifying fear that it will happen again. I am angry that I’ve spent months, now a year, in therapy talking about him. I am angry that I am angry!!

20% of women will experience rape in their lifetime, and 1 out of every 10 rape victims is male. This is real and it happens. It happened to me. But it didn't have to. And it doesn’t have to keep happening. We all hold the power to make it stop. Start the conversations. Don’t laugh at jokes about sexual assault, because it’s not funny. Correct your friends, family, coworkers, bosses, and neighbors when they make jokes that contribute to rape culture. Stop supporting that behavior. If you see something, DO SOMETHING. Be the one to stop it. Be the one to step in. Be the difference. Break the cycle, do better, be better.

Again, thank you to all of those who have stuck by my side at any point in my journey. I appreciate you all more than you know and I love you all so much more than my words can possibly express.

Thank you, and you know who you are, for showing me what it’s like to be respected, to be loved. That it's possible to be comfortable in my own skin. To let your light shine through to the darkness that existed within me. To show me how strong I am, what I am capable of, and what I am worth. I am forever grateful for you and your grace.

For those of you who aren’t as fortunate, I am here. I am here to listen, to confide in, to help, to advocate, to love, to protect you. I am here for you.

For those of you know someone who has experienced sexual assault or violence, believe them. Be there and listen to what they want and what they need. Love them and remind them of the good, because there is so much more good than bad in the world.

For those of you that have read this far, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story. I hope to have impacted you for the better.

-sb :)

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tothedarkdarkseas · 4 years

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Do you think murdoc is uncomfortable with his more feminine side? What things do you think he's holding back on doing? How would that change the band's perception of him?

TW for misogyny, and a cut for length!

I think there’s such a fascinating contradictory nature to Murdoc, in that he does have this feminine energy and yet much of his behavior is very much defined by a deep-set toxic masculinity. He’ll wear “women’s” cosmetics, knickers, heels– as in proper, red stiletto heels– but still make very crude and frankly objectifying comments, and he’ll use pretty insensitive language especially if there’s an opportunity to get a rise out of Stu. I think he is “comfortable” to a certain extent with what he likes, at the 30+ age at least; he’s not so in denial as he might’ve been before 18 and he’s not so secretive as he might’ve been at 24, and he assigns less “meaning” to it than Stu does pretty much up to recent years… but I also don’t think Murdoc would appreciate being seen “like a girl” to people he isn’t sleeping with, not in early phases at least. I used this example before, but it’s that sort of funny juxtaposition between Murdoc pretty much asking Stu to emasculate him and make degrading comments, but then turning around and belittling Stu for showing emotions he perceives as feminine. I don’t think he’s trying to be contradictory or that he’s really even aware that he is, it’s just a conflict between desire and learned behavior and both of those, at the stage he’s at now, are really innate, reactive impulses. Growing up as he did and where he did, I’d imagine that unlearning not only the discomfort but the judgment toward emotion would be a challenge. I don’t necessarily believe Murdoc consciously thinks anything like “I can’t cry because crying is for girls,” but yet when Stu cries, it’s almost kneejerk to mock him by insinuating that he’s “acting like a girl,” despite the fact that he’d offered 10 minutes ago to, er, be put in a “feminine” position by Stu.

As far as femininity outside the bedroom, I think Murdoc has a harder time expressing that until he factors it into something that benefits him, as he generally does, and essentially connects it to self-gratification anyway– for example, to be seen by Stu wearing “women’s” undergarments gives him a thrill, whereas very early on in his success, to sincerely show up at an event wearing a blouse and skirt would feel a bit like panto to him, he wouldn’t even have the respect for himself that he’d supposedly expect anyone else to have, he’d feel like a source of mockery to himself. I don’t necessarily think it stopped him very slightly wading into that, but early on I think there’s a reason you don’t tend to see Murdoc’s style as quite so fluid, and when the cameras or interviews shift toward his erotic life he suddenly becomes a lot more forward about these things. I reckon at first he has to sort of work everything into his sexual behavior in order to feel he gets something out of it, and at that point, it can exist outside of personal shame. He’d also make comments about “feminine” activities (like getting his arsehole waxed, still not over that) but I think he’d either deliver those things in a joking tone– Murdoc deflecting anything and everything with comedy is pretty much a core character trait– or he’d again loop it back into being something gratifying, something he intends to be judged on his own terms for. That’s the tricky tightrope with Murdoc, there are things he relishes when he’s “allowed them” that also unnerve him in a fight-or-flight-response way when he doesn’t feel like he’s let them happen. It’s the difference between Stu uncomfortably insinuating something and Murdoc taking it a step beyond and saying something far cruder than Stu would’ve, and a gossip rag running an article that insinuated all the same things. If Stu wanted to call him “less of a man” he would get the chance to ask for it again, slower this time, he’d get the option to eroticize that and have consent over it– but if The Sun says that it’s just out there, it’s just something talentless, unaccomplished strangers or some old fucking cunts in Stoke can read and have a laugh at.

Of course, more recent phases of Gorillaz have made Murdoc much more openly comfortable with feminine style, which I’m all for and encourage Jamie to continue drawing, so if we’re going to step away from being problematic about these old British geezers for once on this blog… you could certainly say he’s hit a point of more sincere self-realization, or simply not caring in a more modern age. I’m cool with that. His crying also contradicts… a lot of what I’ve characterized about his emotional stunting, but y’know, Gorillaz canon cares not for whatever I’ve got going on and that’s fine, haha.

As for how it would change the band’s perception of him– it would depend on the phase, but honestly not that much. Stu already has highly conflicting and highly volatile feelings about Murdoc from the start, and after PB he’d have much more defining and more damning impressions of Murdoc– if anything, to see Murdoc express his feminine side in his older age would alarm Stu a lot less than if he’d done it in their “youth” (relatively speaking, Murdoc wasn’t all that young) and if we choose to go nicer with it, it might be sort of quietly reassuring to him that Murdoc’s addressing some of his hang-ups, knowing Murdoc as he’s known him. (If we choose to go less nice, he’s simply beyond that immature stage of being scandalized by Murdoc’s relationship to gender or sexuality, Murdoc doesn’t shock and entice him anymore, he just damages and disappoints. But y’know, your choice! I’d say it’s a little of both, and gets nicer the more distance they get from PB.) As for the others, I think Noodle is young enough that as a child it wouldn’t mean anything to her, and as an adult she’s simply of a newer generation. Her relationship to Murdoc is already complicated and, in my mind, not especially flattering either; if anything, depending on how good their relationship is at the time she might have similar thoughts to Stu. Russel I also don’t see as being overly involved in his bandmates’ lives and would likely care the least. I realize that’s mainly just referring to open outer expression like wardrobe or activities, but it’s hard to conceptualize what is “feminine” in a way everyone in the band would agree on, as I don’t think Russel and Noodle would have the same toxic masculinity that Stu and Murdoc are working through.

#headcanon posts #tw misogyny//#tw toxic masculinity//#long post #Anonymous

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giganticactus · 5 years

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9.20.19

The last three years have felt like an absolute eternity.

On this day, three years ago, my recovery began. Three years ago, I was a shell of a person barely functioning enough to brush my teeth more days of the week than not. I hated myself to the point that I couldn't bare living life as the person I was. There was nothing about my personality or my mind that I did not despise. I had zero goals or hope or dreams for the future. I couldn't see my future beyond only a few days ahead. For a long time, I didn't want to find it.

My personality was a dark ball of depression and loneliness and emptiness. In constant need of an escape. In desperate need for help. I considered myself, no longer human, for a large chunk of 2016. There was no personality or humanity in my body. I was truly nothing but a combination of debilitating mental illnesses. I was living off of nothing else but guilt and codepency on a person I was in a very toxic relationship with at the time.

On this day three years ago, I broke off that relationship. It was the fourth day in a row which I didn't have suicidal thoughts. I felt that I truly had a 1% chance of surviving myself without her. I decided that I had to take that chance while it was in front of me. I had to let go of the one person who I knew was holding me down.

For another two months, I did nothing but sit at home, focused on avoiding triggers and finding ways to cope with the triggers. I played video games at all hours of the day, I forced myself to limit the food I ate while making sure I did still eat, trying to eat food that wasn't pure junk. Drank water as often as I thought about it. Focused on the parts of me that I hated most and tried my best not to hate them.

I realized, in the beginning of my recovery, that I had to build myself back up into a human being again. I had to recreate my personality and my relationships and social skills. I had to create motivation to get anywhere in my physical life. And it dawned on me. If I have to build myself back up, why would I go back to the person who put me onto this position in the first place?

The qualities that I wanted most in the person I wanted to be were: motivated, and didn't immediately run away from anything bigger than a mild inconveinece. I wanted to face challenges head on, I wanted to want to overcome obstacles. I've always been such a lazy person by nature that I wanted nothing to do with anything that wasn't completely easy to me. As I slowly built this person over the coming months, I got a temporary job working at Walmart over the holidays.

That seasonal job at Walmart that I spent 40 hours a week at for six weeks, was the best thing to happen to me in my recovery. It was just challenging enough that I was able to thrive from the challenges. I got my first hint of customer service skills, I worked as part of a team, I made friends. I learned a lot of responsibility and I rode my bike everyday to get there. But the number one thing that job did for me, was give me a sense of purpose. People relied on me. I had a job to do and I didn't have the option of walking away from it. I had a purpose. I hadn't had that feeling my entire life. And I must say, I was pretty good at it. I learned things pretty fast and honestly the only negative quality I had at that job was that I lacked a sense of urgency. But it wasn't hard to work around, and it definitely improved in the weeks I worked there. Two of my biggest fears were handling difficult customers and answering phones. Both of which I had to endure, and nine times out of ten they turned out well. I always had other people to fall back on as a safety net if I messed up. I was only eighteen, and the youngest worker in the store. Everybody looked out for me when I needed it and gave me a little push when I needed it as well. That job gave me a completely different outlook on the working industry and who Walmart is as a company. Both, in very positive light.

After that job ended, I was unemployed for five months. In that time I went back to my previous habits after my recovery began, but I was also a little more diligent about looking for another job. I had a small lick of motivation to find another purpose, but had trouble finding work that was close enough to ride my bike to, and would hire me with only six weeks of work experience.

I was hanging out with a friend of mine that April. He brought along a friend of his that we went to high school with. This friend was a shiftlead at my favorite place to eat. He asked me about what I was doing at the time, and when I told him I wasn't in school and didn't have a job, he told me that his work was desperate for hires. I was unsure about it, mostly because the store was a two and a half mile trip from my house, and the idea of riding my bike that far everyday sounded just a little bit like a real life horror movie. I told him I would think about it and he gave me his phone number for when I made my decision. A week later, he set up an interview with his manager for me and told me when to come in. I rode my back at two o'clock in the afternoon in early may to this interview where I was hired on the spot.

2017 was a year of recovery. I continued to build myself up and find habits that made me happy and healthy as I could be. I was truly the happiest I've ever been, in 2017. My depression quickly withered to a pebble because of this job and the friends I made. Riding my bike was great exercise, and I worked at a salad restaurant and was eating good healthy food. I was honestly of top of the fucking world.

In March of 2018, I met a boy. He was filling in from another store while we were short staffed. He was big and he was goofy and about as friendly as a stranger can get. Something about him drew me toward him. I knew from the day we met, that he was someone special. After a few days of chatting and working together, we and two other worker friends of mine hung out after work one day. He was the last one I brought home that night, and when he learned in to kiss me, I though "fuck it", and it was the best "what's the worst that could happen" decision I've made in my entire life.

We dated for one year and two weeks before breaking things off for complicated reasons. It wasn't a good breakup (if those exist), but it definitely wasn't a bad one. After we got out bearings and thoughts and feelings sorted, a week later we met up for the first time again to talk. Things weren't awkward, but it was sad. After that, we decided to remain friends for fear of losing eachother. There was a short period over the summer that we lost touch, while I was on my bender, but a month later we got to talking and hanging out again. We are in a very good place right now and see eachother often, once or twice a week. He is my best friend. And while the idea of getting back together has been kind of the elephant in the room for the last few weeks, for right now I'm enjoying the time I can spend with him.

My health and happiness fluctuate a lot. I currently just got out of a deep depression pit myself, due to denial of an environmental stressor I've chosen to ignore for nearly a year.

What truly matters, is doing my best. Finding what works and what doesn't. Keeping myself as far away as possible from where I was three years ago. The number one thing, is learning to love who I am. Changing the negative qualities that I can, and accepting the ones that I can't. Taking actions to keep myself as healthy and happy as possible while maintaining relationships and a shitty career.

I'm endlessly grateful for where I am today. I'm endlessly grateful for the journey I had to take to get here, and for the opportunities and decisions I will have in the future.

Right now, I'm finding reasons to be happy. Holding onto the people around me, finding balance between things I have and want and need, and finding goals and hope for the future. I am doing really good right now, recovering from my bender. I realized this time last year, that I will be in recovery for the rest of my life. And I know that its okay. Recovery means coming up from the down. The journey ahead looking better than the path left behind. I'm endlessly grateful.

Overall, I'm fairly happy. I have family whom I love and love me. I don't have many friends but the few close friends I have are extremely important to me. The situation at work is going better than it has been, and I'm currently looking for a second job. I've moved out of my dads house and hope to move out on my own pretty soon. Things look good right now. I have hope. I have things to look forward to, I have a better hold of saving money, and have a million things I want to save for. For instance, buying a new car and taking trips to Colorado to hold me over until I can eventually move there.

Recovery is a process I'm well familiar with. Rock bottom and I are old friends that I plan to never reunite with.

One last note I want to leave, is a message to the person I left on September 20th, 2016.

I see you. I see you as a human being. I see you as a human being with struggles. When I think about who you were three years ago, I see a human being.

I remember everything. The words said, the feelings felt, the anger and love and hatred shared. The memories and experiences, I remember it all.

I know now, especially after a similar friendship I had this past summer, what our relationship looked like. What it really was. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I saw a certain comment on social media that hit me like a train. And I had a whole new perspective to the situation.

I've always known what you did to me. How your words and your actions affected me. I know how codependent I became. How much I dreaded the idea of living life without you. How much I hated you some days and loved you on others. How desperate I was for your attention and the empty feeling I had whenever you would push me away. How grateful I was for the times you were there.

I've realized lately, of the impact I had on you. While I've never gotten your direct take on everything, I do now know some things. I know that I put you into a harmful situation. I trapped you in a spot that any action you took could become dangerous. At a young age, another person depended on you in a way that no person should. I realize now, the pressure I put on you. The damage I had to have caused at the time.

I don't know your true intentions of the time. I don't know what you thought or how you felt. I know that you hid a lot from me. I know now that it truly was for the better of both of us. I expected far more from you than I never should have asked. I see it now. I see the intensity of the impact it must have had.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I did. I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm sorry for putting you in that situation that I depended on you so instensely. I'm sorry for the pressure. I'm sorry for the despair and desperation. I never should have done that to you. I'm truly, insanely sorry. I don't blame you for a single thing. I forgive you for any hardships caused. I'm sorry for any hardships I had caused you and your family. You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry.

#tw: suidice #tw: mental health #me #you #9.20.19 #9.20.16 #2016

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viam-tuam-sequar · 5 years

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Journal # 9 - 22.7.19

I was going to use a prompt today...but then I realized I wanted to talk about something else, something that happened this weekend.

I have a very toxic family. Both my parents were heavily abused by their parents (my dad mainly physically, my mom emotionally and spiritually), and then in turn, because they never got help and therapy, they passed the abuse on to me and my sister.

It took years to fully realise how abused I was. I would jump and shake if a man - any man - got mad. I buried my emotions because I was a “drama queen” for crying a lot. If any kind of conflict, even on TV, started happening, I would mute the TV or leave the room from the stress.

My grandpa (mom’s dad), of all of them, was and is the worst still living. He’s an alcoholic who treats the family, especially the women, like garbage. When I became Catholic, he essentially called me a Satanist and acted as though I had converted to piss off him specifically and personally, among other things.

When I met Sir, even before we were officially dating, I laid it all bare about my family trauma. He also had family trauma, so he understood and supported me through some of the roughest emotional parts of my life. When he offered the chance to move to be with him, I looked at my options: staying in a state with none of the family I loved (my dad and sister made career moves elsewhere) and only having my mom’s parents to dread seeing...or start life anew with someone I trusted deeply. The choice was obvious.

Grandpa didn’t approve of this move either. He hadn’t met Sir, so he couldn’t give his blessing! ...Yup, in the 21st century.

Because of all of this, I felt I needed to make sure my grandparents knew what we expected from them vis a vis behaviour at my wedding. Sir told me I had to call them. It would be on speaker, so he would hear everything from both sides and be able to step in if needed.

To be honest, I was petrified. The whole week before, if I thought about it, I would get a headache and have a very hard time breathing. I was having near panic attacks multiple times a day over a fucking phone call. I wanted to just put it off forever, but I knew that was never gonna happen.

Finally, Sunday came. I was shaking as I hit the call button. I was imagining the worst - screaming and denial, and immediate cutting off with lots of crying. Somehow...none of that happened. I was calm. I was polite in expressing my feelings, and they seemed to handle my requests well. I got off the phone and sunk into my chair, tears of relief welling up in my eyes.

My happiness was short - lived. My grandma texted me, asking how could I think they would act that way, that she hopes they’re still invited...all the guilt trippy stuff.

And then my uncle called. He laid me on a guilt trip, saying, “You know that’s how they are...you know your grandma loves you, right?...”

I found myself going back to the old emotional patterns, agreeing that I was equally to blame for the bad relationship... I got off the phone, crying, feeling like a colossal failure.

I told Sir why I was crying-that I was a failure-and he immediately stopped me.

“Alys,” he said, “you are not a failure. What you did today took so much guts. I wished for a week that I could make that call for you. But you did everything perfectly. You said exactly what you needed to say, and their emotional response is not your fault. You were the exact opposite of a failure. You are one of the strongest women I know for surviving the abuse you endured and still being positive and not being completely bitter and jaded.”

Until that moment, I’d thought I was just scraping by with the skin of my teeth, mentally - merely a survivor. But through Sir’s eyes, I could see how I had not only gotten through some of the worst abuse ever and made it to the other side. No, I was - I am - thriving. I have a life I love, a Sir who cherishes me, family members who don’t play the toxic game, friends to commiserate and enjoy with...my life is good.

If you went to 18 year old Alys and told her exactly how good her life was going to be, she wouldn’t have believed you. She never would have dreamed of the love, the life, the freedom she has now. And so much of this is due to my amazing Sir, who sees my struggle, who supports me, even and especially through the difficult times.

All love and respect to my Sir,

-A

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the-lupine-sojourner · 6 years

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Takara Yamada’s Hero Academia Season 1 Episode 2 [Eijiro Kirishima/OC] [Female!Aizawa/Hizashi]

As usual, here is a link to Takara’s bio.

This is the prologue, and Here is the first episode’s insertion.

I was proof-reading earlier, got distracted, and ended up not posting til now. Anyway, hope you enjoy, guys! I really do appreciate even just a like, but feedback is amazing, too!

Also, I’m really trying to keep everyone in-character, even Shota. I know I made her a woman, but I’m trying not to let myself write her as too emotional and stuff. Hope y’all like it!

Taglist: @dailyojiromashirao (I included an incredibly tiny interaction between Bakugo and Takara for you, hun! XD It’s so small, you might have to squint, though.)

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

“Without a Quirk?” Toshin-Oji asks. I knew, from a day not long after I first met All Might, that he had inherited the Quirk that made him the #1 Hero in the world. He had once been in Midoryia’s shoes. He still hadn’t told me what specific Quirk he has, but it was enough that he trusted me with that part of the secret.

He then grunts as if in pain, reminding me of our situation, trembling as smoke began to rise from him. I begin to panic, but Izuku doesn’t notice Toshin-Oji’s condition, his eyes still squeezed shut as he awaited All Might’s answer.

“Not now, damnit! Not here!” Toshin-Oji hisses under his breath as I move to try to block the view. Izuku’s eyes are on the floor despondently.

“People think I don’t have a chance.” he murmurs. “That not having any powers makes me some kinda weakling.” He continues meekly, absently playing with his hands. “My classmates like to make fun of me.” My eyes go wide. He was really baring his soul here, huh? Toshin-Oji was, unfortunately, in hardly any position to truly listen to Izuku. In both an effort to make this poor kid feel at least a little better, and hide Toshin-Oji further, I hug him. He lets me, even letting his arms carefully wrap around me. It felt a little awkward, but at least the secret should be safe now. “But, you know what? That makes me want to prove them wrong. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve thought that saving people is the coolest thing you could do. I want people to see my fearless smile and feel safe.” His eyes light up with a sparkle and I move to end the hug. His eyes close again. “I want to be the kind of hero everyone in the world looks up to. Just like you!” With that, before I can do anything, Izuku looks up and sees the smoke clear to reveal Toshin-Oji’s real form. It sends Izuku into another freak-out, with him promptly screaming. I huff.

“Look, he’s still the same guy.” I point out, crossing my arms. “Calm down.”

“I- -wait- -who- -what happened? You deflated!” He shrieks, unable to process what happened.

“Izuku, please listen. There’s no reason to keep freaking out.” I soothe, to no avail. Izuku then goes into denial, looking around as if to find the All Might he knows.

“You...you’re not him!” He protests. I sigh, letting him get it out of his system before trying to explain what happened. “You’re a fake! An imposter!”

“Look, you know that’s not true. There’s no one else up here.” I begin, but Toshin-Oji puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I assure you, I am the real All- -” He’s cut off as he coughs and blood comes up. Izuku yet again shrieks.

“You really have to stop that!” I snap, hands on my ears. “Geez!”

“Impossible!” Izuku cries, going pale.

“You know how guys at the pool are always sucking in and flexing and trying to look buff?” Toshin-Oju explains, seeming to startle Izuku into silence. “I’m like that.” He’d explained it to me in a similar way soon after we started hanging out on a more regular basis.

“This can’t be real!” Izuku moans. I nod.

“It can and it is.” I reply. “Look on the bright side; you know All Might better than anyone you know now.” I try to boost his mood. It doesn’t seem to work.

“I’m dreaming.” Izuku mumbles. “All Might is a giant who saves everyone. He defeats all obstacles and wins the day with a fearless smile.”

“And that person is still standing in front of you.” I point out. This was getting real old, real quick. Toshin-Oji sighs.

“There’s plenty of fear behind that smile.” He explains, then sits down. Izuku only seems to respond to Toshin-Oji, I note, and I decide to sit with him, trying not to take it personally. “I’m counting on you to keep your mouth shut like Takara here.” He instructs firmly. “Don’t go talking about this online or telling your friends.” He’d said almost that exact thing when explaining this to me, too.

“This is serious, Izuku.” I add gravely. It was vital people didn’t know that All Might had a weakness, so that villains don’t get cocky and launch an uprising or something. Toshin-Oji then lifts his shirt, revealing his ugly, expansive scar to Izuku, who flinches, gasping in shock and maybe sympathy.

“Pretty gross, right?” Toshin-Oji murmurs, as if in contempt at his wound. “I got this in a big fight five years back. My respiratory system was basically destroyed. I very nearly lost my stomach.” It was the first time he’s talked to or in front of me about just how bad the wound really was. I cringe, imagining the agony and suffering this poor man had to go through, possibly to this day, from this ‘big fight’. “All the surgeries have pretty much worn me out, and it can’t be fixed.” He lets the shirt fall back down. “Right now, I can only do hero work for about three hours a day.” That much, I’d known. In fact, it was what made him a regular drop-off point for my parents, who still thought I needed someone to watch over me. I didn’t mind, though, as I got to hang out with Toshin-Oji. “Rest of the time,” He continues, “this is what I look like.” Izuku has yet to say a word, standing there in shock that All Might was trusting him so much.

I gotta be honest; I was wondering that myself, too. I suppose most of it is due to the fact that they were both once Quirkless.

“No way…” Izuku finally murmurs. “Five years ago? So, does that mean it was the fight with Toxic Chainsaw?” He asks. I raise a brow. I knew Toshin-Oji had been in a lot of fights, but I could never tell you who he fought and when he fought them. Izuku is on another level of fanboy. It takes true dedication to result in Izuku’s level of knowledge. Toshin-Oji nods, impressed.

“Wow. You know your stuff.” He muses. “But no. The punk may’ve landed some hits, but he couldn’t bring me down.” He explains. “Most of the world has never heard of this fight.” But I had, to some extent. Kāsan had told me it was a villain dead-set on Toshin-Oji’s destruction. Not just his body, though. This guy was so full of hatred for my adopted uncle that he wanted to eradicate the very essence of what All Might stood for, what he meant. This incarnation of evil wanted to take All Might’s legacy before he’d let All Might die. It was bone-chilling to think or hear about. And I doubt Toshin-Oji even knows how much I know. “I did everything I could to keep it under wraps.” For good reason. Again, it’d point out to the world that it’s #1 Hero could be beaten. It would mean that All Might himself has a weakness, causing villains everywhere to flock together and attempt to do what this guy did, except this time make sure All Might went down for good. Toshin-Oji’s sigh brings me rushing back to reality. “I’m supposed to be the guy who’s always smiling, right?” He asks rhetorically. “I’m the symbol of peace. People everywhere have to think I’m never afraid.” I think that’s putting too much pressure on himself, but I don’t comment. I’d tried telling him that, but he refused to listen. “But, honestly, I smile to hide the fear inside. It’s just a brave face I put on when the pressure is high. This job isn’t easy.” I swallow. I’d been told this same thing many, many times.

“Which, again, is why it’s so important you not tell anyone about this.” I add, staring Izuku in the eye. “I know this is a lot to take in and ask of you, but the public can’t know about this.” I press. Toshin-Oji nods.

“Exactly. Pro heroes are always having to risk their lives, but some villains just can’t be beaten without powers.” I suddenly realize what Toshin-Oji’s been trying to say, why he showed Izuku his scar; he didn’t want Izuku to become a hero. He didn’t want a life of pain, blood, and hardship for such a sweet, innocent kid. “So, no; I don’t think you can become a hero without a Quirk.” Izuku’s face melts, deflating into a crushed, defeated shell of the former light I’d seen when he talked about wanting to be a hero. It pained me to see him like this.

“I see.” He murmurs weakly.

“Izuku, I’m sorry. Wanting to help people is such an amazing aspiration. You’ll figure out a way.” I mumble, unsure how else to reply. Toshin-Oji sighs as we stand.

“Exactly. If you want to help people, there are plenty of other ways to do it. You can become a police officer. They get crap cus the heroes catch most of the villains, but it’s a fine profession.” But not the one he dreams of. I sigh internally. My heart drops further and further with each step I take and I find myself spinning and hugging Izuku again.

“You’re an amazing person, Izuku, and I am so sorry.” I whimper, feeling horrible for Izuku. Izuku, however, just nods glumly.

“It’s not bad to have a dream, young man.” Toshin-Oji says, standing by the door, but not looking back. “Just...make sure your dreams are attainable, realistic. Understand?” That was a little harsh, I thought, squeezing Izuku a little harder. He still hasn’t said anything, but I can feel him trembling.

“Go ahead. I know the way from here.” I murmur to my uncle. “I’ll tell Kāsan I’ll be back a little later. I have money for a cab after I get Izuku home.” Toshin-Oji sighs.

“Alright, but don’t blame me if she’s upset.” I nod and he closes the door. There are a few moments of awkward silence, then an explosion at least five blocks away shocks us into moving.

“What the heck?” I murmur, watching thick black smoke rise against the blue sky.

“A villain!” Izuku cries, running toward the door. “I wonder which hero will show!” It seems automatic for him, but he halts like there’s a wall, twitching a little.

“You okay?” I ask, worried. He’d just had his dream shot down by his favorite hero. It can’t have left him unrattled. He slumps.

“I…” He sighs heavily and drags his feet, but we go through the door. “yeah.” I have to restrain myself and walk at Izuku’s pace. I’d said I’d get him home. I had to follow through on that, no matter how worried I was that Toshin-Oji would see and try to fight the guy, whoever he was. We walk down the stairs in silence. After all, we’d just met. We didn’t know how to talk to each other, or really anything about one another. But, one of my life mottos is the Golden Rule, so I continue walking with him, resorting to hoping my uncle doesn’t push himself too far.

Once we’re on the street, Izuku brings out his notebook, reviewing his previous entries. I decide against asking how it got so worn and...burnt?

Yeah, something tells me I shouldn’t open that can of worms.

Eventually, I notice tears in Izuku’s eyes. I find tears in my eyes, as well. I wrap an arm around his shoulder and blink them back. Poor kid didn’t need me adding to his problems. “Those are awesome drawings.” I mumble, grasping at anything that might cheer him up. It doesn’t work. Izuku closes the notebook and clutches it to his chest, sniffling as I let my arm fall back to my side.

“Even All Might said it.” He whimpers. “A hero needs a Quirk. I knew this, deep down, all along. I’ve just been avoiding reality, so desperate to prove myself wrong.” It honestly breaks my heart to hear the hopeless despair in his voice. I find I can relate to his drive and ambition; simply wanting to help people as a hero, become someone people could look to and depend on in troubled times. Someone people could rally behind.

Suddenly, I find myself stopping Izuku and looking him in the eye.

“Forget what All Might said. If you still think there’s a chance, you have to fight for it!” I bark, something driving me to speak my mind like I should have done back on the rooftop instead of being a coward and allowing this innocent kid to have have his world shattered, likely not for the first time. “If it helps at all, I still think you can be a hero! With the right gear and costume, you’d essentially even the playing field and become the first Quirkless hero!”

“Thanks, but- -” A nearby explosion interrupts him, and we both realize where our feet led us. “Is the fight from earlier still going on?” Izuku asks listlessly. I shrug.

“I don’t know. Wanna go see?” I reply.

“What’s the point?” He murmurs softly, shrugging.

“There are still empty pages in your notebook.” I snap. I was through being nice. He needed to snap out of this funk. “Your dream isn’t altogether gone, you know. Go over there with me, fill those pages with your genius analysis and learn more about being a hero. If you are still willing, you can keep working hard to attain your goal.” He nods mutely as we walk over. We gasp when we see what’s happening. “That’s the guy who attacked me!” Izuku squeaks, no longer depressed, shock overriding it. “Didn’t All Might capture him?” I frown.

“Yeah…” I then remember that Toshin-Oji’s pant pockets were empty when he stood up to leave. “Shit! The bottles must’ve dropped somehow!”

“He dropped it.” Izuku murmurs. “That means...it’s my fault. I grabbed his leg.” I pale. It made sense. Those pockets weren’t exactly secure, especially with the mid-air struggle before All Might let Izuku make it safely back to the ground before leaping off again.

“Why aren’t the heroes doing anything?” Someone in the gathered crowd asks. I take another look and pale. That guy was right! I see Kamui Woods, I think Powerloader, Death Arms, and Backdraft, all just...standing there. I then, upon remembering their Quirks and this guy’s pliable, slimy body, I realize that it makes sense. They can’t do anything.

“It looks like they’ve met their match. Plus, I hear the villain’s captured a kid.” The man next to the first one to speak replies. I pale in horror. What?! Izuku has a similar reaction, both of us snapping to look closer at the villain. “Things aren’t looking good for him.” The man continues. I gulp. That guy said it! That’s a disgusting way to be restrained.

And, if he was suffocating like Izuku was, then he probably didn’t have much time. I lick my lips. My Quirk wouldn’t do much. Best I could do would be throw ground at or splash the villain. But, it would probably just be either absorbed and enhance the villain, or just sit there, or (worst-case-scenario) it hits the kid.

Not to mention I don’t even have a provisional license. I’m as useless as those heroes right now! Someone else points out that this guy was the one All Might was chasing, and I pale. Another civilian asks where All Might is, and why he isn’t helping the heroes. I do a quick scan and, sure enough, there’s Toshin-Oji, head hung low and clutching his injury at the edge of the crowd. Crud! Izuku goes into another state of total shut-down, and I’m torn between staying with him and going to Toshin-Oji. Maybe I could ask my uncle how to use my Quirk to at least try and get that poor victim away. Maybe water? But I’m sure Backdraft tried, right?

What do I do?!

Izuku, for better or worse, makes my mind up for me by disregarding everything and running forward, into the fire and toward the villain. Instantly, my legs follow, reaching out for the water in the nearby fire hydrant. It bursts toward me and I clear a path through the fire and debris to help Izuku get close.

“Stop, you idiots! You’re going to get yourselves killed!” Death Arms roars after us, but we can’t stop. It’s like we’re not in control of our own bodies anymore.

“You two again?” The villain roars. I glare at him, having to refrain from spraying him right in the face, due to the fact that I wasn’t supposed to even be using my Quirk in this situation, I don’t think. Especially not directly against the villain. I grit my teeth, choosing to swirl the water around to clear away more fire as Izuku hurls his backpack at the guy’s face. The villain roars and rears up in shock and pain from the weight of the backpack hitting him, thankfully allowing the kid inside some air.

“Kacchan!” Izuku screams, running closer and clawing to try and get the victim out. The other boy, with spiky blonde hair, seems to recognize Izuku, too, and looks pissed about seeing him here.

“What the hell?!” he growls angrily. “What’re you doing here?!”

“We’re saving your life!” I snap, trying to resist the urge to wash this slimy villain away and be done with it. I create a protective shield over and around us, so Izuku can keep clawing without having to worry. Surely, laws allowed for self-defense, right? I mean, sure we decided to run forward, but now it was life and death, right? But no; I couldn’t do more than what I was doing or I’d be in serious trouble and (most likely) so would my parents.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” Izuku practically sobs. “My...my legs just started moving!” Tears are streaming down his face as he continues his desperate attempts at a rescue. The villain pounds on my barrier, but it holds, at the cost of draining my energy like a leaky cup; slow, but noticeable. “Kacchan, I couldn’t just stand there and let you die.” Izuku adds.

“Hate to interrupt, but this isn’t working!” I point out. “And I can’t use my Quirk to directly attack! It’s illegal!” Just then, as I hear the Pros rushing forward, the villain somehow causes an explosion! I barely manage to close the sphere of water around us, but it breaks almost instantly, sending Izuku and I backwards a few feet.

I groan, wobbling to my feet. Something breaking or straining my constructions meant it took a lot of energy out of me. I couldn’t keep it up if he’d keep breaking what I made. When we face the battle and take it in again, I see something I’ve both never been happier to see and wish I hadn’t; All Might, holding the guy back one-handed, grinning like nothing’s wrong.

“Shit.” I curse under my breath. He was pushing himself too hard!

“All Might…” Izuku mumbles, shocked as I was. “But- -”

“I really am pathetic.” Toshin-Oji growls at himself. “Here you are, Takara, doing more than even the pro heroes could, and without attacking the villain directly, too, where I was hesitating. Sorry. And to you, young man; I told you the traits of a great champion, but I see now I wasn’t living up to my own ideals!” He continues, angry with himself.

“Less talk! We gotta wrap this up!” I bark back, trying to get us back to the fight at hand. The water swirls back around Izuku and I as I try to move us away. I can only watch, however, as Toshin-Oji’s mouth spews more blood, even as he speaks.

“Pros are always risking their lives!” He continues, like he needed to get it out. “That’s the true test of a hero!” I notice All Might grab where this ‘Kacchan’’s arm is, the other clenched fist drawing back.

“Damn you, All Might!” The villain roars, angry at the hero for intervening again.

“Detroit...Smash!” Toshin-Oji roars, punching the villain while yanking this ‘Kacchan’ guy out of it’s grip, and just like that, the battle is over. I pull the sphere back over Izuku and I as the wind slams into it, and it barely holds at all! The force of the wind puts too much strain on the sphere and it breaks as the wind increases.

I black out, unable to take that kind of energy drain. When I slowly wake up to a headache and bright light, I see Kāsan leaning over my bed, glaring at me with the overhead light shining directly into my eyes.

“What were you thinking, Takara?!” she growls, in a rare angry mood. “You know it’s illegal to use your Quirk to fight until you have a license!”

“I know! I used it only for defense!” I reply, grumpy at both my headache and the volume of my mother’s voice. “Izuku made the move, I just backed him up and made sure we didn’t both die.” I explain.

“That doesn’t give you the right to jump into those situations.” Kāsan replies. “I’ll say the same thing to this ‘Izuku’ when I him again, but know this; your actions might not be technically illegal, but you easily could have gotten hurt or killed out there! Did you even have a plan?”

“Yeah; keep the villain, fire, and debris away and back up whatever plan my friend came up with. He’s not stupid, just a bit reckless.” I protest.

“There’s no difference between the two!” Kāsan snaps waspishly. I’d rarely seen her this angry. “Your Quirk is not to be used lightly! It’s a responsibility!” I huff.

“Well, it’s not like the pros were doing anything!”

“They knew when to draw back and think of something else!” Kāsan roars. I decide it isn’t worth aggravating both my mother and my headache further and sigh.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, Kāsan. I just have a headache and it makes me cranky.” To her credit, my mother sighs and takes a breath to calm down.

“Promise not to let yourself use that much energy to fight again until you’ve gotten proper training, okay?” I nod meekly. She was right; in that situation, I was way out of my league. It could have gone so much worse.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All that being said, Takara...I’m proud of you for reacting like a hero. I don’t like the result, and I don’t like the toll it took on you, but I’m glad you and the other kids are safe.” I nod, grateful she was past her angry stage.

“Thanks, Kāsan.”

#My Hero Academia OC #Boko No Hero Academia OC #OC #Original Character #Original Female Character #BNHA #MHA #BHA Kirishima #MHA Kirishima #kirishima eijirou #eijiro kirishima x oc #fanfiction #OC Insertion Series

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thewayshefeels1 · 6 years

Text

The first Breakup

Two words; one name, a million different emotions. If you asked me to describe how he makes me feel, the only word to sum it up is speechless. I can’t believe this is it; that this is really the end. We both saw it coming. We have to let each other go but we keep holding back, in fear we are not strong enough, so we stay in the battlefield. It won’t be easy but it was hard to begin with. It’d be easier if I could erase all the memories; the times I felt like I was floating and the times I felt buried alive.

I think of the day I met him… the panic attack that transpired before I left my house and the pep talk I gave myself to survive the night. The positive affirmations I repeated in hopes that it would somehow work out. Feeling I was on top of the world when he was across from me. The rush when I realized I’d never experienced such a thing with such a boy and hoping he would come back. I remember the chill in the air, the warmth of his car. How crazy I was about him from the get-go. How I would do anything to go back. That first time feeling of falling in love; the most powerful drug there is. Not getting any sleep but not caring; I was full of energy due to the adrenaline. The way his big brown eyes would glow and his smile would make his entire face light up. How I was scared to death of how I felt. How I was too focused on sucking in my stomach and hoping my hair was in place. Complaining to mom that I’d go the whole week with clear skin but would wake up with a zit the size of Mount Everest the day I’d see him; convinced he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I remember waking up for the first time in a LONG time with a smile on my face. Blasting love songs in my car and having something to look forward to. When he texted me after he drove me home the first night saying he had a good time and spazzing out, clutching my phone to my chest crying…”god is good”. Drawing hearts in my notebook and writing poems during class. I think of how fearless I felt with him, how nothing else mattered. How I would ask Dina if she saw him at work and thought she was the best sister ever since she introduced us. He was everything I wanted. He talked about his life which seemed so interesting. He opened up about his insecurities. We were in his car and he told me he was too shy to go up to girls in fear of rejection. I remember thinking he was nuts. I lead him the wrong way so it would take longer to drive me home, I remember doing what my book told me, “be a good listener, smile and laugh, keep eye contact, have confident body language and touch whenever possible.” He spoke of past loves, I didn’t really mention mine. He said his ex-cheated with his friend and he hasn’t dated since. What sort of fool would break his heart? I thought. I cried a little for him. I remember not shutting up about him to my friends. I told my therapist how amazing he was and everything I dreamed. She told me to not get my hopes up and I shouldn’t be dating since I was just with Dan 2 months ago. I knew this was true. I had never gone such a short amount of time not being single. I’m used to 2 YEAR intervals, not 2 months. But he hadn’t lost interest in me [yet] and it was too late. He stole my heart before I could stop it. I think of weeping, assuming I wasn’t good enough and how beautiful his ex-girlfriend was. How I showed her picture to my coworkers (like a creep) and said what in god’s name is he doing with me? I didn’t want to be a downgrade. “You have to try harder” I thought. “Guys like him don’t go for girls like you, he’ll find someone better” I convinced myself. I think of how we kissed outside my house and felt fireworks in my heart. All the times it hadn’t worked out in the past were worth it because he was a dream come true. I couldn’t let him see the REAL me. I tried hard to resist… I tried so bad but fell head over heels. He is one in a million that’s for sure. We went to Dave and busters and I remember feeling pretty. We sat across each other and he asked if I felt self-conscious and I’d say yes and so would he. I remember telling mom how funny he was and she would laugh. He showed me pictures of his family and said he told them about me. I tried to seem less excited than I was. “That’s a good sign” I thought to myself. I remember seeing a girl from my job and felt so fortunate to be by his side. I remember trying to take in every exquisite detail of his face and hoping he wouldn’t see me staring from the passenger seat. I remember the nights we talked on the phone while he was at work (this was new to me). He took me places I’d never been, he made me feel alive. I didn’t want to be just another girl. I remember being terrified; I hardly knew him and it was already risky. “Back out now while you can. If you leave now then you won’t get hurt” I told myself. I couldn’t… I wanted to but I couldn’t. I think of night’s facetiming, I don’t remember the first time but I’m sure I was mortified. I remember hearing his text tone go off and feeling like I had a heart arrhythmia. I remember going to 7-11 and trying blue Gatorade for the first time. I drank from his bottle and later kept the wrapper (weird). He bought us movie tickets prior to save seats and nobody ever did that before. I wanted to cry because for once someone was treating me like I was worth something. I remember trying to hurry up in the bathroom when he was waiting but wanting to fix my hair and feeling rushed. And when I got out, seeing a tall, dark, handsome guy waiting for ME... it couldn’t be real.

So here I am once again writing about some dude that drove me to insanity. He should’ve come with a warning label “warning: I will draw you in, you will not be able to leave, you will fall in love, proceed with caution.” I can’t say no to this boy. Until the other day… when my fantasy was shattered, when my dreams fell apart, when I finally decided to get my head out my ass. I told him to not try and figure me out, I warned him I would let him down. I suppose neither of us wanted to be right about each other. I am furious, angry because it is not fair. It doesn’t have to be this way. Why can’t I have him? I’ve cried so many nights, so many tears on this one human. I didn’t know how much pain you could feel, grieving for the loss of someone who is still alive. I love him so much, but I need to love myself more. I don’t know how to do that. How can someone feel so right and wrong at the same time? I would look into his eyes sometimes and not know what I was looking at. The same eyes that warmed my heart, the eyes I lost myself in; turned into black stones. Nothing was there. I was hurting and he didn’t care. Or did he? I would be dying inside and want him to notice. “Can you tell I’m lying? Can you tell I’m pretending to be ok?” I wanted him to call me on my bluff, say no you’re not alright and see through my fake smile. But he spoke to me with words while I spoke to him through feelings. I thought I could see his soul, but on rare occasion did he care enough to notice mine. By then it’d already been too late. This imaginary love story I have in my mind is holding me back. There are no happy endings, no fairytales here. Prince charming is never going to sweep me off my feet and carry me to a faraway land. It is safer to be alone. I try to make myself feel better by telling myself that at one time I didn’t know him. This time last year I was living without him. But I’d just be in denial if I kept saying that to myself, trying to convince myself it didn’t matter. I wanted to stay by his side. I wanted to pick him up when he fell and comfort him when he needed somebody to hold. I wanted to be that person to make him strong when he was feeling weak. I wanted to help him breathe in a world so suffocating. Be that one special person for him… I wanted to make it. I didn’t want to be the one that got away. Another failed relationship, just another statistic, another one of his exes. I wanted to be the one. I said this once and I’ll say it again, some people are meant to be alone. It’s better to lose him now than five years down the road anyway. That’s the only way I can think about it that makes me feel better. The pain feels like torture now yet it would’ve been unbearable if it went on any longer. He told me I am strong, but I’m one of the weakest people I know. My whole life is a lie, love is a foreign concept to me. I hope one day he finds out what love really means. He said I make him feel like a villain. When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don’t get to decide you didn’t. Maybe we just need things we both cannot give each other. Perhaps we were only kidding ourselves. I told him that chaos isn’t passion, destruction of the heart isn’t beautiful. Love isn’t painful, love doesn’t equate with arguments, negativity, tension, selfishness or toxicity. I don’t know much about love but I’ve loved enough in my life to know love is about being supportive, considerate and reliable. Why wait until you are let down to tell the truth? He feels I threw him away. He said “you’re willing to throw away all we have?!” These words alone says he doesn’t know how much he means to me. You can love someone and let them go. I did everything he ever asked. You can let someone go and still have your heart broken. Why is it only the one who is left who's allowed to feel pain? Does the one who made the decision to leave not deserve to feel abandoned? People will only treat you how they feel about themselves. When I look at him I see someone who acts like he has it all together but has deep, emotional scars. I’m not sure if he knows who he truly is. I sure as hell don’t know who I am but at least I’m trying; but when you aren’t willing to dig deeper, to uncover the lies we tell ourselves (or others have told us) and strip away the layers, then you will never grow, you will never heal. You must take off the mask long enough to be honest with the person looking back at you; kill the denial which exists as a defense mechanism protecting our ego. He pointed out he lost 20 pounds during our relationship. How could our love be pure if we both destroyed each other? I never meant to hurt him; I didn’t want to put him through the hell in which I lived. I think of how lost I’m going to feel without him. I tried to make him happy, but is that even possible if I can’t make myself happy? Last night I felt so empty, I wished he was with me, I ached for him, feeling shattered and bruised in a state of confusion. If I ever made him feel neglected, unhappy, taken for granted, I need to ask for forgiveness. I know that would bring up old feelings. I told him we bring all our old baggage and past into our new relationships. However, only if haven’t settled those issues and worked on them. If I need to lose him in order for him to find himself, then so be it. If I can’t be with him so that he can have better things then I accept that. I will not be selfish and prevent any good from entering his life. I wish I could be part of that but I would never want to be a negative source of energy that inhibits the flow of love into someone whom I care abouts life. I can’t allow us to break each other to keep us together. One of the things I loved most about him is that I didn’t have to be normal around him; he enjoyed my madness [to an extent] and I enjoyed his [to a point also]. We didn’t force each other to “be normal” we could be ourselves and I appreciated that. So tomorrow will be the final goodbye. Seeing him is like a reset button, I fall in love all over again. It never took much to love him, but it took everything to leave him. Why does it feel impossible to let him go? It sucks because there are songs I can’t listen to anymore without hearing him, places I can’t go without seeing him. The hardest part is to stop trying to put the pieces back together and just let it go. But how do you just walk away from someone you tried to desperately hold on to? Trying to force life into a dead thing is painful and frustrating. My wish for him is that his strength carries him through; that eventually he will love himself and will let go of the need for control. It will outweigh his resentment and lead him on the path to self-discovery. He is worth it to me, but he most importantly owes it to himself. I’ve learned you can’t fix people and there’s no use trying to save them, all you can do is love them, pray for them, be there for them. I hope someday he will see himself the same way I do when I look at him. You can’t have a relationship with someone hoping they’ll “come around”. You have to be willing to commit to them, as they are with no expectations. I tried to protect my heart but he managed to get in somehow. If I want somebody to love I will have to become the own love of my life. The only person you owe anything to is yourself; we are all we ever need. You can’t be everything to anyone if you are nothing to yourself.

So when I think of him I think of how badly I wanted him to be my success story and happy ending. But in a way I think he is... I learned no one person defines you, they only compliment. And you can’t be with somebody just because you are scared at the thought of being ruined without them. The whole point of a relationship is to make each other better, enjoy one another’s company, and support each other when they need it most. While a huge part of me is crumbling inside screaming “don’t go, don’t leave me, why?! I was counting on us, we were supposed to be together.” Another part says “I hope we meet again when were both better. I pray we still end up together.”

“I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more”

#intimacy #intimate #romance #romantic #truelove #love quotes #i love you #self love #lessons #lesson #lessonslearned #lessonlearned #breakup

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years

Text

Life Story Part 55

I think perhaps in my own way, I was starting to attempt to reframe Mike as a father figure to me in replacement of my own father, so when he went cold towards me for having accused Jenni of being a liar – though I had already tried my best to explain that I didn't mean it as derogatorily as he felt I had, it was a great disappointment to me personally. I was left feeling to a degree that I should never ever have opened myself up to trusting anyone – and I was sorry I had ever let myself open up at all. I had also grown sort of fond of my mother's boyfriend Danny as well. I had started to want to regard him as a permanent stepfather – the cool kind of step parent at the very least. It wasn't that I was all that enthralled with him, but he was nice to us, and at times he seemed to make some sort of an effort to get to know us – which was endearing and certainly the sign of good stepparent material. He let me sit at his computer for as long as I wanted. He bought us food. He joked around with us. In light of these positive moments, I tried to refrain from thinking about the times he made my mother feel small and stupid, as is the universal temptation to discount the crimes of someone you want to like. I knew that there was problems between my mother and Danny – that it probably wouldn't work out. I could always tell things weren't working out when my mother started talking about marriage like it was coming up. Perhaps it was a sort of denial she had. I didn't know the details, and I wanted to more or less keep it that way. I was just starting to trust Danny a little bit – and maybe, just maybe, I would grow to see him as a new stepfather of sorts. It didn't work out that way.

Danny had privately been knocking my mom's self esteem down quite a lot – intentionally and abusively. I didn't see a lot of it, but he was making a lot of comments about her being old and fat. He was a very phony guy. And what I didn't notice then that I do now is that he was a very empty person. He would smile and make jokes and seem like an oh so nice fella, but it didn't come off as quite real when you got to know him. And even the barflies were onto his game, often stating that he was a nutbag or a fraud – though he was one of the richer and better looking ones of their lowly lot and generally speaking he should have remained popular for that reason alone in the smoky taverns of lost people. There was something really wrong with Danny. He just didn't seem to have any compassion or understand other people – but was very good at functioning as though he did to such a degree that it was hard to tell at first. He wasn't the type to fly into a rage. He was decent at gift-giving and favors. But the reason he did those nice things seemed to have nothing connected to caring about the person he had done the nice thing for – like it wasn't computing.

He subtly seemed to respect positions of power, and many of his kind reactions or softness seemed almost mechanical after awhile, like a conscious decision almost. He was also deeply selfish – he seemed to only be proud of his material belongings like his Harley or his 40,000$ truck. Never a word did he ever reflect on why. He never talked about himself in a meaningful way. He was insanely phony, but it more or less flowed off him freely – were other toxic people I have known tend to suffer with themselves in the end – have mixed feelings about who they are, struggle with regret and cognitive dissonance, there were none of that with Danny; it just seemed that nothing phased him. I hesitate to go diagnosing anyone generally, for the obvious reasons I am not a doctor, but I do sometimes wonder if Danny was a sociopath and I categorize him as such due to the nature of his innerworkings.

Eventually I stopped trusting Danny, and it came as a bit of a blow to my personal trust. He and my mother were fighting a lot, while I was away, which was most the time. Aside from making her feel used up and ugly with quiet mean spirited jabs, he had a way of making you feel like something was your fault. As an example, he would want to take my mother out drinking some nights. My mom didn't really want to drink anymore, but she would do anything for Danny of course. So she would get dressed up to go out with him. Instead of telling her she looked pretty, he would quietly make a comment about how silly he made her look since she dressed up to go out with him. She would become extremely embarrassed and request that perhaps she should go back to the room and change into something more casual, but then he would mock her for that as well.

Then when they got to the bar, he would make a comment that he didn't want her to drink too much. So she would avoid drinking while she and him were at the bar together. By this time, he was basically one hundred percent in control. She could only drink or wear what he wanted her to, but she knew as well that she didn't have any of his approval whatsoever, and she was at his mercy. She'd be a ball of nervousness. When she abstained from drinking as he had told her to, he would quietly berate her for not drinking – seeing it as some kind of personal insult to him and all he had done for her – bothered taking her out and the like. This would make her confused and ashamed of herself, and she would then try to drink to make him happy, but then he would call her a drunk and tell her she was an idiot for trying to drink when she clearly didn't want to, essentially gaslighting her. At this point he would accuse her of getting aggressive with him and her drinking was a sign that she was mad at him and wanted to get drunk and fight – which he was 'too classy to get mixed up in' being Mr. quiet jackass that he was. Basically, he just gaslighted her constantly all day every day. This example was how they did everything, and even though my mom was already neurotic, I think this really caused her to be emotionally unhinged and lost about who sh was. It was causing her to act like a little child. She would even talk in a little child's voice – and when anyone said anything to her for the rest of the weekend, commenting that for instance she might have burned the toast in the oven on accident, she would take it extremely personal about it and take out on us what Danny had been doing to her, stating that we were attacking her.

What's more, Danny was intentionally trapping my mom in situations with her friends at the bar and even with us kids to make it look like she was the crazy one – not him. He made it look like she was acting crazy at him for no reason. And then when she did this in front of everyone, he would look around at all of us, and point to her and say 'hey, your mom is crazy huh kids?' She was so nervous at this point that she was making all kinds of errors in her thinking – and this only made things even worse. It was really horrible, and Danny would immediately jump her case on everything she said wrong. I was so focused on school,that I didn't really see this entirely. Had I known, I would have punched his lights out. I don't particularly care for my mom to be honest. But I would never for a second let someone treat her this way. It isn't that she is a kind person, or some kind of saint – since I have also seen her act cruelly and play her own vicious games with people. What I know about her is that she's also a very vulnerable person and very easy to pick to pieces. She just never grew past the severe abuse of her childhood, she never was empowered as a woman – she was always under some controlling man's wing. She permanently fixed at the age of nine in many ways. Intense trauma and having had nothing to fall back on as a child, that's who she is now. She's forever damaged, and damaging.

Danny was friends with my neighbor next door by my father's house back in Kendrick. The two men worked together at the same factory – it's a small world in the rural inland northwest. Of course, ever since my sister Roxanne got pregnant at twelve, rumors spread about us Sanborns in general, about the divorce, about me, my father, my sisters and such – most of what was being said was malicious and untrue -as is the typical way that small towns talk. The rumor about my mother was that she did a lot of heroin and abandoned us entirely. This was sort of true – but not entirely, and certainly not a fair assessment. She had been a terrible mother but she had still seen us on weekends. She had done meth, but mostly she drank to excess – and Danny knew this about my mother – and what she had been recovering from. To her credit, she had made some attempts to get to know us that previous few years. In any case, Danny was in no position to judge her at all, since he had done some crazy stuff for cocaine in the 80's, but whatever. I guess it is all pointless now – nor is this some kind of purity contest, other than he was in no position to judge her.

So one night when I was at the computer, Danny wanted to talk to me about my mom after starting a bunch of false conversations about something else to loosen up my tongue a bit I suppose. He was very nice about it. He seemed to really listen to me and understand – he gave off this phony sense of understanding and fair consideration. He quizzed me on my relationship with my mother. I told him that we hadn't been close, that she had partied, but that I forgave her – and I knew she had pretty much gotten her life together all things considered. I had no qualms with her, and it didn't matter much to me since I was more interested in living my own life. Mostly I was happy she had gotten better. I didn't spin it that negatively in any way. I don't even think I told him very much. Obviously, she and my father had fucked up my life by forcing me to babysit among many other painful but I didn't bother talking about that. He didn't get a whole lot out of me, but what I did say, he used against my mom in a fight – with the 'verification from our lousy neighbors, misconstruing it into something to further cut deeper and hurt her even more. This hurt my mom's feelings a lot. She was confused and felt like Danny and I had teamed up to attack her. When she talked about it with me, her eyeballs seemed to bounce around tragically in their sockets. And I was at loss for words. I tried to explain to my mom that I hadn't meant anything personal about it. We both knew what the truth was, and what I had said to him wasn't exactly secret. She didn't seem to understand the nature of the way I had been asked, or the nature of the way I had made the exchange in conversation. I for some reason just hadn't thought of a person using what I had told them against her like that. And then he kicked us all out.

I was very enraged and vowed to not tell people about my family life anymore unless I knew them better. I felt betrayed that he had used my personal pain and my own life as a cheap weapon against her. I supposed it hurt too, since he had lucidly began seeing him as a stepdad. This happened around the same time that Mike had closed me off, so between these two, I really just had to face the facts. In reality, my father was my father. I could not go out and get a new one. As unhappy of a relationship I had with my dad was, I guess I kind of knew for sure that he was never going to take a step out of that role – close me off or cut those kinds of ties. He was still someone that I had to be afraid of, had to emotionally tiptoe around, and he was not a friend of mine. But he had still sacrificed and made an effort on my behalf at several points in my life – as paradoxical as it sounds given everything that had happened. Which sounds like I am cheering on behalf of my father because of Mike and Danny, but in reality, this was more of a painful acceptance than it was any kind of blissful epiphany. It kind of stung a little. I just had to accept that I was going on seventeen and it was probably a bit late in the game to be finding new parents.

Sarah's car was really a miracle, driving to and fro from Moscow and back in the winter. That little blue Honda was really something. It almost felt like our friend. It snowed heavily every other day and still this old car kept working while many cars slid or broke down everyday on our drive up. But it was only a matter of time of course, before it was dark and cold outside and the vehicle ended up breaking down on us anyway on a farmer's road (which we took because it was a shortcut from the main road), and we were left out in the black cold night to figure out what to do next. It would still be several more years before Kendrick had cellphone reception, so we had nobody to call for the time being – and I don't think Sarah even had a cellphone yet come to think of it. My first reaction to cars breaking down, as absurd as it is, is a disappointment that the music stopped playing, and I have to consciously force myself to see the bigger issues. We ended up walking to this house that was down the ways – which we were actually lucky we broke down somewhat close to (there were places that were ten miles from the nearest house). We knocked on the door and low and behold, it was my old Agriculture, Future Farmers of America teacher Mrs. Gulke's home, of all people. She was actually really nice which was strange given she was a humorless resentful and angry woman at school. She seemed like a completely different person outside of school. In the end, she let us use her phone, gave us something warm to drink. Her and her husband actually wanted to go out and see what was wrong with the car themselves. Quite a different side of her I suppose.

That ended up working out more or less. I don't remember what was wrong with the vehicle, but Sarah's step dad Jim looked at it and fixed that problem. But then, a month after that the car ended up breaking down once more. This time we were just on the outskirts of Moscow – it was even colder out, and we drove into a side road to park it. It happened very fast. We had decided to get out of the Honda and were kind of in a daze wondering what to do next – it was snowing, the sky was that weird pinkish color – as skies get that way when you combine city lights and snow and we could see our breath and we looked at one another misgivingly. Almost immediately, we heard a gleeful drunkenly happy voice call out to us by name- which was incredibly surreal and familiar to us, and there was Ava in the driver seat of the car her parents had bought her, with a gaggle of high teenagers in the back seats. We wearily explained our predicament to Ava, who delighted and jovial suggested we ride down to Kendrick with her, and to get on in the car. I really didn't want to get in the car with Ava. She was a shitty driver when sober as it was. But I guess we didn't feel like we had any other alternative. I always kind of wondered why Ava showed up just at that moment. It seemed almost too perfect. The road was incredibly untraveled, and not many people lived out there. The fact that Ava just happened to show up and save us at that moment always struck me as incredibly odd. It seemed odd enough to me, where I almost took it like a message from the universe somehow.

Might I add, Ava was high and possibly drunk. The people in the back seats that we slipped into the backseat with were actively smoking weed, and the whole back seat was nothing but a cloud of potsmoke.

The whole car ride home, Ava swerved all over the the road, constantly changing cds and laughing manically. At one point a deer ran into the road, and it caused Ava to swerve into the other side of the road and almost hit another vehicle. Ava just laughed it off. Sarah and I were sitting next to each other in the back seat. We looked over at one another nervously. I was also very worried about getting high by second hand smoke. I was so overly worried about it, that I was doing things like holding my breath and trying to breath through my sleeve without looking lame to the other passengers. It was so smoky in that car, it didn't even seem real to me. Obviously, my fears were greatly exaggerated. I had the reefer madness scare going on, though even had I not, getting second hand high in a cloud of marijuana fog trapped in the backseat with a bunch of stoned strangers listening to Incubus, while Ava drove like a madwoman down the snowy grade in the dark night against my will wasn't exactly my idea of a decent first time to try it.

So I did what I could to avoid getting high by trying to breath the air that primarily came out of a crack in the backseat window, but that naturally started not to work. I can't say I was totally stoned out of my mind, but Sarah and I both started feeling the effects eventually. I noticed my temperature change considerably. My mind took on a foggy quality – not crazy blurry, but more like I was living more in myself if that makes any sense, and I became very nervous and antsy simultaneously, though that could easily have been stressed induced by the real circumstance I was in – I could not tell. It didn't quite effect me like I thought it would have. I grew up thinking you took a hit of weed and you were suddenly immersed in some kind of psychedelic trippy atmosphere of color, with some cliché 60's guitar solo from Deep Purple, Cream, or Jimi Hendrix's All Along the Watchtower playing all around you, and you would not be able to control yourself and you would begin to hippie dance and everything in your mind would just shut down. In reality, I felt very much like I was still me. I still was aware in many respects. I just felt kind of off – not unlike skipping a night of rest in it's degree of effect – but not even that profoundly. It wasn't over the top. And it didn't even effect me that much really. Other than paranoid a little, I was still perfectly capable of clear thinking and comprehension.

When we finally got into Kendrick, Ava had mysteriously become annoyed with us, which I didn't take to mean anything, because that was just how Ava was. When I got out of the back seat, my legs were unusually wobbly. For some reason, my feet felt like I was stepping on holes that were about a third the size of my feet, and I had to think about how to walk – since for some reason my body didn't want to naturally go, so each step was very carefully taken. I attribute this to the weed. I went into the house, and Maria had made dinner. Normally, I am thoughtful about how many servings I go for, but I went crazy on the food immediately. I was shaking with fatigue and this intense craving for food – which I assumed to be the munchies. I gobbled up my plate of food, then went for seconds and thirds, and afterwards, Maria had bought prepackaged deli cookies, the kind that mostly taste like flour and Crisco frosting and she gave me some of them, not my favorite, but they tasted heavenly. I had never eaten such a delicious cookie in my entire life. I told Maria about what had happened as I gobbled the food and she looked at me with amusement. I made her promise not to tell my father. I think under the circumstances he might not have blamed me for getting high, given the unwilling accidental nature of it, but I just felt it would be safer if he didn't know. You never know when this kind of thing might come back to haunt you.

For a few days before Christmas Break started, Sarah and I had to skip class because the roads were too bad to drive on. This set us close to getting our credits taken away, but in the end we made it work just barely. One of the days that I missed, I accidentally took too many diet pills, vitamins in one setting on an empty stomach, with only one big cup of coffee, which was too much coffee for me – as I am a weak little thing in the face of caffeine. I ended up finding out only too late that I had overdone it with the vitamins and caffeine and that I should have paced myself and eaten something before I jumped into it and foolishly decided to take all of these things at once, and I threw up, which in the end caused me to miss a day of school, and I was regretful of that. It was the first time in my life where I actually was sorry to have missed class.

Then before I knew it, Christmas break came and went. I don't remember as much what I got for Christmas that year, though I do remember getting A Clockwork Orange, which I finally watched two years after Zack had recommended it to me. I was mesmerized by the film, and end up watching it over and over again, and it's still one of my very favorites. I didn't go outside much anymore. I just stayed in doors, where it was warm. I started listening to a lot of early Black Sabbath for awhile there, and for a short stint of time, Black Sabbath was my favorite band. I falsely became some kind of early 70's hard rock enthusiast, but then that phase passed by within a month's time. It was never to be and I was once more absorbed by Radiohead, David Bowie, Bob Dylan and The White Stripes like normal.

One night, after visiting with Sarah for the day, I came home to Allison telling Maria she refused to go to bed. It was something she was too old for, given she was ten or eleven. Her reasoning was that she was afraid of the dark entryway and stairway. Admittedly, I think everyone who ever lived in that house felt extremely uncomfortable in that area of the house, it's cold, antiquated, there is no light, it just feels like someone is looming at you, and the door creaked and echoed up to the tall narrow ceilings– but I sort of knew that Allison had gone upstairs before, and she was doing this because she was feeling challenged that Maria was telling her what to do.

I should probably point out that by this point, I was no longer a horrible sister, nor did I get violent urges anymore. I no longer felt the animosity or need to be harsh or mean towards either Allison or David based on how I was feeling. I was learning well the art of internally dealing with crippling depression and rage by writing about it and dissecting it, and I left them out of whatever I was going through emotionally, and I tended to think about how I behaved around them quite a bit. But it's also important for me to say too that for them, the dynamics and the mental hurt I had caused was still very much real and part of our family. Both of them were still very much subconsciously resentful towards me for how I had treated them, and to be honest – raised them, since my parent's were both gone so much. They always felt threatened by me, no matter how collected I was towards them, and they at the same time would go out of their way to sort of serve me or entertain me for my approval – but at the same time wanted to see power stripped from me. In short, their self esteems were damaged by me.

I told Allison that I would help her go up to her bedroom and would even visit with her for a bit before she fell asleep. I did this hoping she would comply and stop fighting Maria on it. Neither Allison nor Maria were being functional, and I thought this functional solution would damper Allison's aversion to being told what to do. Allison was/is one of the stubbornest people I have ever known. She didn't like this answer at all. Her face coiled resentfully, and she angrily said no to this suggestion, given that it was one more person tell her what to do, and it was a win for Maria – and she would be forced to go to bed – which she obviously didn't want. So she refused to go up there anyway – stating that it was still scary. I tried to point out that we had literally gone up there together every night, but this only further angered her. And when I tried to ask her why she wailed at me furiously, and then I foolishly tried to grab her hand to guide her to the steps, and she suddenly screamed out in pain as though I had struck her, and then she threw herself onto the ground and began flailing and screaming in agony begging me to stop beating her. I just stood there looking down at her confused since I had barely grazed her hand at all.

Looking at her face, I could see a moment of self realization dawn as she realized that she had made this a one sided thing. She had hoped I think to get me to participate in the act of victimizing her – to in a sense I think, put her back in control in this weird way. I think she had been hoping that I would suddenly try to grab her or possibly hit her I guess. People are strange. But I didn't do anything but look down at her confused and mildly annoyed. I was mostly annoyed – not because she wasn't going to bed which I almost didn't care. Being an older teenager means you stop caring what your child-siblings do I think, but I was mad that she was accusing me of beating her. She stopped flailing eventually after I walked away, but continued to scream in this hoarse high pitch noise. She looked around as she did this, as she was attempting in her way to get attention, and eventually stopped when nobody was impressed. I was pretty irate that she had accused me of beating her, and I told her that she was acting like a baby and she should know better than to lie about it. Then I walked away and went to bed in a huff. I wasn't even deeply upset by this or anything. It just was a sort of insult to the truth.

So, Maria had been watching this whole thing happen. She knew I had not attacked Allison. She even agreed with me in the living room after the fact. But for whatever twisted reason, she decided to tell my father this made up story that I had been screaming and crying and threatening to kill myself and screaming that I hated them all and threatening them, and that I had started the whole thing out of thin air. Why on earth Maria decided to lie about this, I shall never know. It's not that I was actually a ball of joy by any means, but in that situation I had reacted mostly reasonably. My mind was so deep into reading and studying Shakespeare, being mad at Sarah, or longing for and holding onto Zack in some weird metaphoric way. I didn't get mad about the sibling stuff so much anymore. My best guess is that Maria wanted to try to use the situation to see if my father would react negatively towards me. She wanted to see what would happen. Maria had been known to do things like that growing up, and I guess she just wanted to cause some drama.

In any case, I talked to Allison about it a few days later, and though she was hesitant to even discuss it, she admitted that I had not beaten her, nor had I screamed out anything about suicide. And she had the decency to back me up when I explained it to my father.

I guess Allison in school by this time was throwing those same sorts of fits in class. I wasn't around much during this time so I didn't honestly hear about it too often. I think Allison really struggled as the middle child in our dysfunctional family unit. She had a naturally outgoing attention seeking personality, and for the most part, our parents have overlooked her for David, our youngest brother. And then there was me, and while I had it the roughest in a lot of ways, there was also a certain kind of trust you build with your parents and also a certain level of freedom you get from being the oldest. Allison was being severely neglected. I am not sure that my mom ever entirely wanted Allison to be honest. And our dad wouldn't even both to listen to Allison talk. He didn't take her seriously as a person. So for someone so outgoing and in need of approval, it was a shame that she was put in the worst position.

So Allison always felt ignored and out of place. And neither Allison nor I had a mother's touch in our life, and I could relate to that having been in her shoes as a 3rd/ 4th/5th grader. Looking back at all our school pictures, Allison and I both had terrible unkept hair, and ratty unmatching clothes. Low self esteems. And while I dealt with my stress by diving into my imagination so deeply that very few things peaked my interest enough to come out, Allison didn't have the same way of dealing with it. She needed attention,and she had to get it any way any how. She didn't really have any friends like I had, not to say my pals were great, but they did exist for me to some extent. She had one friend – a boy named Garen who seemed to have a crush on her, which didn't end up lasting that long.

Allison would explode when people were mean to her in class, and it was out of hand. She locked herself in the closet, she threw her books, pushed over the desks, tried to cut other girl's hair off. And though David was a bit more reserved, he was not apposed to reacting strongly to being made fun of. I suppose it would be fair to say that both of them had more dignity than I did. I had dealt with the same feelings myself, but rather than lash out, I sort of became like a jellyfish when people were cruel to me, crawling deep into my own mental caves. David dealt with his stress by punching out other boys who caused him problems, often with my father's approval, since he saw it as macho – an extension of his own 'machoness'. Often times, David had not started it – at least not in school. He was very polite in school and in public generally without provocation, but couldn't really handle any form of rudeness whatsoever – which is inevitable in your typical elementary school, especially for us Sanborns. David was/is highly sensitive, I would say to the point where it nearly made him nonfunctioning. So when kids at school were mean to him, he beat them up and he and Allison both earned their reputations.

Allison was more known to throw tantrums in class. She had to be sent home from school a lot. She attacked students while in class, throwing her books at them and the teacher in a hysteric state that made her infamous in school. A lot of it was based on a deep need for attention that she wasn't getting any of at home, being the middle child from a set of neglectful parents. She once was upset during the middle of a lesson in class, and once screaming, intentionally she shoved her head in between the bars underneath the desk chair in a way so that her head couldn't come out. And then she flailed and screamed, and they had to get professionals in to squeeze her head out, all while the entire class looked on. It's funny to laugh at sometimes these days, but it really was sign that something was very wrong. Nobody was paying any attention to Allison or recognizing that she needed help. And what was strange is that almost all of the teachers didn't see her outlandish behavior as a sign that she needed help or had some serious problems at home. Some even went so far as to side with her bullies, because to them Allison was just making their job more difficult and that was all they were willing to recognize.

That winter, I began reading to Allison and David. I guess for me, I was looking back at all the things that I had not known or had the tools to figure out at their age. I wish someone had shown me how to reflect on these ideas, rather than be forced day after day into a painful meaningless humiliating existence. For the most part, my aesthetic, the principles of living what I felt was a life of authenticity and integrity, the way you navigate personal feelings towards people, how to know yourself truly – these things that I at least at the time felt that I had finally, at the age of sixteen had finally had some sort of notion of, were things I had to learn by suffering in despair, in a system had always tried to force me into the same cookie cutter shape as everyone else, in a world that was quickly and quietly encouraging the creative inquisitive childlike mind of honesty to sort of shut down and accept whatever future was meant for your said class/ethnic background/color/gender/orientation and so forth. A world full of empty distractions and fake people. And I looked at Allison and David and I really wanted them to not have to be pushed into life in the same way I had. I felt that reading to Allison and David would be a start for them that I was never given. I wanted to show them that there was an alternative to what people put in front of you. Allison and David both really enjoyed the books I picked out. I would stop and explain the underlying feelings of the characters, or the symbolism or meaning of a word or phrase. I started off with A Brave New World, and as I went on to read, I always assessed as I was reading if the book I had in my hand would be a good one to show Allison and David. On a selfish note, perhaps I was trying to build friends out of them who would understand me

That January, we had been studying the classic Faust – the story of a man who essentially sells his soul to the devil for powers, and the Shakespeare story of Othello about a man's suspicions on the purity of his wife. It was difficult reading these two texts and making meaning out of them. It was easy to understand the simple summary of the two plays, but it was harder to really grasp the meaning behind it all. I had to reread everything I read several time, take notes and ask questions. It was tedious and took hours of time. I focused very hard on these plays for many hours and for several weeks – it felt like it would never end. And while it was important for me to grasp the meaning, it was also important for me personally, as it became almost a personal quest for myself. I think if you dig deeply enough in any piece of literature, you can usually find something in it that pertains to you.

I didn't even particularly enjoy either of the plays too well – and dare I say it, though I respect Shakespeare, the language is so thickly different from what I am used to that I mostly find it to be a challenge and not very enjoyable overall. We were told that we were to write a five page essay that in some way tied the underlying story of Othello and Faust. The details of this essay was more specific than this, but I don't recall the details. I don't recall the meaning of either play, other than it was mainly about hubris. I mostly felt like that this exercise sharpened my skills. We had to use examples from the texts, and what we had to say had to be written perfectly, with no more and no less words than what was needed. I remember just having this knowing sense of dread as I dragged myself through it. I sat down, and I did my very best to tie the two stories together and their symbolism and examples of cross meaning. Strangely, it took me very little time to do so, and I felt that I much have been missing something. Everyone else wrote several pages, and my paper only ended up being one page long. I looked it over several times looking for what more I could say or do, and I knew that everything that needed to be said was on this one paper. I finally just accepted that my grade would be docked, and I just turned it in as was– mostly to be done with the paper and with Faust, Mephistopheles, Othello, Iago, and Desdemona forever.

I thought nothing more about it, willing to accept whatever grade I was given. Then, Mike called me after class a week later. I didn't know what he had to say and I talked to him cautiously certain I was going to be told I had done something incorrect and he needed to let me know about it. I swallowed my pride and went up to him after class. He had a funny expression on his face, and he ended up telling me that this paper on Faust and Othello was probably the second best paper he had ever graded in his ten years as a teacher. He meant it. He had little tears in the corners of his eyes almost. He told me that he had looked it over for flaws, and he could find none. He was besides himself. I felt shocked by that. I had proven the point so perfectly that there had genuinely been no need to fill up more sheets of paper,and he agreed. Every word was perfectly used. He had been so astounded by this essay I had written, that he had actually had a university professor friend of his look it over briefly to look for flaws too, it was a university professor well noted for being a harsh when grading essays. And this guy also thought my paper was perfect. They both felt that my paper could have been handed in by a professional who knew their stuff. And Mike told me this, even aside from his personal bias against me.

I almost felt weird about it. Like, when I was writing it, I had just wanted to get through it for one. I had been chugging some kind of green energy drink, and munching on coffee cake from the school kitchen with a headache from staring at the screen for five hours straight, probably secretly checking my new MySpace account (which was just beginning to be all the rage) and feeling angry towards Sarah or annoyed at how Lyndon was chewing his food and calling out the names of anime characters next to us. I had just wanted to get through it – and that had more or less been all. I didn't think I was going to flunk exactly, but I didn't think I had written a masterpiece by any means either, and admittedly I had mercilessly gone over what I had written several times to make sure it seemed good. But I guess I must have somehow created some kind of academic gem of an essay by some kind of weird fluke – and I never fully understood how.

I felt very proud of myself to say the least. It really added to a solid foundation, and gave me an avenue for relating to the world – I could write, and I might just write something meaningful or enjoyable on accident if I did it often enough. It gave me this sense that I was capable in my own life of reaching into things and coming up with meaningful conclusions. That I could almost dig through the world of ideas and reach core truths. It was something that nobody in my family was capable of doing. The words I could write could cut through bullshit. I could express myself through writing in a way I was absolutely incapable of doing in person. It gave me a taste of what I was capable of as an individual, and a sense of who I wanted to be as a person. Of course, this isn't to say that I see myself as some kind of grand writer. Most of my writing has been legitimately terrible, self loathing, sappy, boring embarrassing, and what's more, I have very little interest in being a novelist for the most part. I mostly do it because it calms me down. I guess I at least have some kind of clue as to what I am doing sometimes.

And it made me feel weird. A part of me went home and worried if I was becoming uncool. Would Zack ever have cared that I wrote a essay on hubris that was so grand? Could either of my parents really appreciate what that meant? Did secretly being smart make you less of an anticonformist? Heck, it sort of separated me mentally from Sarah. The idea that I was somehow some sort of potential intellectual in the making, even a little bit made me feel really confused about what I had grown up believing about myself. I had never seen myself as exceptionally gifted or bright by any means. So strangely enough, a part of me was kind of angry.

And in our research studies, we were often going back to the big university library for school projects. I was always fast about getting what I absolutely needed so I could be free to explore. I often wandered around, and just seeing all those books expanded my mind. I had strange wordless epiphanies as I walked around. It was almost like an out of body experience. I felt not like myself, but like, I was everyone who had ever existed and at the same time, nothing in the outside world was as real as what you could feel in these books. To me, it was almost better than being madly in love. It was almost worth trading in memories of Zack for. I would walk through the isles, and feel all these feelings – happiness, sadness, anger, excitement. It all swirled together into this strange buzzing feeling. I felt like I could capture the essences of the books around me. Outside the sky was overcast and it was cold. The library was quiet and perfect. I ended up traversing to the art and music section. I remember reading about music that was much different than what I had been used to. I had been kind of used to the generic rock band set up of how music was meant to be played. Not that there is anything wrong with four guys playing rock songs, or anything like that. But it was in the library that winter that I spent a great deal of time reading about Ella Fitzgerald, Ma Rainey, Billie Holiday, and more experimental stuff like Captain Beefheart. It gave me this broader perspective that there were many many aspects of life that I had never once truly grazed upon.

One thing I really remember too, was getting a hold of a book of Andy Warhol's art. There was a philosophy to his art that intrigued and challenged me. It sort of tore things to pieces and broke rules that go beyond art. It sort of tore down rules that society and our ideas are generally based upon. I don't think a lot of people really get that the soup can itself is not supposed to be impressive in and of itself, as I have spoke to many people who don't seem to get the way Andy Warhol played upon commercialism and our postmodern existence. There was a much deeper and more postmodern interpretation of his art that I think reflected society in a very big way for me, or rather – maybe it could be said that it deinterpreted society. I was very much inspired by Andy Warhol, and his factory. I remember trying to explain it to Sarah or to show her how great Andy Warhol was. I wanted fame still, but I think what I wanted more was to be an artist with a message. The more I studied the outsiders of modern culture, the less interest I had of being on the front of Teen Beat magazine or making it to MTV. I wanted a small group of people who understood me. I wanted to create something and for it to be a part of building the great something of humanity itself. It was becoming less and less about me, even though with art, to a certain degree there will always be a self referencing aspect to it that some might call narcissism. And I wanted to interpret this profound inspiration I felt into whatever it was that Sarah and I ended up doing creatively after we got out of school for good. She liked it all of course – what I had to say, Andy Warhol specifically, but I think by this time she was talking to her online friend Alex a lot and didn't have as much interest in Captain Beefheart or Andy Warhol, and I think she might have been feeding off of the fact that I seemed very much inspired. Aside from the fact we were fighting, there seemed to be a strange dreamy distance that had set upon her, which I thought was odd, but didn't speculate upon at the time.

PART 54 - http://tinyurl.com/yb8nlwvh

PART 53 - http://tinyurl.com/yae9wgbj

PART 52 - http://tinyurl.com/ybwft2g6

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nemesis-nexus · 5 years

Text

Full Sturgeon Moon 2019

HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY IN ALL ITS GLORY! We call to you now to thank you for all you have provided us, from the most exquisite jubilation to the hardest lessons that need to be learned! We may not understand the underlying value of the lesson being taught at the time but we figure it out soon enough! One of the lessons we are currently learning is that you really can’t take anything for granted because if we do we may find that what we rely on simply to exist may not be there tomorrow! The Human Race is capable of great progress but it is also capable of great destruction! Look no further for proof of this than our heavy reliance on technology. This is not to say that technology in and of itself is a bad thing, it IS saying that it CAN be a bad thing when it becomes so overused that it is literally taking the place of human beings!

When the Human Race was reborn millennia ago, we had to rely on our own intellect, our wits and our ability to reason and think rationally. Because of this we were mentally sharp and able to overcome most obstacles as we were able to compromise when necessary to ensure that everyone had what they needed to survive. This does not mean that there were no conflicts or wars, of course there were, but the amount of damage done was much less than what we have seen in the last few centuries and significantly less than we have seen in the last 100 years! Why is this? Because there is a world of difference between a canon and an H-Bomb, Scud Missile, Underwater Mine or Nuclear Warhead! It never ceases to amaze me that most of the technology that man has come up with since the Flood is nothing short of a myriad of ways to destroy itself and everything around it!

A few centuries ago when a person or group went fishing all they had were rods, reels and nets to catch what was available so there was little chance of snaring something larger such as a dolphin just because you cast your net and mindlessly dragged in whatever was caught in it. Today we have tuna trawlers that go to deeper waters cast their nets and drag back any and all manner of marine life including dolphins and octopi among others. What’s worse is when these trawlers actually go looking for dolphins, sharks, whales and such because the Humans blood lust is such that even though many breeds of these being are endangered and in a lot of cases mammals such whales are ONLY killed for their blubber or bones, they keep hunting them down! I wonder what they will do when they’ve successfully killed off the last whale? Speaking of killing animals for their parts – the ivory trade has been responsible for the slaughtering of many elephants for their tusks! It was bad enough in the beginning when the firepower of the human was minimal, but now with the introduction of technology such as elephant guns, they can kill many more in a shorter time period than before!

Why do I bring all of this up? Because Ignorant selfish self-righteous and pretentious people will be the absolute end of the human race but not before several MORE species are long killed off by them! Those who value ONLY human life and cast everything including the natural world to the wayside stating that "the planet was here long before we were and will be here long after we are gone" as an excuse to continue their murderous and destructive agenda across the globe will find that in the end the ONLY thing they really accomplished was signing their own death certificates!

NINHURSAG did not create the Earth so that we could dishonor her and proceed to abuse and slaughter all of her other children!

ENKI did not put his neck and position in the Grand Assembly on the line so that we could turn around and spit in his face!

There is a way to counter this and it revolves around humans waking up and remembering that they are part of the Hoop of Life, not above it or below it but right in the round with everything else! One way to do this is to take a break from the hustle and bustle of city life and take a walk through the woods. Sit down. Listen to the birds sing. Watch the deer graze. Listen to the sound of the Wind rustling through the trees and for a few minutes forget about modern technology and hear the song of the Ancient technology that enabled us to get this far! Forget about things having price tags attached to them and remember the most valuable things in life are in fact priceless and once they are gone all the synthesized replacements will never hold a candle to the real thing! The sun in the sky, the air we breathe, the earth we walk. All these things are treasures beyond any and all fiduciary measure!

In a few days I myself will be partaking on an excursion back to nature in the White Mountains, I will be venturing off with a couple friends to the middle of nowhere in the woods to recharge my Spiritual batteries! I will kick off my shoes and let my feet sink deep into the unspoiled Earth and submerge in the water that is Bear Basin. And yes it is called that because there are in fact bears in the area as well as deer, moose, birds of all kinds and most likely every insect one can expect to be that deep in the woods! These so called “pests” are the reason why even though it is imperative to stay in tune with nature, that one does so responsibly by taking all the necessary precautions against insects such as ticks (Lyme disease) and mosquitoes (West Nile, Triple E) as these are souvenirs no one wants to take home with them!

One of the most invigorating things about being in the middle of nowhere, completely unplugged from ALL technology is that you remember that you don’t need bright flashy lights and loud noises to be entertained, all you have to do is look up at the night sky and see that never-ending trail of starlight and if you’re lucky you can look into the wood or around the water and see a trail of blinking lights all around you down below as well courtesy of natures “Flash Dancers” aka Lighting Bugs! I used to love catching them in jars, just had to remember to poke holes into the lid so they didn’t suffocate! The best thing about reconnecting with nature is that you get a deeper appreciation for the gifts that were given to us to help us survive and you realize that all of mans modern technology doesn’t help anything or anyone BUT man and in the grand scheme of things, this is a system doom to collapse!

Why is this? Because the one thing that humans seem to keep forgetting is that all their computer, cell phone, game consoles, airplanes, boats, weapons, water bottles, oil, gas etc are dependent on things found in the Earth! While used sparingly and for the right reasons, these components can last for centuries, however, the way that things are being done now the methods being employed to obtain these items are actually causing a LOT more harm than they are helping and the ones responsible are of course in complete denial about it! Unfortunately for them they can’t argue with statistics and actual proof of the damage that is being done through fracking fault lines and cutting down the forests, killing anyone who gets in their way! Recently the newly elected President of Brazil enabled the slaughter of not one but THREE Elders of an Amazonian Tribe because they refused to just let oil and gas companies come in and ravage the Rainforest! Apparently the President needs to go take an Earth Science course to get a clue that if he allows the Rainforest to be dismantled it will NOT just be those uncontacted Tribes who are displaced or effected! He needs to learn how nature works and that by cutting down the trees what he’s really doing is cinching the noose around EVERYONE’S – his included – neck!

Why do I bring this up? Because the responsibility is ALL of ours collectively as one Human Race, so many fancy themselves as superior to most if not all other species and yet we are the ONLY species that needs to rely on death to continue life. What do I mean by that? Every time the side of a mountain is strip-mined the earth gets weakened and is susceptible to land slides. Every time we clear the forest for land development we render whatever wildlife that lived there homeless and many times this is resolved by people shooting whatever shows up in their new backyard which used to be that animals front yard! We are the only species that hunts down other animals, not to eat the meat or utilize the carcass in any way but JUST to kill it! Trophy Hunters make me sick! If we are so superior to everything else then why is it we are the ONLY species on the planet that has become so far removed from nature and the spiritual that we actually think we can control it and get mad when we realize once again that isn’t the case?

The answer is because we are NOT superior and the only thing that keeps us tripping down this rocky path is our own egos! But I wonder what will we do when we’ve mined the last ore? When we’ve cut down the last tree? When we’ve completely destroyed the water? When we’ve rendered the air too toxic to breathe? When we have poisoned the soil and nothing can grow? Will the human race take a page out of the Hollywood handbook and start creating actual Terminators? I have a feeling this may in fact already be happening, I’m not kidding! Look no further for proof of this than the fact that almost EVERYTHING is online or digital in one form or another! Our currency is on the brink of collapse with the introduction of digital currency! I don’t like money myself, too many are willing to kill and die for it, but I do NOT trust digital currency at all mainly because it would be all too easy for a hacker to drain your account or shut down wherever it was being stored altogether and without a paper trail, you can’t prove how much you actually had in the bank! Don’t say it won’t happen, cyber crimes such as identity theft are a huge problem even with all these alleged security measures in place!

Imagine knowing who you are but being unable to prove it? Now imagine knowing who you are but having someone with a grudge erase your identity and replace it with the dossier of a repeat offender! Sounds like a movie doesn’t it? Unfortunately this is where we are headed with the way things are going, robots replacing human workers putting that many more out of the job and as the desperation to make ends meet increases so will the depths they will sink to to make it happen! If you don’t think so take for example 2 people, one robs a store because they have a habit to feed and the other robs the store because their bills are mounting and their kids need food and clothing or they need to make rent. One is a criminal, the other is committing what is known as a survival crime meaning they wouldn’t have done it if not for having been put out of work because their former employer wanted to save a couple bucks! It is truly reprehensible what we are willing to do to one another for the sake of nothing more than our own selfish gain but this is precisely how disconnected from each other we have become! As disconnected as we are from each other, we are even more disconnected from the Spiritual aspects of existence! It is the Spirit that keeps things going even when it seems all hope is gone, we have seen this time and again! We must reconnect to the Spirit, to the Earth and to each other if we have any chance of a viable future!

I still hold out hope that this can be achieved if we all really want it to be! The first thing we have to do is let go of our ego and stop allowing it to call the shots in every situation especially when we know that someone else’s needs supersedes our own! The second thing we need to do is realize that ALL life has value – even the animals we eat to survive which is why they deserved to be shown a life of comfort and appreciation leading up to the time when their life will be taken and their body processed for the sake of our survival. We do not see this occurring in what are known as “factory farms” because these places don’t care about the animals living conditions, only how fast they can fatten them up and slaughter them! This very practice is an affront to Ninhursag who provided us with these animals who should be shown all the gratitude we can muster given what is to become of them!

Now is the time of the Full Sturgeon Moon so named because the Tribes around the Great Lakes know that it is this time of the year when the Sturgeon will be at their most active and plentiful! When they go fishing they go with humble hearts and thankful Spirits that they are provided this sustenance in which to survive upon, especially during the harsh winter months when the Lakes freeze and there are no fish to catch until Spring! I wish I could say that everyone was so appreciative, especially those who ‘go fishing’ at their nearest supermarket! It never ceases to amaze me that those who have it the easiest are more often than not the least gratified and I honestly think it is that disconnection from the process of actually going out and hunting for their food that is the cause. That and all the chemicals that are found in our meat anymore!

While it is not overly realistic for everyone to go hunting every time, imagine how much healthier people would be from consuming a fresh kill rather than a ammonia processed, oil based plastic and Styrofoam packaged bag of poison? Well this may also not be true for much longer at the rate the Humans are going with their chemical compounds being sprayed all over from crop dusters high up and being blown every which way with the wind! These chemicals are killing off by the MILLIONS some of natures hardest workers – the bees! These tiny pollinating powerhouses land on a flower or blade of grass and they get the toxins on their feet or even breathe it in while in flight and that is the end of them! What those who spray this lethal concoction fail to understand is that without the bees to pollinate the same crops they are spraying this stuff on, those same crops are NOT going to be as healthy due not only to the lack of pollen but also the introduction of the very poison meant to keep aphids away!

AVE NINHURSAG! We know that you created everything on Earth for a reason, because each and every life form has a place in the Circle that enables all forms to live, hunt, consume and reproduce thus continuing the cycle. That of course is not the only thing that is done, whether Humans admit it or not, we are not the only ones who value their freedom! Have you ever seen a herd of horses run across an open Plain? Have you ever seen how they are generally treated at a racetrack ESPECIALLY if they LOSE the race? You will notice the difference in just how lively vs lethargic they are, whether they are apprehensive or passive when there are other Humans around. This is because on the Plain they have the whole world to run around and natural grasses to feed on whereas in a lot of horseracing they are pumped full of steroids and antibiotics and beaten or have ping pong balls shoved in their nostrils that ultimately suffocate them to death by some vile Human who just decided they no longer served a purpose! This is not to say ALL jockeys are this callous and cruel, but even ONE is one too many! We must remember that it is not for us to determine that any being should be put to death especially if there is nothing actually wrong with them! This includes wildlife such as foxes, bears, bobcats, cougars, coyotes etc! Let us make our Great Mother proud and show her by example that we truly are grateful for the plethora of different life forms she has bestowed upon this Earth!

AVE ENKI! We know that your Sweet Waters are the lifeblood of the planet which is why people NEED to be more aware of just how compromised they have made the waters the world over! Have you ever sat at a lakeside and watched the fish swim? Conversely, have you ever sat at a doctor’s office and watched the fish swim in the tank? You may have noticed that the fish in the lake are a lot more active than the fish in the tank or even at the aquarium and why? Because the fish in the lake are NOT being ogled at or manhandled or having the glass of their tank banged on by ignorant Humans! They also have a lot more room to move around not to mention everything around them is natural and NOT synthetic! Same thing for the animals in the zoo and in the circus! The only benefit that fish in the tank or aquarium have is that their water may be a bit cleaner than that of the wild fish and that is just sickening! It must anger Enki to see his Waters being so carelessly polluted by toxic waste, discarded medications and all manner of trash! Let us make our Father Enki proud and show him that we do value the Water as it is the source of ALL Life Medicine! MNI KIN WICONI!

This holding any life form in captivity also makes me wonder how Humans would feel if they were out enjoying life then suddenly they were shot with a tranquilizer dart or have a net thrown over them then are dragged away and stuck in cages to be gawked at by strangers in an environment they’ve never been in before! Yes one could make the argument for Human trafficking in this context and the sickest thing about that is that it is STILL the Humans who are committing these contemptible acts against their own species! Truly it must enrage our Mother and Father to see these horrific crimes against Humanity take place! This is amplified exponentially when it involves children of ANY age! There are some seriously depraved members of our Human race! That is why if anyone sees something that doesn’t seem right that it is best to alert the authorities, it is ALWAYS better to do so and be wrong than do NOTHING and be right enabling another abuser to get away with their crime!

Coming full circle with this sermon I leave everyone with this bit of advice; technology CAN be very beneficial; it keeps us connected across the globe, it enables farmers to cultivate, plant and reap crops that much faster, it also has done wonders with microsurgery but it can also be very detrimental when we lose sight of what matter matters most (LIFE) and begin to substitute it with any number and manner of “toys” and other unnatural and synthetic items that do severe damage to the ecosystem and all life forms that dwell therein! We must remember that if we cut down the trees, we are cutting off our air, if we pave over the Earth we are interfering with its electro-magnetic field! We cannot perform any Spell or Ritual work if the Energies we rely on to carry them are disrupted! Look no further for proof of this than how Religious and Spiritual ceremonies were conducted in the Ancient World when they didn’t have all this pollution and interference to contend with when they gathered at the Temple! Remember they may not have had all our “modern conveniences” but what they DID have on a Spiritual level was FAR superior to anything anyone could manufacture in a lab and it showed in their day to day and night to night life!

As always I am including a prayer and a song that has meant a GREAT deal to me for YEARS and it touches on everything that was discussed in this sermon! In fact the movie (“Legend 1986”) that it is taken from is a PERFECT example of human carelessness and self-entitlement throwing everything off kilter and just how effective the unity of the Humans and the Fae Folk is when we put aside our pretenses and do what must be done for the sake of Multiversal Balance!

I would also like to point out that even though the name of the song and the chorus state “Loved By The Sun” that it is NOT just the Sun that keeps things in Balance, the Moon plays an equally important role in the continuation of the cycle of Life and should be respected accordingly!

“Step outside, breathe in Natures Spirit,

Feel yourself becoming one with it!

Take a step, feel your feet sink into the Earth,

Close your eyes and feel your Soul’s rebirth!

Walk into the Water, feel it embrace your being,

Slowly submerge while you hear the birds singing!

Let go of the physical world and let your Spirit fly,

Let nothing hold you back as you soar across the sky!

Look up at the Stars how they paint a trail beyond the Moon,

Sense your inner self rising coming out of your cocoon!

There are things in this world which are never touched or seen,

The most important things in life are the ones that make us serene!

Nature’s beauty is always a sight that leaves viewers humble,

We must take great care to make sure that the image doesn’t crumble!

Water is Life, Air is Life, Earth is Life, Fire is Life, Spirit is the Guide,

So don’t rely only on what you are looking at and open your Third Eye!

There is so much more to see than that what is physically entailed,

When you let your Heart be your leader you will see beyond the Veil!

So forget what they dictate to you is worthwhile don’t let them plant that seed,

And return to Mother Nature, the one who always knows what we need!

-Nemesis Nexus (‘Reconnection’)”

“I have seen the mystics play there,

Once or twice well I knew they had a reason!

Enchantment plays it's cards all right

Hand in hand with the workings of the seasons!

Legends can be now and forever,

Teaching us to love for goodness sake!

Legends can be now and forever,

Loved by the sun, loved by the sun!

Loved

Two and two go so close together,

Whether there is hope that is torn apart!

In the words of all that's singing,

Hand in hand the beginning is at the start!

Legends can be now and forever,

Teaching us to reach for goodness sake!

Legends can be now and forever,

Loved by the sun!

Loved

Who sings of all of love's eternity?

Whose shines so bright,

In all the songs of love's unending spells…?

Only lightning strikes all that's evil,

Teaching us to love for goodness sake!

Hear the music of love eternal,

Teaching us to reach for goodness sake!

Legends can be now and forever,

Teaching us to love for goodness sake!

Sweet songs of youth, the wise, the meeting of all wisdom

To believe in the good in man

-Tangerine Dream f/Jon Anderson (“Loved By The Sun/Legend 1986”)

ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA!

MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INSENCE!

Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una!

Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In NINHURSAG'S Nomen Nos Fides! AVE NINHURSAG!

(We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER!

Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In NINHURSAG'S Name We Trust! HAIL NINHURSAG!)

AVÉ IGIGGI!

AVÉ ANUNNA!

AVÉ DRACONIS!

HAIL THE GREAT SERPENT!

HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY!

HPS Meg "Nemesis Nexus" Prentiss

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