#and I had NEVER experienced it in school because when I spoke people listened to me. because they thought I was smart

[sevicia]

And going to uni as a "girl" has been genuinely kind of a shock to me because the particular brand of misogyny at my school from kinder to high was of the "girls must be proper and boys must protect them" kind not the "women are stupid and vapid" kind. You know? Often when I'd speak to a guy about anything related to class he'd look at me in this very strange way that I can only interpret as "this girl has NO idea what she's talking about. she's so stupid" and no I don't think I'm exaggerating. I went into a STEM field.

[sexydoffyman]

Hi, could I request a cod x male reader specifically one with an insecure Alejandro who thinks his boyfriend might be cheating on him with another colleague of his. I love the possessiveness trope lol

CHEATING?

navigation

genre: angst

characters: Alejandro Vargas

A/N: Lotta regret goin on here🐳

He is jealous, very jealous. He used to be a fuckboy, and he definitely had more than one girlfriend in the past. But with his choice of women, he got cheated on a lot. That is where his insecurity began to grow.

He thought about it and came to the conclusion that he better try it with a dude. And again, now, due to his personality, he got cheated on multiple times. He was frustrated and tired. He wanted to give up on dating anyone.

That was until he met you. You were different because of one thing. He approached the other people. You were the one to approach him. You hung out, had fun, and eventually, you got together. But this time, Alejandro really fell in love. With the other ones, he had them to have the relationship status. He finally understood what it meant to love somebody.

And with his came a little problem. His insecurity really started to shine through. He was scared. Scared you'd find someone better. All it took was your friend to look at you suggestively.

He was fuming. As soon as you got home, he started breaking shit. You tried to calm him down. You wanted to talk to him about it normally. He started accusing you, "Why would you do this to me?" "Alejandro, you really need to sit down and chill out for a while."

He started yelling at you. You tried defending yourself by yelling back. Unfortunately for you, he was the bigger one, so he was able to corner you rather quickly. His hand gestures made you flinch. He was always really expressive with his body language, but you never experienced this.

"Just calm down for a while. Nothing happened!" "WHACK"

Your world went quiet for a while as you fell to the ground. He just kept on yelling, not having a care in the world that you had a bloody nose. He really caught you off guard. You finally caught your breath. Instead of fighting him, you just let him yell it out.

When he was done with his yelling, you finally spoke. "She's a lesbian." A long silence filled the room. "We went to school together, and we used to make sexual jokes all the time." You got up and looked him in the eyes. "You are not the man who I fell in love with." Those words stabbed him like little daggers.

"Wait!" He tried to stop you as you began walking to your shared bedroom. You stopped in your tracks to hear him out. "I'm sorry for accusing you. I should've listened to you." Anger filled your bones, and with one fast move, you punched him in the jaw.

It didn't really phase him. He just looked at you in surprise. When you actually faced him, he saw how angry you were. And the blood on your face that was now staining your shirt. "You didn't even bother to apologise for this." His face showed his horrified expression.

He really didn't want to lose you. He dropped to his knees and begged you to stay. You pushed him away with your leg. It was more of a kick than a push. You were livid. "You first accused me of being unloyal, then you hurt me, and now, instead of saying you didn't want to hurt me, you said you didn't want to lose me."

You sat down and cried. "I thought I found the one." He looked at you as if he wanted to give you all the love in the world, but you wouldn't let him. Tears started forming in his own eyes. "Let me make this up to you."

You ignored him and stood up to get your things. He got up and grabbed your hand "Please!" You slapped his hand away. "I don't want to be with someone as ignorant as you."

All he wanted was to not lose you, but because of his actions, he did exactly the opposite. He fucked up.

[barefoothighlander]

Simon Riley x Fem reader

Simon and the reader are childhood best friends that later became boyfriend and girlfriend for 9 years.

And before Simon’s mom died the reader ask her for her blessing to marry her son one day and as proof they recorded the conversation and showed it to Simon.

Reader proposing to Simon on Christmas in front of his teammates and reader asked Price if she could his blessings to marry Simon (because Price is like a father to Simon and the reader wanted ask both his mom and Price for their blessings to marry Simon).

And Simon says “yes” trying to keep himself from crying in front of everyone.

Sorry if this is a little confusing I was excited while writing this so ya.

why am I crying🤠

warnings: mention of death and violence, gn pronouns

You had known him your entire life, every up and down the two of you had, you experienced it together, if you asked him when he knew he loved you he'd say from the moment he saw you shove some kid down on the football pitch for bullying some smaller kid. He knew then and there that he loved you, how protective you were, like second nature to defend people, it was something he never knew he needed.

He was too shy to approach you in grade school, resorting to quietly sitting beside you in class, stealing glances at you while you read or worked on your writing, silently loving you for weeks before you spoke to him. Truth be told you couldn't remember what you said to him the first day, but he knew, he remembered every word that you said, as mundane as it was, you had asked him for the answer to one of the questions on your test, whispering to him in the middle of the room, it took him a moment to respond, awkwardly staring at you for a minute before responding, he didn't even know the answer, just giving you one in hopes of having a conversation, his heart thumping in his chest as your eyes stared back at him.

Your friendship grew after that, inviting him to play games on the school field, shifting your desk closer to his in class so you could crack jokes, he was always so observant, making small comments about people that made you giggle, he was kind. At first you included him out of pity, he didn't have many friends in school, usually seen walking around by himself, lurking by walls, but after a few days of getting to know him you became quick friends, always by each other side, you defended him to other kids who would pick on him, he was so terrified of everything.

You never saw his home, he always made an excuse about having family over or doing renovations that would keep you from meeting his family, but you happily hung around your own house or the park, just glad to spend time with him.

By the time the two of you reached high school Simon had grown exponentially, he was taller than most of the school, growing into his features he became good-looking, you always joked with him about girls, there were a select few that threw themselves at him but he never entertained them.

He'd watch you go through relationships, always supportive of your partners, trying to be unbias, but always there when they ended poorly, comforting you and giving you a shoulder to cry on.

Looking back you can't understand how you didn't see it the whole time, the way he looked at you like you hung the moon, always dropping what he was doing to drive to you no matter the hour, listening four hours when you'd talk about trivial things, your love for him was always there, looming in your chest.

It all surfaced one night during a party when your group was playing truth or dare, people always assumed that you and Simon were a couple and when they found out you weren't they had dared you to kiss, you thought nothing of it a small act of platonic love between two friends, but to Simon it was everything he wanted to do but couldn't, the years he spent dreaming about holding you, telling you how he felt.

It was like everything fell into place when your lips touched, your skin igniting under his kiss, your faces close enough that you could make out every freckle on his skin, you pulled back quickly from the kiss, effectively bruising Simon's ego, the few days after were awkward, an air of tension between the two of you as you sat with the new feeling.

Everything hit a tipping point when you showed up to his house for the first time, standing outside his door building up the courage to knock before he breezed through the front door, slamming it behind him. The noise made you flinch, you had never seen him angry, storming down the driveway with his fists clenched as you stood in the cool air, his eyes brimmed with tears as he turned to face you.

"What are you doing here?'

Your eyes scan his face, a red welt on the side of his cheek as you close the gap between the two of you, he flinched as your hand moved to hold his cheek, your thumb sweeping over the wound.

"Who did this?" Your voice is laced with worry, he closes his eyes, his hand moving to cover yours, pulling it from his cheek.

"Can we go?"

You nod, the two of you moving toward your car, sitting in silence as you drive to a small lookout point. You drum your fingers against the wheel as you try to find your words, Simon's eyes glued to the window as he watches the city lights.

"I have to say something, and you don't need to respond, I just, I need to tell you"

He turns to you, "Is everything okay?"

You shake your head, a light chuckle coming from your chest, "I've been cruel"

"What do you mean"

"I've forced you to watch me be with other people when I've loved you the whole time" The words hollow your chest, you wait for him to say anything, to give you any sort of sign but he just stares at you, you turn to face away from him, your eyes closed in defeat before his hands cup your cheeks, leaning across the seat to kiss you, his tears wet your cheeks, breathing you in as your lips meet, he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, your hands holding his against your face as you smile, your cheeks warm.

You spent almost every day after that together, graduating side by side and moving into adulthood together, it broke your heart to see him leave for his first deployment, knowing you wouldn't be seeing him for months after only having each other for a little while. You grew closer with his mum while he was away, trying your best to keep her safe as Simon's dad grew sicker and his brother strayed from the straight and narrow path, loving SImon meant loving his family, and you did, you knew Tommy for almost as long as you knew Simon, watching him grow up, it hurt to see him fall into a life of drugs.

When Simon returned it was an event of mixed emotions, the joy of having him home combined with sadness of the state of his family, he did his best to help them, taking time off from the military to make sure they got better. Watching him play with his nephew warmed your heart, the idea of having your own family sparking in your head as you saw how happy he was.

The week before his next deployment you had gone to his mother, spending the day with her and asking for her blessing to marry Simon, you knew how much her approval meant to him, how closely he held his mother in his heart, she gave her blessing with tears in her eyes, wanting for Simon to finally be happy.

It shattered you to hear the news of his family's death, hitting you like it was your own family that had been killed, Simon disappeared for a while after that, he didn't tell you where he had gone, leaving you alone for months just praying he would return when he did he was different, colder, more distant, it took months to just see him smile but bit by bit you cracked away at his walls, his old self revealing to you.

You'd visit his family grave every week, bringing new flowers for their plots and just sitting together in silence, your hands holding him as he let out silent cries, you never pried about the subject and he never talked about it, understanding that some things were to be left untouched.

The two of you had moved closer to the base, living in a small cottage just outside the city, quiet enough that he could comfortably come home and rest, as he grew closer to the team so did you, inviting the 141 over for dinners every so often, visiting them during work to drop off lunch for Simon.

The idea of marriage had been set far back in your mind, Simons fear of losing his family looming heavily over your relationship, for years what you had was enough, coming home to each other almost every night, safe inside your own bubble, away from the dangers of war, he knew how much you loved him but you craved something more, an eternal vow to always be there for the other.

One night you had the team over, the guys outside with Simon on the deck while you were in the kitchen, listening to their laughing from the outside, you called Price over under the guise of a question about dinner. You explained the situation to him, asking for his blessing alongside Simon's mother.

"You're the closest he's ever had to a father John, It'd mean a lot of you approved"

He had to fight to contain his joy, pulling you into a tight hug and knocking the air from your chest, "Nothing would make me happier than to see Simon with you, I see the way he acts around you, you make him happy"

He smiles at you, your eyes falling back to Simon outside chatting with Soap,

"When are you gonna do it?"

"M'not sure, we've been together practically our whole lives, no time has felt right"

"Well make it soon, I want grandkids"

You laugh a little too loud at his words, the sound drawing attention from the team as you try to play it off.

It took a few months to work out all the logistics, deciding that you'd do it on Christmas while the team was over, it had become a tradition for them to gather at your home for a few hours during the day before they left for their own families.

The team was as close as Simon had come to a real family, swapping presents with each other, drinking too much eggnog and laughing for hours.

"Okay, Simons turn" You hand him a small box, the team hitting their knees in a makeshift drumroll as he opened it,

"A cassette?" He turns to you with his brows raised, "Haven't seen one of these in over a decade"

You try to contain your excitement, biting your lip to stop the smile from forming on your face, "Just, listen to it"

He stares at you for a moment, confusion written across his face as he puts the headphones in his ears, the team shares a confused look with each other as you turn to Price, dramatically crossing your fingers and shrugging your shoulders while he smiles.

You watch Simon's face drop as he plays the tape, the sound of his mother's voice ringing through his ears, his eyes stay glued to the floor, just listening. When the recording ends he looks up to you, tears pricking his eyes as you smile at him,

"What is this?"

You huff a breath, reaching for the box in his hands, pulling out a small box and fiddling with it in your hands,

"I asked for her blessing before she passed, I asked for your Captains months ago, I have loved you my entire life and it's not long enough, I want forever"

You struggle to not choke on your words as the team realizes what's happening, sharing a shocked expression as they watch quietly,

"I know you're scared, and I'm scared too, but we'll do it together, just like we always have, I'm asking to marry you if you'll have me"

Your hands open the box, a silver ring sitting in it as you present it to him, he swallows thickly, his throat dry as he extends a hand to take the box, his eyes scanning over the object before moving back to you. He doesn't say anything, just moves forward to kiss you, his hands cupping your cheeks the same way they did that first night, his forehead pressed to yours as your hands hold his.

"Is that a yes?" You laugh, your thumb stroking over his hand

"Forever is still not enough love''

He moves from his spot, rushing out of the room leaving you confused, you turn to Price with panic in your eyes, finding him smirking in his spot, his head nudging towards the hall as Simon runs back in. He kneels in front of you, taking your hand as he places a ring on it, your worry melting from your face as your eyes water,

"Beat me to it I guess" He laughs, you lean in and kiss him, your lips melting together as the sounds of the team cheering fill the room.

"God I love you"

"Forever" He smiles, his hands holding yours, Simon turns to Price who raises his glass in his direction, the action catching your eye,

"You knew?"

Price smiles as the two of you, his lips moving to mouth the word grandkids as you laugh, Simon's arms wrapping around your form to hold you to him.

"Shame we already sent out the Christmas cards huh" He laughs

[letters-from-dekarios]

[Roux is a human thief who worked for the Guild. He is cold and impersonal on the outside but very affectionate when he likes someone. He romanced Gale but didn't accept the proposal because he had his own stuff to figure out. The letter is written in a scratchy hand, with ink smears and crossed-out letters indicating that it was written rather hastily]

Dearest Gale,

I hope you're doing well. Professorship suits you, I think. I never got to go to school but in my entirely unbiased opinion you make an amazing teacher. I hope you can actually read this, since I know my writing isn't exactly up to snuff, but if you can't then I'm sure you'll spare my feelings somehow.

Baldur's Gate is as busy as ever, although being a hero certainly has its perks. It's weird- people buy me drinks and stuff, now. People know my name and they respect it. Important people want to talk to me, and want my help making decisions.

I don't know if I like it all the time.

Not to be bitter, but must of these nobles would've spit on me a year ago, and the only reason they'll listen to a street rat is because I saved their sorry arses. Oh well, at least I can help some people while I'm at it. Wyll says hello, by the way, but he already writes to you enough, so I'm sure you know that.

I do wonder about your tower, sometimes. Everything you told me made it seem apart from the world, in some pocket of peace that all the chaos couldn't touch. I'd welcome some peace, I think.

I spent my whole life being a sticky-fingered kid, stealing to get by, but you made me feel like more than that. You treated me like a person- a person that mattered.

I'm not good at letters. I know I've been dancing around it for a while, and it only took me so long to write because I was putting it off. I'm sorry about that. But... I still love you. That never went away. I miss having you tell me about anything and everything and nothing at all. I miss having someone hold my hand.

I won't say that I regret my decision- because that would be a lie and I'm trying not to lie so much these days. I needed a little while to figure out who I am what I want.

And... Well, what I want is you. I need you. I need peace. I need to stay in one place, for a while. I understand if our leaving left a sour taste in your mouth. If you want nothing to do with me I won't push you. But if you do want me... Well, I don't own much in the way of material possessions. It wouldn't be that hard to move to Waterdeep.

-Yours, Roux

Dearest Roux,

I am glad to hear from you! It has been awfully too long since we last spoke. At times, I find myself missing the presence you held when we’d camp together. Though I do prefer not having a tadpole to worry of.

Blackstaff is treating me rather well! Though that is no surprise to even the most knowledgeable man. I have taken a quick liking to my work and as most would say, “fit right in”. I walk the halls with the reminder of my history here, and it brings me comfort to remember that I was once much like the very students I teach today. This is about the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever experienced, second only to saving Faerûn.

Baldur’s Gate hasn’t known an ounce of calm peace in decades. But, regardless, they try and feign normalcy after an event as huge as we had conquered. Being a “hero” of sorts is never easy to get used to. I feel as though one can only continue chasing that feeling of “more” as though you must continue with your acts of service to consider yourself worthy of the praise being received.

Nobles spit on anyone they consider lower than they. They’ll even spit on other nobles if given the chance. The opinions they hold in the grand scheme of things should, in all reality, mean nothing. But I do understand the point you draw. It’s an odd experience to have people who’d kill you now kill for you. One does not simply “adjust” to that.

Your words bring a sadness to my heart. The backgrounds of us all were much to be contested with. Look at the likes of Astarion, or Karlach, for example. You, out of all of us, certainly mattered. Without you, I’m sure the rest of us would have either died or been sent back to the hells we came from. I’m sure I would’ve exploded in the midst of the Weave and my memory would’ve long faded without you. I couldn’t be more grateful for your existence and your kindness.

Roux… I have not the words I need to reply to you. What I can say, however, is this; I never stopped loving you. Through it all, I still find myself aching for your presence beside me. I am not mad at you for leaving, I would be a selfish bastard to be angry with you for that. And, quite frankly, I’ve tried to swear off being a selfish bastard after my last consequences.

I cannot blame you for needing time. For needing space. After saving all of Faerûn, it’s only reasonable to need time to understand where you’re at and who you’ve become. It is not within my rights to hold any kind of a grudge after all you’ve done for me. I would wait decades for you, Roux. I would curse the gods for immortality if it meant I’d have you at the end of it all. I would devote my dying breath to your highest altar just to have a glimpse of what could have been.

Perhaps that is idiotic of me. Perhaps you will be thinking I shouldn’t hold onto such a thing for that long. I cannot deny the inclinations of my heart, I never have been able to do that. I cannot tie my heart to yours and cut it off so easily. I am not capable of such an act.

Whatever you have to give, whatever you want to give, all of it will be more than enough. Your association at my side is more than I could ever need in this lifetime and the next. If I am to be reincarnated after death, I shall find you then too. You are all I have ever wanted and all I will ever desire. With you, my breath catches and my heart swells with joy. I have never met a person so comfortable to be around.

You, Roux, will always have a space within my home, my mind, and most especially my heart. Whatever you need, whatever your desire, I shall fulfill it to the best of my ability. However you are, however you come, I will take you in. You are most here in Waterdeep.

And, if it happens to sweeten the deal, Tara misses you, too. My mother has even offered to bake some sweets for your arrival if you do so choose to return here.

I would be more than happy to have you here, Roux. I am not a man who tends to lie on matters of such grave importance, you know that. Write me when you have started your journey to Waterdeep, if you are still interested in coming here, that way I have some time to prepare for your arrival.

Yours in every lifetime,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂��𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[literallyluznoceda]

It is literally only a day left before the owl house ends so I am gonna talk about how much this show means to me (and how I am gonna be a wreck when it ends)

I found and started this show back when them’s the breaks kid came out and I was 14 and just not doing great mentally I just came to the realisation that I was lesbian ( aroace I knew for a while) and I was also dealing gifted kid burnout and just very lost after I came back to school and then I see Luz a black and queer neurodivergent protagonist and it made me feel better about myself and I still think Luz is one the best neurodivergent rep that exists out there I haven’t seen a character who spoke to me this much hence the username when my mental health was in shambles it was the only thing getting me through the week I have never experienced gravity falls when it aired so this show was the closest I would get that.I met amazing people because of this show I got an adhd diagnosis because of this show I excepted my queerness because of this show and now I have my own little hexside squad and truely no matter how terrible my mental health was when season 2 was airing it was truely my “you just had to be there moments” nothing will ever compare to me piecing together the wittabane lore and talking about to literally anyone who would listen or leading the Evelyn’s name or the all I wanted was to be understood moment I just wanna say thank you Dana thank you anyone who contributed to this amazing show that meant so much to me and so many other people.

[hopewritcs]

hopper x reader #47?🙏🏼

“EPIPHANY MOMENTS.”

pairing: jim hopper x f!reader

song: epiphany.

notes: i say a “drabble” except i wind up with something longer than 1k words because the song simply demanded to be listened to and gave me such a muse for a longer story... i am so sorry ( seriously? but also i am not ). please enjoy. set pre & post s4 timeline -- that will make sense when you read. 

word count: 1.5k

part of spotify wrapped drabble night : accepting !

Had you been away from home for so long that you didn’t recognize Hawkins any longer? Or was it just that the town was absolutely destroyed that there was no way to really see the Hawkins that you had known. The past twenty-four hours were some of the worst you had experienced. 

While getting phone calls late at night were not unusual, you worked in a hospital--you weren’t a nurse or a doctor or even a technician like you had planned so many years ago in school--just a secretary for one of the medical suites open twenty-four seven, and your hours ranged so some nights you worked the overnight shift. 

It had been one of those nights when the phone rang in the office and you picked it up, like you would normally, but before you could even say who you were the words came flowing out of the other end on top of each other like there were several people on the line. 

“When was the last time you heard from your parents?” 

“Is there a spare room open? Turn on a tv to any of the news stations!”

“I think you need to get back to...”

“What about the guy?” Followed by a couple of shushes. 

“She said it would be a cold day in hell before she went back.”

“Well if...”

“Just turn on the news!” 

You didn’t know what they were talking about at all. When was the last time you’d spoken with your family back in Hawkins? You looked at a clock and realized you barely remembered the time. 

The last time you were in Hawkins was in 1983, and Will Byers had just been found. 

Hawkins 1983. 

It was home, and you were back to keep everything simple while you were in medical school -- the dream was to be a doctor someday. Everyone had known that while you were growing up in Hawkins, a couple of years behind Jim & Joyce in school but still friends with them. You’d been working as an EMT, spending a lot of time with the police chief now that you were back in town. 

He was not the same man you knew growing up. Then again, you weren’t the same person you were back then either. 

Maybe that was how you’d wound up in this back and forth with him, on and off. In a constant state of not knowing exactly where you stood with him. On reflection when you look back now you know you could have, should have talked about it--but you just didn’t. 

It was fine at the time, because you were so busy with work both of you that neither of you seemed to care about the relationship or the feelings under the surface. 

But, you couldn’t keep that buried forever. 

As the time went on, with Will being missing, it was hard to balance life in the small town as well as work and school and your feelings. Something had to go. 

Despite everything, it was your studies that suffered the most, in your attempts to help Joyce get through everything -- but you never told anybody that. 

Once Will was found, you moved away from Hawkins hoping to get away from everything that was a distraction. 

That included Jim, or so you thought.

Chicago, 1984. 

“Hey, newbie, there’s a phone call for you on line 2.” One of the nurses called over her shoulder as she put paperwork down on the counter in front of you. “He sounds handsome.” 

You had only been working at the hospital for six months at the time, so the nickname of newbie was kind of old. But it was said with affection with the nurse who spoke to you just then, not like some of the others who regarded you--a med school drop out, who was working the night shifts as a secretary while she worked her way through nursing school--as little more than a glorified paper weight. “If it’s the guy down in transport, tell him I’m ordering out for my break.” 

But she hadn’t left where she stood, tapping on the paperwork she had dropped off for you to sort through and looked impatient for you to answer the call yourself, “Come on, just answer it. I swear it’s not the guy down in transport. He says he knows you from home.” 

You looked up from what you were doing and paused at that, there weren’t many people who you had even given the information of your job from back home -- family, Joyce and her sons. Panic flashed in your eyes as you picked up the phone and the flashing number when you answered with your name and a rushed, “Who is this?” 

“Hopper,” came the quick reply of the gruff voice on the other end. You could picture him, probably with a cigarette in his mouth or fumbling with the case on his desk or whatever table he was near. “It’s Jim.” 

You have a lot of questions, but all you can manage to get out is a, “Hi.” 

“Hey.” he said back, and there’s a long silence, but you could hear him breathing. “I got a couple of questions about, uh, kids.”

“Wouldn’t Joyce be better to ask these things? She, y’know, has two, Jim.” 

“She’ll ask a lot of questions.” 

“I can’t promise I won’t ask any questions.” 

His laugh took you by surprise. You’re not sure the last time you heard it, and the smile that came on your own face because of it was just so natural. 

Damn it, you missed him. 

“I don’t know if I can answer all of your questions.” Jim said back after a moment. 

“Ditto.” you let you a small laugh of your own. “But I’m at work now, can I give you a call some other time? Is your number still the same?”

“Nothing’s changed, Y/N.” 

And there was so much more to that statement than either of you were ready to admit at the time. 

“I’ll call you in the morning. Goodnight, Jim.” 

After you hung the phone up it was like you remembered the world was around you. The nurse who had told you about the phone call was still standing by you and looked at you when the phone was hung up and was practically giddy with excitement. “Told you it wasn’t the guy from transport. But who was he?”

You held out your hand and looked at her, “Just give me the paperwork and let me work. Maybe I’ll tell you about him on my break later.”

It was the beginning of talking for the two of you. Just about anything and everything. You didn’t realize how much you had missed him, and pulling into the town you called home for so long made you think of it all. 

The summer of 1985 had been the culmination of a lot for you. You finally finished nursing school -- but had to make a decision between moving farther away from home to a place where you didn’t know one in an attempt to find a job, or keep the job you had and get a raise with the hopes of possibly getting a better position in the future. And, you were still talking to Jim every day, it was...surprisingly nice -- he continued to mention his daughter Jane. 

You were making plans to even go back to Hawkins sometime after the graduation from your class, after fourth of July craziness. 

Pulling into the familiar driveway of the Hopper house it was hard to think that you had planned to be here nearly a year ago and never managed to make it back. 

You thought he had died. You had lived with that feeling, that grief and those emotions for so long, and then the news station your old coworkers had called you earlier was showing him ( and sure, everyone else ) and it was like your heart stopped. 

It was like you had been pulled to Hawkins because you needed to be there. Needed to know what was going on and what to do. Had to be there. 

You’d wasted enough time without Jim Hopper, and having lost him once, you’d be damned if you were going to lose him again. 

When you pulled up, you could see that he was on the porch, almost like he’d been expecting you despite the fact that you hadn’t called anyone. Hell, you’d barely made it until the end of your shift and you were still in scrubs when you got out of the car and looked at him from a distance, shielding your eyed from the sun in the distance. 

The first time in three years seeing him, and he looked entirely different and altogether like the same man you knew. 

You wondered if he was thinking the same thing about you. 

With a half step away from the car, a move mimicked by Hopper as he walked down the porch of his home, you called out to him, “I don’t know what the hell you’ve gotten yourself and this town into Jim, but this time I’m going to stick around and help you out.” 

That was a promise. 

[hoopthereitisnt]

I love posting into the void on here, so here’s my void feeling for the day.

I am a quarter Filipino, but looking back at how I was raised and by whom, I might as well be full blooded. I live and breathe my culture in everything I do, to how I eat, how I express myself, down to the way I point. I have never not felt connected to how I was raised and the values that my family instilled in me.

But I feel outcasted, and I always have. I can’t relate to the societal heaviness that comes with being a person of color, and I’ve actively seen the harm my loved ones have had to endure. I’ve only ever dealt with small comments from people saying I seem “exotic” or that there’s just “something about you where you seem white but you kinda aren’t”. It really does take a toll on me. Especially since on the other side, my family gave me shit for being white. I was told on many occasions that I wasn’t Filipino, because of the color of my skin. I couldn’t win.

It took me being 24, and actively looking at my own features to realize that I do show my heritage on my face. But even if I didn’t, I would still beam with the amount of pride and respect for my culture regardless. I just wish I could speak about it or my experience with it without feeling like there’s no point. I get ignored, avoided, and not listened to when I talk about my own experience with my culture and what it entails. The good and the bad.

I didn’t have a parental side growing up, all I had was my maternal grandmother, all of her sisters, and when time allowed; my mom. I grew up going to school with food that kids didn’t recognize and bullied me over the smell or the look of it. I proudly went and learned traditional dancing from my grandmother, who always saw me through whatever wall I tried to build. I wore outfits other kids didn’t understand, I spoke a language other kids didn’t understand. I experienced so much heaviness due to my culture, and I regret none of it. It’s shaped me into who I am. I just wish I could relate with other people who grew up in the same circumstances without feeling like because of how I look, my emotions, my experiences, don’t matter.

[deertaz]

I'm Back

This account was something I made when I was 14 and in a very bleak time of my life. I have deleted most of my old posts, not only because I wish to forget that time, but also because as an adult, I now understand how venting towards a public space can validate and enable the self-harmful behaviours of other people.

Luckily this account got nothing more that a few notes, with a handful of people looking at what I posted. But, I would like to apologise to anybody who saw my posts and were triggered by it.

I never participated in any group chats or messages encouraging my or the EDs of others. Even then, I saw the danger of such things. However, through sharing my experiences and harmful thoughts in visceral detail, I may have contributed to the validation of others as mentally damaged as I was at the time. Again, I am lucky that next to nobody saw this account.

So, take this as a reintroduction of myself;

Hi, I'm 'Taz', I'm 19. I'm in Uni right now with a freelance job. I love dressing in alternative 'gothic' styles, listening to emo, metal, goth and alternative music. I've experienced a lot since I've been gone, and have been incredibly lucky over the past 3-4 years since my departure.

I have gained lifelong friends who truly value me for the person I am. I graduated high school at 16 and, since then, have found a confidence in myself that I never knew I had. I am capable, thriving and happy with myself and the things I have accomplished so far. I spoke in front of a crowd of 200 last year, and realised how the only thing holding me back is myself.

I no longer feel ashamed about my interests, nor my appearance. I don't hide my love for childish and nerdy things. I'm just a bit odd, but standing out both appearance-wise and personality-wise have turned out to be an asset. It has drawn the most remarkable and kind people to me. I met my platonic soulmate, who has been my best friend for 3 years.

And yes, I have not been friends with that girl I ranted about in 2019 for over 4 years (left the post up since I believe it isn't harmful). What she said and did to me wasn't okay, I'm proud of myself for finally being able to cut her out of my life. I was a very insecure lonely person, who didn't understand how friends should treat you. I never had friends as a child, since I was considered weird. So joining high school (I was 11, UK) made me try to change myself, I was quiet and agreeable. When she offered me friendship I was very happy, but did not have the self confidence nor the wisdom to realise that she was treating me horribly. I understand now, and am quite a lot better with setting boundaries.

I have had two partners, and one on and off situationship thing (lol). I'm not a lesbian, I'm Bi with a preference for women. My parents know. I have a 17 year old brother who I love to pieces, every day I am taken a-back by how much I get on with him. I value our closeness and am very grateful that he's in my life.

My relationship with my mother has been rocky at times, especially from 10-16. But I no longer live at home, so my interactions with her have improved a lot. I love her, she is a kind person, though very temperamental. She is also no longer bedridden!

I am now 19, I am older. I am much better at handling her outbursts. I stand up for myself without shouting back. I realised the best way to respond to her is either by removing myself, or by asking her questions, 'did you take your meds today?', 'why do you think you are angry?', 'Does this warrant shouting?'.

My favourite thing to say is, 'I love you mum, but I hate how you are acting right now.'

It shows to her that I love her, what I'm saying isn't an attack on her character, but on her current actions. It's a pretty good way of letting her know (I think).

Anyways, rant over (for now). For anybody still struggling with an ED, please seek comfort in others. Tell somebody. It's a slow recovery, and you might relapse a few times before it gets better. But it does get better. For anybody still in those awful teen years, it's a shitty waiting game but the end post is in sight, and it's a path to something far brighter.

-Taz

[dovahnap]

So I have a pretty significant ASMR addiction.

I’m not sure if it’s an addiction—I listen to it at night because it helps me sleep and wearing headphones blocks out the sound of my husband breathing/snoring. I don’t, like, get withdrawal, and it doesn’t preoccupy my thoughts or anything, but I have listened to ASMR basically every night for the past several years. Feelsgoodman.jpg.

If you’re unlucky enough not to experience ASMR—basically it’s this physical sensation of relaxation and head tingling that occur in reaction to certain sounds—whispering, tapping, the sound of rain, guided meditation, Tibetan singing bowls—the list goes on. There’s also a visual component—when woo practitioners wave their hands around, makeup tutorials, someone writing things down carefully, etc. you may have experienced it while getting a haircut, or a lice check in elementary school. It almost certainly has evolutionary roots in primate grooming/bonding behavior. Now that I think about it (flashback to being a kid and having my face painted by a woman at a community center art festival) it can be described as the feeling of being lulled.

Other early ASMR memories include: Enya (Memory of Trees, Anywhere Is, Caribbean Blue), the sound of a bath being drawn (for some reason it’s particularly intense when feverish), storytime/read-aloud. I once had an algebra teacher in college whom I could barely understand, given that she spoke with a very strong accent, but when the lights were turned off and the overhead projector brought out and she started factoring quadratic equations, I was in bliss. At the end of a health class (also in college), the instructor played a 10 minute guided meditation, and I realized that there was a way to get this feeling on tap whenever I wanted. And so it began.

There’s an assumption from some people that ASMR is primarily a sex thing. Which is not the case, but it’s not always not the case. Although you could say that about almost anything. On the other hand, I think it’s arguable that ASMR, being a simulation of intimacy, is closer to being a sex thing on the scale of sex thing (porn) to very much not a sex thing—actually, scratch that, my “very much not a sex thing” example was going to be “mechanical tutorial” but mechanical tutorials make up some of the greatest unintentional ASMR videos ever so even that doesn’t hold.

I guess it’s similar to porn in the sense that one of the reasons people watch/listen to it is to elicit a physiological sensation, and however weird the actual content is, as long as the all-important head tingles are achieved it’s successful. At the same time, why does reading the Tao Te Ching or the autobiography of St Theresa elicit a similar feeling of calm? In Jerry Spinelli’s ur-Manic Pixie Dreamgirl opus “Stargirl,” there’s a scene where the two leads go to a place in the desert where Stargirl (that’s her name) essentially teaches the protagonist how to meditate, and I read that scene over and over.

I guess my point is that maybe ASMR is more fundamental than sexuality—it’s less exciting, less about power dynamics (although there’s definitely some ASMR that verges closer to porn in that regard). Is ASMR feminine joussaince? Is ASMR jhana-related?

There was once an Onion article that was something about researchers discovering that the sensation of ASMR was literally millions of brain cells dying off, and while I doubt this is the case I have wondered what long-term ASMR exposure does to the brain.

I’ve never used cannabis (I know it’s hard to believe) but I wonder how cannabis and other substances affect ASMR sensitivity.

I’m wondered whether the itchiness I’ve felt when taking painkillers (opioids after surgery) is related?

I don’t know.

I guess to me, ASMR feels like being safe.

It should definitely be studied more.

[goxinsane]

𝚁𝙾𝚇𝚈 𝙹𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙴𝙴𝚁𝚈; @endlessfebrvary ; x

A week ago, Roxy experienced her first taste of true freedom as she saw her mother in her actual form (rather than be a figment of her imagination for the billionth time), waiting for her arrival with open arms and matching tears. And now, she was doing it again, in the arms of her BEST FRIEND. She knew her adjustment back into the real world would take an exorbitant amount of time, including healing her tainted heart and roughed up skin, but she couldn't put off seeing Anakin any longer-- he was family too. Their reunion was an emotional one and her apologizes slipped without a second thought. It made her feel a twinge of guilt, because she knew she missed far too much. Unlike him, Roxy had never even finished school and didn't graduation and it felt like her adolescent years were ripped out of her hands. So, as she imagined his diploma hanging up on the wall, it made her feel proud that at least he was able to grow up and live his life. But he too, had been through so, so much-- and if magic existed, a start would be taking ALL their pain away with a simple hug. Unfortunately, that's not how life worked and it was cruel.

When a parent or guardian warned and protected to their children against countless dangers of the world, it was for their own good. And Roxy and her siblings were good children and listened. But when menacing people with menacing thoughts did the unspeakable, the world became gloomy and scary. Nobody could ever fathom or describe the trauma and torture inflicted onto others, whether with psychological abuse or something even worse. And everything about her own time, far, far away, was a lump in her throat. It was difficult to talk about because deep down, Roxy did not want to relive it either, but at least she had the same familiar feeling of love and support upon being back HOME. She knew to talk about it when she was ready (except when she had to file an immediate police report), and her family understood because that was their caring nature.

As Anakin whispered reassurances in her ear, Roxy simply nodded. Just to hear his voice again, made her feel safe. She was, no doubt, in a safe space and was taking it for granted. But before she knew it, she pulled away to look him straight in the eye, even if they were clouded again. Staying in his bubble, her arms retrieved themselves from his neck and moved to wipe his tears away with her sweater covered thumbs. Neither of them were ashamed of being emotional as it was better than holding it in after so long and it showed character, but Roxy didn't want anyone to feel sad about her disappearance again-- even though she saw the milk carton with her missing poster, inside her mother's fridge. They earned this closure and it was cathartic.

Her eyes searched over his features to refamilarise herself as if she had forgotten him, but she didn't forget anyone even with the haziness happening in her brain. "I love you so much," her voice croaked out before she blinked and more tears fell down her own cheeks. "You don't know how much I missed my best friend," The childish side of Roxy came out as she extended her arms out as far as she could, (gesturing something she used to do) and showing the arms length of how much she missed someone. It was simpler than words. "This much, Ani, this much." A genuine laugh left her system, for the first time in a long time, ahead of hugging him once more. Not all the anxiety exasperated once she was in his arms, but it was there. And what helped? Play-doh.

After a beat, she spoke once more. "You know, I gotta get me some of that Play-doh. Do you think I can come in and we can play with it, weirdo?" Roxy teased, trying to lighten the mood, even just a little bit.

[ruminativerabbi]

The President's Warren-Harding-Moment

Warren G. Harding, the 29th president of the United States, came to the presidency on the heels of a landslide victory over his Democratic opponent, James M. Cox. (He was also the first of our three presidents to move director from the Senate to the White House, the other two being JFK and Barack Obama.) And there truly was a new age dawning as Harding took the oath of office on March 4, 1921. The Great War was over, the Treaty of Versailles in effect for more than a year, our troops all back home. It was the Jazz Age, the Roaring Twenties, les années folles in our nation and across the Atlantic in Europe. The future felt bright, our national potential for growth almost limitless.

And then, just a couple of months after Harding came to office, America experienced a race-based pogrom on a scale that had never been seen before. Called the Tulsa Race Massacre (or, sometimes, the Black Wall Street Massacre), the event featured mobs of white citizens rampaging through the Greenwood district of Tulsa, a Black neighborhood, eventually destroying 35 square blocks of homes and businesses. The precise number of people killed during those days, May 31 and June 1 of 1921, is not known, but the estimates range from 75 to 300. About 10,000 people were left homeless. It was, even by the standards of the day, a shocking event that seized the attention of the nation. To learn more, I recommend Tim Madigan’s book, The Burning: Massacre, Destruction, and the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921, which I read a decade ago when it first came out.

The riot presented President Harding with a remarkable challenge because he was scheduled just two days later to deliver the commencement address at Lincoln University in Oxford, Pennsylvania, the nation’s first degree-granting Historically Black College. He could surely have given some sort of color-by-number speech about graduating college and moving into the future and been forgiven for his blandness. But he saw an opportunity, a great one, and he took it. He only spoke for ten minutes. But in those ten minutes, he identified himself with his Black listeners (a remarkable thing for a white man in his office to do, and especially for the President who followed Woodrow Wilson, a known racist and segregationist). He wondered aloud how government, lacking a magic wand that could somehow alter attitude and stance, could lead Black Americans forward to a position of equality by working to offer Black Americans a chance to go to school, to become educated, and to enter society on an equal footing with their white co-citizens. And he spoke about Tulsa, calling the riot “an unhappy and distressing spectacle” of the kind that the nation should not and cannot tolerate. And then, in a gesture that will seem ordinary to most today but which at the time was considered astonishing, the white President of the United States shook the hand of every single Black member of the graduating class, which was all of them.

That fall, Harding went south to Birmingham, Alabama, to speak at the celebration of the city’s semicentennial. The Black third of the audience was separated from the white two-thirds by a chain-link fence. The President began his remarks, as everybody expected, by praising the city and commenting on its beauty. But then he reverted to Tulsa and, without mentioning the massacre, addressed its aftermath clearly and precisely. Black Americans fought in the Great War just as patriotically as white citizens, he began by noting. And then he went on to say clearly that Black people should not only not be prevented from voting, but should be encouraged to vote. Educational opportunities should be extended equally to all, he said, and without reference to race. And white Americans should be encouraging their Black neighbors to find their own leaders and to participate in the effort to advance humanity morally and politically. For the time and place, it was a remarkable statement. The white listeners greeted his speech with stony silence. The Black listeners responded with “uproarious applause,” to quote a journalist who was present. There was no question where Harding stood. It was his moment and he neither flinched nor equivocated. He is remembered today as, at best, a mediocre president. But he was a brave man as well. And delivering that speech in the heart of segregationist Alabama was a message as loud and clear as any President could have delivered. In many ways, the Birmingham speech was Warren Harding’s finest hour.

I reminded myself all about these two speeches as a way of preparing to hear President Biden speak Tuesday morning about the surge of anti-Semitism in America. I was especially curious to see if he would offer concrete steps forward or merely condemn prejudice, if he would address the haters in the manner of Warren Harding standing in front of a segregated audience in the heart of the South and daring to insist on equality for Black Americans. Would Biden merely announce that he is opposed to anti-Semitism in the way that people are opposed to bad weather, i.e., without anyone supposing that he could actually do something about it? Or would we hear concrete proposals about how our nation should move forward? I was especially interested in hearing what he would say about our nation’s college campuses. Would he call for the expulsion of students who openly call for the murder of their Jewish classmates? Would he announce that guest-students in our nation who openly espouse genocide directed against Jews (or anyone) be deported? Would he say clearly that college professors, including tenured ones, who espouse hatred of Jews should, at the very least, be fired? That was what I was waiting to hear.

In the end, the President didn’t call for any of the measures mentioned just above in so many words, but, almost despite myself, I was impressed, even moved, by his words. The man is not a great orator, but his words were clearly heartfelt and personal. And what he had to say was beyond resonant with me because he artfully made the single point over and over that I personally find it the most exasperating when our elected officials seem not to understand.

To my relief and slight amazement, the President seemed fully aware that it is not possible for Jewish Americans with any sense of their own history to consider the events of October 7 other than in the context of the Shoah. Yes, I understand that Hamas-governed Gaza is not Nazi Germany. But I am incapable of hearing stories about children being murdered, women being sexually abused and then killed, elderly people dragged from their homes and shipped off to unknown destinations to meet whatever fate awaited them there—I am just not able to hear any of that without being transported back to the dark days of the 1940s. Nor, I think, should anyone be able to be. And then the President tied the two together unambiguously: “Now here we are, not 75 years later, but just seven-and-a-half months later and people are already forgetting, are already forgetting that Hamas unleashed this terror. That it was Hamas that brutalized Israelis. It was Hamas who took and continues to hold hostages. I have not forgotten, nor have you, and we will not forget.”  That is the precise point for Jewish Americans: that to talk about Hamas without reference to murder, rape, and barbarism towards babies is exactly the same as discussing the Nazis without reference to Auschwitz.

And then the President made that point even more clear, stressing that he understood fully that the Israeli response to the Simchat Torah pogrom was rooted in the history of the Jewish people and that those memories are, for better or worse, ineradicable: Too many people [are] denying, downplaying, rationalizing, ignoring the horrors of the Holocaust and October 7th, including Hamas' appalling use of sexual violence to torture and terrorize Jews. It's absolutely despicable and it must stop…Some injustices are so heinous, so horrific, so grievous they cannot be…buried, no matter how hard people try.

I recommend reading the whole speech, which you can do by clicking here. And I recommend comparing it to a document published on the White House’s own website, a fact sheet detailing the Biden-Harris administration’s national strategy to combat anti-Semitism. It’s a remarkable document in its own right, something very worth your time to consider. (To see a copy, click here.) You will find there more than 100 specific steps the administration is taking or wishes to take to fight anti-Jewish prejudice in these United States. Some of them seem a bit odd (will things really change if enough NBA players visit Yad Vashem?), but other initiatives seem solid and potentially very effective. But what struck me, aside from the details, was the larger image here of the President offering not one or two, but dozens upon dozens of initiatives to make Jewish people in our nation feel and be safe and secure.

But that document was from last year, published in May 2023. It still reads well. But this is now, not then. In May of 2023, our nation’s college campuses hadn’t turned into battlegrounds onto which Jewish students barely dare to wander and our nation’s high schools hadn’t become breeding grounds for anti-Israel and anti-Jewish hatred. We hadn’t yet had the surge in anti-Semitic incidents that the President himself characterized as “ferocious.” So the efforts outlined in last year’s policy paper, for all they were surely well-meaning and even potentially game-changing, need to be revised and revamped in light of the new normal. The President did address the situation on campus. And what he said was spot on (“In America we respect and protect the fundamental right to free speech, to debate and disagree, to protest peacefully and make our voices heard. But there is no place on any campus in America … for antisemitism or hate speech or threats of violence of any kind.”) But I was disappointed that the President didn’t call for the three-pronged approach to the situation on our nation’s campuses I recommended above. And I do believe that things will not change until it becomes clear that calling for more October 7’s, the equivalent of calling for the murder of Jewish children and the rape of Jewish women and the wholesale slaughter of Jewish families, will result in expulsion for students, dismissal for faculty, and deportation for visitors from foreign lands who received visas to come to these shores to study and not to call for the murder of our citizens. That was what I wanted to hear and didn’t.

President Harding’s Birmingham speech was a grand moment for the man and for the nation. But that was in 1921 and it took more than forty years for the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to become the law of the land. We can’t wait forty years for focused, effective action on anti-Semitism. Nor should we have to.

[dearreba]

January 14, 2024

Dear Reba,

This isn't the first time I've written to you. It's just the first time I've ever told anyone about it. I've been a fan of your music for as long as I can remember. I've watched your TV show several times. I even read Not That Fancy all the way through in a day. I'm working my way through your 1994 book "Reba: My Story" and while I've been writing these letters for years, something this past weekend has led to the keyboard now.

I know I can never be an OG fan. To be quite honest, I'm younger than "Reba: My Story." I grew up in the Midwest and found solace in country music. My great-grandmother loved your show and I heard your song "You're Gonna Be" on the radio one day and it just spoke to me. Since that day on the school bus, I've listened to every album at least once. Now that I've told you that, I can get to the heart of my letter today.

I turn to your show, along with several others, when I just need a comfort show. Something that I know. Something familiar. And this last year, the only thing I've wanted is familiar. Between my husband springing a divorce on me, losing my boss suddenly, and having to change jobs twice, plus yeeting an organ out of my body (gallbladder) I have needed something familiar. So, I turned to your show and your music.

As we've been experiencing this Arctic freeze cold snap I've had a lot of time to think. And this is both a good thing and a bad thing because I lost a lot this last year. My marriage, my support system, friends. And I was watching the episode when Kyra decided to move in with Brock and Barbra Jean when I felt my heart started to break. While it wasn't really a matter of my parents being divorced and me choosing to leave one parent to live with the other, it was me leaving for college and my parents shoving me out the door.

I didn't have someone to care enough to try and make me want to stay, let alone come home and visit. I didn't have someone to come talk to when there was this boy I liked or when I wasn't feeling well or when I needed surgery my freshman year of college. Instead, I was just on my own. Finding people who in the moment would support me in the moment but would bail on me later on. Then I finally thought I had found my person, and he left too. I felt alone like I was everyone's last choice. It's how I imagine Kyra felt in that episode and in the episodes surrounding it.

The way that you made sure she knew she was loved has always spoken to me. It's always something I wish someone would have done for me. And right now, when I'm feeling like I have nothing going for me, I really needed that.

So, like in most of these letters, I just wanted to say thank you. I'll spend the next few days with your albums on shuffle and digging my way through my work before our busy season.

[whatib]

Who are we?

I was raised a Catholic. The Jews killed Jesus was bashed into my skull for 12 years of Catholic school. As a kid you can only learn from what other people tell you, and the rumor was that Jews are bad people. Aye aye then the internet came along and you learned things that you never saw before. You also became an adult and met Jewish people, and all kinds of other people outside of your hometown. Then I married a Jewish woman. When I went to her uncle's funeral in Fargo North Dakota, I sat in the front row with her family in the synagogue. I saw a beautiful place. A Temple of God, and so similar to the church I frequented as a boy. When we stood up to leave the Temple at the end of the ceremony, I turned and saw the Temple full to the rim, standing room only. As we exited the Temple I looked out over a Sea of People. It looked like thousands of people came for this man's funeral. Three fire engines were there and a dozen police cars. The crowd stood in prayer with the family as we walked out. ( I wasn't even married to Lisa yet, and I felt ashamed to be walking in the presence of such a great family, I didn't deserve it. I was just a stupid gentile) When we arrived at the home of Lisa's Aunt, I watched and listened as the family spoke about her Uncle and sat Shivah. I watched and watched. The Love in that home was beyond anything I experienced with my torn divorced family of me, my sister and my mother in our tiny apartment. My lonely home of strife and alcohol, and hate. Back on that day in Fargo I remember finding a spot on the stairs and looking over the living room(being their home was so full of people)…and they said a Hebrew prayer that made me cry the same way I'm crying as I write this….I watched and listened….I learned…I was in the presence of God's Chosen People…I was listening to the same prayer that was spoken by Jews for THOUSANDS of years…I was humbled…I was ashamed to say I was a Christian….I felt I followed a cheap knock off of the Original Religion that began when the Earth and Universe were created…I shook as I stood there, I bowed my head and asked God to Forgive me for all of the doubts I ever had towards the People of Judea. The Jewish People are God's Chosen People, the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of Humanity. They Created the World we live in. They taught us how to build a loving family, how to work hard, how to enjoy life, how to worship God, the Earth, the Universe and/or whatever you may believe in. They gave us the 10 Commandments and they taught use how to Live. We should be grateful that they are here in our presence.

Since then, 1999…I'm still not too big on Christians. My wife and I went to a church in Texas in 2008 when we visited one of our employees. I have a funny feeling the Pastor knew we were there because he made it a point to say "The Jews Killed Jesus!" during his sermon, and he said it as loud as he could. We knew it was aimed at us, but couldn't leave at that point, so I grabbed my wife's hand and we stood tall. I know not all Christians are like that. And we all know that not every Jew is the perfect Jew. Every race, creed and color has bad players. It's just how life works. But we all want to be Jesus don't we? Whether he was a real person or never existed, the story of Jesus, who was a Jew, is a compelling story that gives us guidance, and hope for the future of humanity. So in his eyes, the eyes of a Jew, we all want to be Jewish. We want to be good people, with good hearts, who work tirelessly, who will literally give you the shirt off their back if you ask them.

I saw it with my own eyes just last week. A Jewish lady visited our candle shop for special needs individuals. She had the most beautiful earrings on. The Columbian woman who works at the shop said "What beautiful earrings you have" and the Jewish woman immediately took them off and handed them to Alba. I said to myself…"that's where the saying comes from!"….I couldn't believe my eyes…

We all know that the world is struggling. We know we can all do better, we have been better…we don't have to become Jewish, but we can respect one another regardless of religion…and leave each other be, in our ways of worship or ways of Life…we are one People, all from the same place…Earth…the Bible told many good stories and bad, but it did mention kindness….being kind to one another is all it takes

[independentartistbuzz]

7 From the Women with Eri Blossom

Eri Blossom is a NYC based singer, rapper, and songwriter. Her music is strongly influenced by Japanese and American culture, which shows listeners a view they’ve never seen. Growing up in Japan with parents who loved American and British culture, it wasn’t difficult for her to get into classic R&B and Hip-Hop such as Chaka Khan, Whitney Houston, TLC, Tupac, Janet Jackson, and more.

After she moved to Tokyo from her hometown to continue her music study, she had opportunities to sing at night clubs and was able to visit NYC to take the class by the daughter of Ray Charles, Sheila Raye Charles. 

During the trip, she had some opportunities to do street performances and interact with the audience. This experience convinced her to move to NYC. Since her move, she has earned a bachelor's degree in Jazz studies from the City College of New York where she expanded her influence to Jazz music. She has also performed in open mics at well-known music venues in New York City, such as Village Underground, Ashford and Simpson’s Sugar Bar, Harlem Nights, The Groove and Negril BK.

We had the honor of speaking with Eri Blossom about her new music, her musical career, what's next, and so much more!

What Have You Been Working To Promote Lately?

I recently released my 2nd single “Breakthrough” The song is about one of my themes as an  artist; women’s rights. I want to present a new way of being a Japanese woman and break the stereotype of Japanese women. The song is a mix of Japanese Koto instrument and some 2000’s  hiphop vibes. It’s a very energetic song. 

I was born and raised in Japan. When I lived in Japan, I always felt that I was an outsider  because my personality never met the ideal Japanese woman; conservative, elegant and quiet.  I’m naturally assertive and was the type that always spoke up in school. It became a liability in  Japan. I felt worthless and this pressure made me think that I have to be like them. After I  moved to NYC, my personality became stronger, which allows me to increase my self acceptance and enjoy myself.  

And I thought that I would like to support women through my music by verbalizing the pressure  that we feel subconsciously. 

There are stories that I believe I only can tell. This song is the beginning of it.

Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you 

My Life by Mary J. Blige. As an artist, I was looking for perfection in myself. I wanted to sound perfect and tried to be someone else. But this song made me realize rawness and imperfection  is what speaks to people. In this song, she just expresses herself instead of singing perfectly,  which makes her message stronger. Also, we tend to hide the negative side of ourselves.  Because we don’t want to be hurt or be criticized. But she shows her vulnerability in this song which means she faced her pain as an artist. I personally think she is brave doing it because it’s  not that easy. That realization has been helping to build up the core of my artistry.  

What does it mean to you to be a woman making music/in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music? 

To me, it’s a battleground. I wish it were not. But unfortunately, it is. There are many traps and  people who try to take an advantage of you. My case is the worst because I’m a foreigner from  Japan. Because English is my second language and many people assume that I’m quiet due to  my nationality, which is a big mistake! haha 

I’ve worked with a music engineer who didn’t listen to me at all and imposed his ideas for  mixing. He also neglected to reply to my messages for several weeks. I eventually figured out a  way to convey what I expected him to do, because I talked to other experienced female artists  who shared their wisdom with me. It’s also unfortunate to hear from them that it’s the culture.  This experience made me aware of this issue and made me want to support other woman  artists. Actually this experience also inspired me to write my second single.  

What is the most personal thing you have shared in your music or in your artist brand as it relates to being female? 

Japanese girls are given traditional Japanese dolls which are called Hina Dolls. We wish health  for girls at Girl’s festival on March 3. There is a saying that the girl will get married late if you  don’t put away the doll right after the festival. I grew up hearing message and it pressured me  subconsciously. I decided to include it in my second single. 

Who was the first female artist that made you want to create music / be in the business?

There is a famous Japanese R&B singer called MISIA. I still remember the excitement when I listened to her album for the first time. I just wanted to become a singer like her and practiced her songs all the time.  

Who's Your Favorite Female Icon (dead or alive) and why? 

TLC! I started taking hip-hop dance classes at age 9 before I started taking vocal classes. I was  told to dance choreographies with TLC songs. Classmates dressed up like TLC or Janet Jackosn,  which I really love. This experience introduced me to the street culture and became the  foundation of my music.  

What do you hope to share with other women in the industry with your music? 

Empowerment. Encouragement. I understand that sometimes it’s hard to make music as a woman artist, but I’m here for you. Don’t be afraid of being you and raising your voice!

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Revelations (3x11)

All he wanted was to go to Heaven.

Owen never went to church when he was young. He didn’t have that kind of family. He barely had any family at all. It was just him, his mother, and his grandmother, and neither of them paid him much attention anyway. They never said it, but he knew it was because of how he looked. 

He was bullied at school and stared at on the street, but he was used to it. He didn’t know life any different. He looked weird and people knew it. End of story. 

And when you look weird, your options are few. Nobody wants a big bald freak opening them up and taking out their appendix. He would never stand in a courtroom or in front of a classroom. He thought maybe he could be a cop, but he was too scary to be a good guy. So he stayed out of sight. He kept his head down, did his work, paid the bills. 

He dropped out of school and worked odd jobs for most of his life. He eventually found himself working at a church, cleaning toilets and mopping floors. At first it was just another paycheck, but one day he started listening. 

He noticed how happy the music from the organ at the altar made him, how calm he felt when the voices of the singing congregation washed over him. He would close his eyes and take a break from washing windows or dusting statues to soak it in. His body would fill with peace in a way he’d never experienced before. 

He learned a lot while keeping the church clean– the stories of Jesus, the teachings and beliefs, but he also discovered the many sides of religion. He saw the greed, the envy, the pride. The priests who looked tired and spread thin. The volunteers who bragged and showed off. The kids who cried, the elderly who wept.

He saw weddings and funerals, those who believed and those who were there for nothing but the wrong reasons. 

He watched people pretend to be godly churchgoers only to step outside the doors and yell at their spouses as they got in their Volvos and BMWs.

He took it all in, not sure where his place was in the big picture of all these people coming to worship. Until one day, long after moving on from his job at the church, God spoke to him.

Standing stock still in the garden of his employer’s house, he heard His voice. 

Protect him. Keep him safe. 

He should have been scared; it wasn’t normal to hear a voice in your head when there was no one around. But he wasn’t. He was filled with a sort of light. A purpose. The words felt like an embrace, more comforting than any hug he’d received from his mother, more assuring than any words ever spoken to him. 

For those brief moments, as that love surrounded him, he knew everything would be all right. God was with him. He was meant for someplace better than this. But first, he had a job to do. 

The only thing that mattered was the boy, Kevin. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, Kevin was his priority now. He kept the family’s lawn perfectly mowed, no longer to pay his bills, but to stay close and protect their child. Everything he did– what he ate, how he dressed, how he arranged his day– was with the intent of doing God’s will. 

He gave of himself, abandoning what little life he’d had, to honor God’s words and do as he had been called. 

As he sat with his arms tied behind his back, he watched the FBI agents. The man only wanted answers, but he assumed the woman with the cross would understand. 

“You believe me, don’t you?” he asked her. “I mean, you must wear that as a reminder.”

She looked down towards her cross. He knew deep in his soul that she wanted to believe– he could feel it surrounding her– but she locked her faith inside. If only she could trust, in herself and in Him. 

“Mr. Jarvis,” she said, and he could tell she was shaken. “My religious convictions are hardly the issue here.”

“But they are.” He was angry because he now understood that nothing was more important than one’s faith in God. “How can you help Kevin, if you don't believe? Even the killer, he believes.”

Her partner made some sort of joke that Owen chose to ignore. 

“Mass on Christmas, fish on Friday,” he said, remembering the things he’d learned from his years at the church, aware that she would know them too. He wanted his words to hurt, to make her see how wrong she was.

“You think that makes you a good Christian,” he continued. “Just because you don't understand the sacrifice, because you're unwilling, don't think for a moment that you set the rules for me. I don't question His word. Whatever He asks of me, I'll do.”

He jumped to his feet and then male agent turned towards him. “Sit down, Mr. Jarvis.”

It was so simple, if they only understood what He wanted. He needed to keep Kevin safe. It was the only thing he had to do. 

“I just want to go to Heaven.” 

He needed to get to Kevin. They were wasting time. 

He could hear the voice. 

He’s near. He’ll kill him. Protect the child. 

He didn’t think; he simply did what was needed. He barely felt the glass against his skin or the hard ground under his body. The strength of something more powerful than himself brought him to his feet and propelled him forward. 

He needed to get to Kevin. He would protect him until the moment his life ended. He would do God’s will, and as he left this earth, he would enter His kingdom, greeting Him with open arms and a smile across his lips. 

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Ao3

@fridaysat9

[thalenteot17]

Standing on the edge of OT

any Philosophers have defined life in many different words, but the question remains, What is life?

Is it a journey to the end or is it as Alan Watt would say it; life is a means to be alive every day, enjoying the journey but with the happiness being central to the journey and not the end?

I may not be rephrasing his words correctly, so rather listen to his lesson on this link: https://youtu.be/rBpaUICxEhk

Ok, now that’s has been cleared let’s go to our reflections.

Welcome to the beginning of the end, but before we investigate the next 17 months left, let us reflect on the past 3 years, starting with 2019, the year I decided I wanted to do Orthotics and prosthetics, because I was fascinated by the idea of building assistive devices to enable people to live their lives to their fullest potential after a disability, a chance to be a light of hope to those in the dark, it just spoke to me. As fate will have it, DUT would eventually withdraw my conditional offer.

Reflecting on this you would disagree with Alan, in his speech about life not being a journey to a destination; In desperation of getting a university space, I did a late application to the CLAM of UKZN in 2020 and did BAdmin, despised it every day, and that is why when internal applications opened I quickly applied to the COHS, but now what course, because going to DUT was no longer an option, not after I have experienced UKZN. After realising one of my high school friends was also at UKZN doing OT, I started looking in that direction, so I started my research about this profession, Google was completely misleading about the benefits of being an OT they receive a car and housing fringe benefits, obviously that’s not true in South Africa, but maybe it is the motivation I needed to make the right choice.

Ironically, I was accepted to the OT program, only to realise that what I had been describing as OP; changing people's lives, being the light in the darkness, was OT, up till now I don’t know the role of OPs, but I am glad I found my destiny.

Perhaps Alan’s words contradict my journey thus far, but have huge implications for my future with OT, after graduating there is a Master's to chase, then perhaps a PhD, who knows, Prof Pragashnie Govender wouldn’t have it any other way, she has been a great influence to me in terms of looking towards research in OT, which has since interested me. My journey with OT does not have a specified endpoint, but just achievements and obstacles, I and those who support me would like to see me overcome, it is true my brilliance comes but occasionally, I am joking, but I promised Pre to never be comfortable with just scratching the surface, so I must honour that promise, and OT is an extraordinary profession, extraordinary in its views, its models and approaches, like the client centred approach, Rogers did it for me with that treatment approach

So, the thrill, the excitement, the happiness, is the journey itself, yes those certificates and honorary PHD, an OT from one of the hospitals in KZN recommended for me to UKZN after my volunteering at the hospital, yes, those moments will be breathtaking but they will always be meaningless to the excitement of getting there, my OT life is not a means to just an end, but it a means every day, means of changing lives, being that light and now as an additional identity contributing to the research of the profession, because someone needs to push our practitioners with more information.

Some say life is a journey to an end, some say it is an art piece. I say life, is a network of choices, and who we will be is determined by who we are today.