#anyways real tired of social media psychology

[likeabxrdinflight]

real tired of instagram pop psychology demonizing the avoidant attachment style like it's some character flaw and not also a result of ruptured attachments in childhood just like the other two insecure styles

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

was I the asshole for beating the shit out of my classmate(s)?

I (14F) have endured bullying for some years now. I've told my parents, my older brother, my grandparents, my teachers and my favorite aunt. nothing has been done, and if anything asking for help and not receiving it has made me feel much worse because I've felt stupid for thinking I could trust anyone with this

its been getting so bad that for the last 6 months or so I've been waking up with intense panic attacks every day and I would refuse to move. my mom would berate me and drag me to school anyway. literally dragging me by pulling me because I would not move

so the other day she dropped me by at school and I had another panic attack in the hallway. a teacher found me and instead of helping me he forcefully took me to class. I literally begged him to at least give me a moment so I would calm down and he said no. he took me to class to make sure I would walk in and I did, still having a panic attack. this only made my classmates laugh at me even more. particularly one girl and one boy who are the worst so when I walked by them I snapped and I started punching them, pulling their hair, grabbing a heavy book and hitting them with it.... I thought I couldn't hit hard at all but I must have been really angry bc the guy started bleeding from his nose and the girl started bleeding from her lip after accidentally biting it while I was hitting her

suddenly the school staff decided to get off their asses. no action was taken when I needed help but now they just happen to agree that violence is unacceptable. only physical violence tho bc harassing and psychologically abusing other students is ok. Ive been temporarily kicked out of school so clearly they can intervene, I just wonder how come they didnt do it sooner

my classmates were comparing me to school shooters on social media. I blocked their ass but I want to see whether they are right or if I shouldve hit them harder. I have never hit anyone before but I was real tired of their shit. I'm the one who faced consequence and not them so aita?

[valyrou]

Hello! I would like to request a BSD Match up if it'd be no trouble!! (My apologies in advance for any rambling/infodumping)

• Likes: antiques, light (like varied sources of light such as sunlight, lightning, stars, ectect), lightning/thunder storms, weaponry (weapons are so cool honestly), shiny things, clouds, just about anything visually appealing basically, comfy/flowy clothing (its fun), psychology, good attention to detail in writing media/characters, hardcover books, accurate psychoanalysis (i have a knack for it apparently, so much so its even been called "scary" with how accurate i am), good music and animation, genuine quality time, intricate art, dance, matching energies with people/bonding over shared likes and interests or at least given mutual support even though we may not understand each other, being right, ectect.

• Dislikes: ear piercing/sudden loud noise, being ignored, unkept promises, forced affection, being forced to do anything really (i can compromise and like if you explain why for some things without being rude about it then sure, i'm willing to do things just as long as you don't nag me about it too harshly), pain, uncertainties (they make me anxious), cuts (i'm strangely more okay with other forms of gore if i HAVE to see it though, I'd rather not, but incisions/cuts specificly give me the ick), bad sensory/stimuli (i have sensory issues so i'm pretty selective but i've worked on being more open minded to trying things), harm to children (i can sympathize with a lot of types of people, but when kids get hurt is where i draw a firm line though I would rather not be a parent myself for several personal reasons), people changing plans or taking things without at least asking first otherwise i don't usually have a problem unless it happens too frequently depending on what it is, having things assumed about me, ect.

• Personality Traits: I've been told I'm supportive, unyielding when it counts, strange but in a positive way, insecure (i've worked on this when it comes to me as a person but sharing my interests are still a work in progress), attentive to others, controling when it feels like others could be put in harms way, loyal, opinionated, protective, i often reflect others energy to socialize, easily overwhelmed, trustworthy, mature, calm, intuitive, intellectual(?), kind, quiet usually but can spontaneously be loud (its circumstantial), picky, shy, witty, sarcastic, sassy, emotional, wise, sentimental (give me anything and i'll likely keep it regardless of what it is), indecisive, anxious, observant, smart, petty, ectect.

MBTI: INTP-T or INFP-T (its SO close between my thinking and feelings anytime i have checked) its because i definitely am an emotional person but I also can at times be prone for apathy (only really when I'm tired of caring for someone that just does not even at least try to change for their own good yet they keep coming to me for solutions only to not follow through after so much time, such as trying to several months to even years) and rationalizing things (though I do understand that sometimes you just... feel and its okay to just let yourself feel)

• Hobbies: writing, concept/character creation, psychology study, cooking, dance, singing, reading, ect.

° Extra: I kin (BSD) characters such as Atsushi, Rampo, Poe, Odasaku, ect. Also my enneagram is 4w5 (Type Four wing Five) if that'd be any help. My love language is also quality time (though I think from certain said details that may or may not be obvious).

And I think that would be enough from me. Thank you for your time and consideration and please try not to stress yourself out on my account!

A/n: Hi!! Sorry for the late response but I am still in the middle of my exams atm!! (I‘m only finished with my test exams, I now have 5 weeks before the real exams come!) anyways I hope you like who I paired you up with anyways!

Requests: Open

I‘ll match you up with…

EDGAR ALLAN POE!

I feel like you two just go well together

You inspire Poe with his novels, even help him when he needs a complicated case.

You help each other out and have mutual interests. I picture you two just stargazing at a meteor shower :)

Loves spending time with you, doesn’t matter when or where. He even be happy if you two sat on a toilet together (at a certain point at least, this man is respectful)

Great listener

Poe probably tells you all about his rivalry with Ranpo lol and you’d have to encourage him to pull forward

You, Poe and Ranpo are the detective trio on god

Karl would love you, because you remind the little raccoon of Poe in some way

Probably gives you small gifts here and there (but only small ones even if they cost a fortune) but will stop if you‘re uncomfortable or just don’t like receiving gifts at all

Comes to you when he has a novel idea and discusses his idea with you

Little (love) poems for you <3

[15-lizards]

hi :)

i'm so sorry, i'm new to tumblr so i haven't gotten the whole asks thing down yet. could you do 1, 3, 6, 8, 9, and 10 for the reed gang and also stannis baratheon? thank you!!! :)

Omg of course my love!!

1. What would their social media page/activity be like?

-I think Meera has a twitter and spam instagram where she complains ab her problems and wonders if she’s a lesbian in the captions of cute animal memes (im projecting) and Jojen solely uses his instagram to identify bugs and plants and sometimes rocks. Stannis has like a very professional Facebook page for his business/election campaign or whatever and he has like five followers and sometimes Robert comments under his posts while he’s drunk

3. My thoughts on their design/aesthetic alone

-god I have so many thoughts. Meera is just such a kind looking girl (and Ellie Kendrick made me gay) who dresses like a bog person and throws nets and spears 10/10 no notes I love you swamp wife. Jojen is similar but he’s a sickly swamp boy which makes me sad but it’s an interesting character design I care him. Stannis is soooo fucking good like having his brothers height and strength but none of their charisma and also he’s balding is actually hilarious. Absolute unit of a depressed man

6. Psychological headcanons (tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

-Jojen Reed Autism Swag thank you for listening. Like I said that child can identify the hell out of some rocks and bugs. Meera eldest daughter syndrome!!! She’s so scared of losing Bran now that she knows she’s gonna lose Jojen she wants to protect everyone and make sure no one’s sacrifice goes to waste it’s such a burden to carry :( plus she has to protect everyone to my babygirl is getting grey hairs. Stannis also eldest daughter syndrome! He is repressed he is dutiful he is angry he only ever did what was expected of him and got jack shit in return but he keeps on trudging on cause that’s what he has to do I want to bite something

8. Made-up connections with other characters that weren’t in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever)

-Meera and Dany are girlfriends and love each other this is canon to me actually. Meera and Robb would be friends I think and Sansa too :,) Jojen is such a little old man nerd I think he’d like hanging around Davos bc he respects little old man nerds (like Shireen, they would be friends too). And Stannis has never had a real friend in his life besides Maester Cressen and Davos but I think he has a grudging respect for Kevan Lannister. Dutiful second sons the both of them. Davos tries to get them to become actual friends bc he’s tired of being the only homoerotic codependent relationship Stannis has

9. Headcanons about their past

-I think Meera, not Jojen, has been raised to take over House Reed. She’s a natural leader and I’m sure Howland knows his son is gonna he paste anyway. Jojen probably used to want to become a Maester and study the higher mysteries before he got his death dreams :( Stannis was probably considered being sent to the citadel too, but I think Steffon decided he needed to stay by Roberts side to be his voice of reason which obviously turned out really well

10. Content about them I’d like to see more of

-I need more Meera fanart pretty please I miss ny baby girl. I also want fics of either her and Dany or her and Jojen and the starklings getting into shenanigans. I would love to see more Jojen dream analyses too, and posts connecting him to Cassandra and other literary references I live for that shit. I am honestly stuffed to the brim for Stannis content bc my entire tl is just Baratheon blogging but I will never say no to more fanart of him, sad old man stavos fics, or analyses on his character!!!

[talkingpointsusa]

Jordan Peterson throws a massive temper tantrum over having to take social media training.

The thirteenth rule for life is throwing a tantrum on the internet when you don't get your way. (Source: The Jordan Peterson Podcast on Daily Wire)

Well, Jordan Peterson has decided to grace the world with a forty minute video about how oppressed he is because he's been ordered to take social media training and since apparently I'm secretly a masochist I decided to watch it.

In case you haven't heard of this story, The Ontario Court of Appeals recently rejected Jordan Petersons appeal regarding the Ontario College Of Psychologists ordering him to take social media training. Since Jordan is a well documented oppositionally defiant asshole who throws shitfits over stickers on paper towel dispensers, this hasn't gone over well.

Since I know a lot of people are whining on Jordan's behalf that his free speech is being taken away, I'd like to get that argument out of the way before we even start. Jordan Peterson has a right to his free speech but that doesn't mean that he's free from the consequences of said speech. Jordan's license is a privilege and the Ontario College Of Psychologists has every right to take that privilege away if they feel like Jordan's behavior has violated their professional standards. Think of it like taking a toy away from a six year old child for throwing a tantrum. That kid threw a tantrum and that was their right, but that action had a consequence. Jordan Peterson chose to be a conservative media grifter and that action had a consequence.

Jordan Peterson is fascinating to me because it's shocking how somebody so discredited still has so much of a following. Jordan Petersons arguments have been proven to be total bullshit time and time again yet people still take him seriously. Some More News did an excellent (and very short) breakdown of Jordan's arguments if you want to look into them further.

I myself intend to cover more Jordan Peterson at some point so watch this space.

Anyway, Jordan and his daughter want you to know that they are very oppressed. Lets get into it.

00:11, Mikhaila Peterson: "This might not be the most fun conversation but I thought before we delve into how awful this, I thought I could just read a brief background I wrote about what's been going on so people are caught up to speed. Is that OK?"

Jordan Peterson: "Yep."

Mikhaila Peterson: "The gist of it is, it looks like your license is getting taken away."

Or you could grow up and do the training.

One thing I truly don't understand about this is why does Jordan care so much if his license is taken away?! He's not a professor anymore and he isn't even a practicing psychologist anymore. He smelled the conservative grift money and went there.

If his fans have still stuck with Jordan through the absolute embarrassment that has been his career, they aren't gonna care if his license is taken away.

Mikhaila briefly recaps her fathers battle with the Ontario College of Psychologists.

03:28, Mikhaila Peterson: "So, are you OK?"

Jordan Peterson: "It's tiring, you know. I'm preparing for this tour, I have a--I'm finishing two books, they're very complicated, they take pretty much all my attention and having to fight this war, well it's tiring. I have to plot, strategize, write, watch my tongue, consider my next best move, and I also have to face the dismal reality that, as I wrote in the National Post, in some real fundamental sense Canada's Charter of Rights isn't worth the papers it's printed on."

Again, this isn't a charter issue. The profession of psychology in Ontario is self-regulated and follows the Standards Of Professional Conduct which Jordan violated multiple times. Jordan wants to have his cake (being able to say inflammatory stuff on the internet) and eat it too (face no consequences from the Ontario College of Psychologists).

This oppression and woe is me B.S that Jordan is pulling here is also deeply vomit inducing. Jordan has an estimated net worth of $10 million and a job with a media platform that pays him massive amounts of money to say literally anything he wants without consequences (at least from them). Jordan Peterson isn't this oppressed victim, he's a petulant child whining about being forced to face the consequences of his actions.

04:54, Jordan Peterson: "The tweets that I really got criticized for, particularly the one regarding Paige or--Paige or however he or she wants to be referred to. I also regarded that as a professional obligation because I think it's incumbent on psychologists with an ounce of integrity point out the danger of having self-deluded, narcissistic, self-destructive, celebrities parade their proclivity to self-sterilize and self-mutilate as a public good on their public forums."

The portrayal of being transgender as a "proclivity to self-sterilize and self-mutilate" is poorly informed and overly verbose bigoted drivel.

What happened with Elliot Page was that Jordan was being a transphobic dick and deadnaming him while also saying that he "got his breasts removed by a criminal physician." It was completely unnecessary behavior and if Jordan characterizes this as him practicing psychology he should get his license removed immediately because no psychologist in their right mind would behave in this fashion.

I am shocked at the absolute gall that Jordan has to portray a trollish and sophomoric tweet designed to provoke a negative reaction as his duty as a psychologist. You want to talk about narcissism? This is it right here.

05:37, Jordan Peterson: "So, I don't regret any of that and I certainly-- you know me Mikhaila, I can feel guilty at the drop of a hat, it's actually one of my outstanding features."

Jordan, who is accusing all transgender people of being narcissists, ranting about his "outstanding features".

05:58, Jordan Peterson: "This is so ridiculous. I mean, the fact that the college accepted a complaint that was the entire transcript of my 3 hour discussion with Joe Rogan pretty much says it all."

Absolutely no idea if this is true or not because there's no way to verify it and Jordan isn't a reliable source at all. I could find no record of that complaint but since Jordan would know about complaints against him more than I would I'll give this one a "maybe" instead of an "outright lie". If Jordan is willing to provide evidence of this complaint, I will gladly accept it in the name of fairness.

But since Jordan opened the door, lets talk about his appearance on Rogan. A part of me wants to do a full debunk on this at some point (let me know if you'd like to see that) but I figured we could go over the finer points.

First of all, Jordan introduced himself as a psychologist when the show started. The reason that this is important is that he brought his profession into the interview so all of his comments on the show were made as a representative of the profession. The Ontario College absolutely has a right to scrutinize his statements he made, as a psychologist representing their profession, on the show.

Jordan made multiple extremely inflammatory comments on the Joe Rogan Experience. He declared that there's "no such thing as climate" despite not having any expertise on the subject as well as declaring that certain people "aren't black".

Naturally, this was a complete embarrassment for the psychological community and if his Rogan appearance contributed to the courts decision, I can see why.

06:11, Jordan Peterson: "And by the way, on the climate front, just that everyone is crystal clear on this. I think the climate models that are used to justify the encroaching tyranny planned are 100 percent untrustworthy."

Note how Jordan doesn't have any evidence for this. Like fellow Daily Wire grifter Matt Walsh, most of Jordan's arguments boil down to "because I said so". Why is science fake? Because Jordan said so and something about WEF conspiracies. Jordan has no evidence for what he's saying besides his feelings.

06:26, Jordan Peterson: "And I think that the notion that we should let people terrify us to death with notions of an impending climate apocalypse so that we have to be locked down in every possible manner. Give up our automobiles, give up our flights private or otherwise, give up our right to buy clothing, give up our right to eat, give up our right to keep grandma warm or cool in the summer lets say. It's like, no. Sorry. No, wrong in every possible way."

Who is saying that we give up all of these things? Sure, we are making changes but notice how none of that stuff has been banned nor has anybody suggested that we ban any of it.

Lets us the example of flights that Jordan brought up. Lets say that "they" tried to ban flights. There's absolutely no way that the airline industry would let that fly, pun intended. In 2023 alone the airline industry sunk $26.11 million dollars into lobbying. This is concerning for multiple reasons that I'm not going to get into, at least not in this episode, but it displays a trend of the airlines having considerable sway in American politics.

Some of these make even less sense. "The right to eat?" What does that even mean? Is he talking about limiting beef consumption? Because that's different than just flat-out eating. The right to keep grandma warm or cool? Again, hard to know what he's talking about since nobody has banned heating in buildings.

07:18, Jordan Peterson: "And, you know, you ask me how I'm doing. It's like, this didn't really come as a surprise so I'd already prepared for it."

Oh yeah, I forgot that this is all a response to what is basically "how are you?" This has been a four minute answer to "how are you?" and he's still going.

Is this how he responds to every question?

"Hey Jordan, can you please pass the salad?"

"THE WOKE MOB IS AFTER ME AND CLIMATE ISN'T REAL!!!!"

07:34, Jordan Peterson: "To some degree, we're gonna see what good we can make arise from this. And if this my opportunity to expose the machinations of the radical-left narcissistic resentful woke mob then bring it on boys."

Here's the thing about Jordan Peterson, he is basically a walking talking point. He just threw out every single right-wing talking point against the left onto the table and sat back as if he said something profound.

Isn't this guy supposed to be the rights intellectual powerhouse or something? I mean, I will admit that this is the only full Jordan Peterson produced video I have watched so maybe I caught him on a bad day, but so far I'm not seeing it at all.

07:55, Jordan Peterson: "We saw what happened to Claudine Gay, we saw what happened to UPenn. If the good people at the Ontario College of Psychologists think they're immune to such things, they have another thing coming."

"You were mean to me so I'm gonna get my big strong friends to go after you. How does that sound, huh?!" What is Jordan? 7?!

The ironic thing is that Jordan is doing exactly what he just accused the left of doing. He's essentially threatened to send the right-wing mob after the governing body of the Ontario College of Psychologists because they're telling him that he's not allowed to have his license while also being an idiot on the internet. Yet apparently we are the mob. Hard to reconcile with that.

08:20, Jordan Peterson: "Now they are definitely planning to do that because the rule is I have to be educated by people of their choice, at my expense, for whatever length of time they deem suitable until, by their standards I've learned whatever the hell lesson I'm supposed to learn. I can't even imagine what that lesson would be. It's like, don't tweet, don't speak, don't think, don't tell my clients the truth."

I love how Jordan can't even comprehend not being an asshole on the internet. For him, tweeting and speaking are intertwined with being a bigoted moron.

Also, he hasn't had "clients" for years. Unless he considers everybody who follows him on Twitter and watches his show to be a client. Am I a client now because I watched this?

09:04, Jordan Peterson: "So I'm set up for failure and my detractors will say 'Well, Dr Peterson you set yourself up for failure.' You know, whatever. But um-"

Mikhaila Peterson: "Those are the beetles I was referring to" (Mikhaila made a joke early in the episode that Jordan's detractors have the IQ of a beetle)

I prefer scarab myself.

09:28, Jordan Peterson: "You know, so much of it's preposterous. One of the things I asked the college, they never answered, I asked them forty questions in a letter of this level of impossibility. So one of them was 'So, you go out about a dozen of complaints, maybe they go out to like seventeen complaints and decided to proceed to thirteen, something like that, from people from all over the world detailing my crimes as we discussed.' Many of those complainants claimed falsely in writing to be clients of mine by the way, which didn't invalidate their opinions. None of them, just to be clear about this, none of them were clients of mine or knew clients of mine or were anyone I commented about on Twitter or knew anyone I commented about on Twitter, so we wanna be clear about that."

I can see why this was an impossible question that the College couldn't answer. You know why? Because it wasn't a question! It was just Jordan rambling for one minute.

Also, lets zero in on Jordans definition of what a client is because it is deeply confusing. Just two minutes ago, Jordan was saying that he was telling his clients the truth by posting on Twitter. So are his clients only people on Twitter who like what he has to say? I guess I'm not a client after all. Shame.

Just a reminder that we're still on "how are you?"

10:35, Jordan Peterson: "What's the consequence of losing my license? Well it's annoying because those are hard licenses to get and I worked very hard to earn and deserve that license and to maintain it."

I love how his main argument is basically "this annoys me and I still waaaannnnnttt iiitttt."

Jordan Peterson, again the intellectual powerhouse of the Conservative Movement, is acting like a child who thinks he has a right to act like an asshole and have the entire world bend over backwards to serve him. Next thing you know he's gonna threaten to hold his breath until the Ontario College Of Psychologists tells him he doesn't have to take the social media training.

10:47, Jordan Peterson: "And also very hard at being a good therapist, which I was. There were no complaints taken against me by anyone until I became known in the public sphere, so that's a good thing to consider."

This is ridiculous. So because there were no complaints taken against Jordan during his time as a therapist years and years ago, we are just supposed to ignore everything he's done since then?

That's like saying "Oh, I know I have a degree in law, haven't practiced law in years, and have made a name for myself by making disgusting statements about minorities. But you shouldn't take away my license to practice law because none of my clients lodged complaints against me when I was working as a lawyer."

11:20, Jordan Peterson: "At some point I'm going to determine that being a member of their pathetic little, incestuous, ideologically addled, resentment ridden, bureaucratic, micro-souled club, is not worth the effort."

Translation: "Oh yeah? Well I didn't want to be in your stupid club anyway!"

Seriously, when people tell me that Jordan Peterson is this intellectual powerhouse are they talking about the same guy? Am I being punked or something?!

12:14, Jordan Peterson: "When you bring them your 13 year old daughter who's in major distress. Who is so concerned about her body that she's thinking about sterilizing herself and having her breasts removed and your psychologist isn't gonna be able to do anything except lie to you that it's alright. How's that gonna go for ya?"

13 year old girls aren't given surgeries and puberty blockers are FDA approved medications that are completely reversible, far from sterilization. These puberty blockers have been shown to reduce suicidal ideation in the youth who receive them. It's pretty disgraceful that Jordan, a psychologist, is either unaware or willfully ignorant of these facts.

13:08, Jordan Peterson: "We'll play out this farce to it's end and I'll do that in the faith that if I conduct myself with a certain degree of honor and care that the results won't be precisely what my would be enemies would intend."

Honor and care = throwing a hissy fit on the internet apparently.

13:27, Mikhaila Peterson: "Yeah, this is worse--luckily you're in a position where this isn't gonna crush you but if this happened to somebody who didn't have multiple streams of income, what would they do? They'd just be re-educated and lie I suppose. Or quit."

I guess we are done with "how are you" now. I almost forgot that this video was built on the pretense of Mikhaila "interviewing" Jordan.

The thing about this argument that I've heard from Jordan and his ilk time and time again is that it ignores the massive scale difference between Jordan and your average psychologist.

Jordan has a massive platform and as a result his opinions are amplified. Considering the fact that he refers to himself as a psychologist, those views as a result become representative of the psychological community. Keep in mind that Jordan is operating in a profession dedicated to mental health, naturally having a psychologist running around sprouting harmful misinformation about transgender people (among other things) reflects poorly on the profession. Your average psychologist doesn't have that platform and, more rudimentarily, doesn't share Jordan's disgusting and oft bizarre views. Jordan Peterson isn't like you or me, he's a millionaire who has made millions by being a conservative media grifter and is now facing the consequences of his actions.

And do you think Jordan Peterson cares about the free speech of transgender people? Women? Hell no he doesn't! It would be a mistake to get roped in by his free speech warrior schtick because those are rules for thee and not for me.

14:26, Jordan Peterson: "Amy Hamm, the nurse in British Columbia, they've tortured her to death and she was very afraid of them and she's come out swinging again. So, you know, she's got some spine, that girl."

I had never heard of this "Amy Hamm" person before. Jordan later says that she "got in trouble for insisting that there's a biological difference between men and women" which automatically got that transphobe alarm ringing. So, who is Amy Hamm and what happened?

Amy Hamm is a nurse in British Columbia who got into hot water for making bigoted comments on social media about transgender people. Some of these lovely statements include "we have eyeballs and we will continue to use them to misgender you." and that "trans women are men". Essentially, she's a bigoted troll attempting to gain attention by targeting a vulnerable minority group. Also, tortured her to death is so ridiculously melodramatic.

Outside of the fact that it's a profitable and trendy thing to go after in the griftosphere, I don't get why these people care so much about transgender people. They just want to live their lives like you and me and aren't hurting anybody. What's going on with the right and trans people is pure unabridged bigotry.

Jordan rambles a bit more and it's more of the same stuff he said previously. It's not great but that's why we have the time skip. He complains a little about the CBC and I have already delved a little into that when I first checked in on Ezra Levant.

19:19, Jordan Peterson: "I don't have anything to lose. The worst they can do, and this is what they'll do, is they'll take my license and then I'll be known by those who wish to foster enmity against me as now disgraced psychologist Jordan Peterson."

Oh, trust me, Jordan isn't just now disgraced. He got there when he became addicted to benzos (which by the way is another reason why he arguably shouldn't have a license) and then proceeded to go to Russia to do an extremely medically dubious treatment in order to overcome his addiction.

Also, this video really flies in the face of a lot of Jordan's rules for life. In this video he hasn't taken responsibility for his actions (rule #4 in Twelve More Rules For Life) and he has absolutely gone down the road of arrogance and resentment (rule #11 in Twelve More Rules For Life). Rules for thee, not for me.

19:59, Jordan Peterson: "There's a reason that people 11 million copies of my book. The reason they bought 11 million copies of 12 Rules For Life was that they found it helpful, like psychologically helpful, which was it's purpose."

I normally wouldn't include this kind of quote but I feel like I need to address the fact that Jordan probably has made a positive impact on some peoples lives.

If you are reading this and Jordan Peterson has made a positive impact on your life, I am not here to discredit you or call you a bigot or any of that, as a matter of fact I am happy that you managed to turn your life around for the better and I wish you the best going forward. What you've got to understand though is that there are far better sources of the same common sense advice that Jordan touts in his books and lectures. Jordan has ideas around females and LGBTQ+ people that are genuinely harmful and will only serve to harm you if you embrace them. If you still need Jordan Peterson, go ahead and continue to watch his lectures and whatnot but heed my warning. The alt-right pipeline is a genuinely dangerous thing that I am trying to combat on this blog and Jordan is an easy way to enter it. Tread carefully and please do your own research.

Jordan talks about how he's going to stay in Canada and then an ad is inserted into the middle of the video. Not by YouTube mind you, by the Daily Wire. Ben's still gotta get his cash out of this! There's not really any content in this video at all. It's just Jordan switching between complaining and gloating.

26:20, Jordan Peterson: "I don't have a university, but I'm building one. That's kind of interesting"

OK, so what he's talking about here is Peterson Academy. It seems like it's essentially PragerU only more expensive.

31:01, Jordan Peterson: "When reality comes knocking, you're a fool if you turn away regardless of what it is. And it's the same thing now, this looks like bad news and it's certainly bad news for other professionals and I think Canadian professionals who aren't woke themselves and don't have their heads in the sand and their nether regions fully exposed for exploitation, lets say!"

Gotta sneak the transphobia in. So, I guess Jordan Peterson doesn't like trans people having jobs, shocker.

You are entitled to your opinions but you aren't entitled to be a divisive troll about them on social media because your employer might see that. We've lived in that reality for years and I find it absolutely bizarre that conservatives seem to be just figuring this out now.

33:47, Jordan Peterson: "I have some of the abilities of Cassandra. Cassandra was a seer who was fated to be entirely accurate in her predictions, her torture was that no one ever listened to her. So I don't have that problem because people do listen to me but I do have some ability to see down the road to where things are going."

"Yeah, I'm like Cassandra but BETTER. By the way, don't be arrogant."

I feel like that's a fitting end for this episode. Nothing particularly interesting happens in the last couple minutes. Just more of Jordan and Mikhaila rambling about politics and how the "woke moralists" are coming to get you.

Conclusion:

Well, I started writing this before the border stuff exploded so that's next on the chopping block, but seeing Jordan Peterson throwing a shit fit on the internet is certainly a nice break from the more serious topics covered here, at least hopefully for you guys.

Cheers and I'll see you in the next one.

[irkenarcadia]

Greetings!

Behold! Ouroboros! He belongs to my OC Csar (my old IZ OC from way back when, but was “Tallest Czar”…voming my insides out from memory cringe)…but he is also perfect as an introductory post if you understand the symbolism…

I like to dabble in doodles…my imagination is a speshul place.

Thanks for @khaliarart for directing me to the font!

TLDR: A pinned post.

Tags:

My Art

Irken Arcadia AU

More long winded babbling under the cut.

I draw crazy stuff and am currently becoming invested in my old Love of IZ and Irkens…but I also just love Aliens and Monsters and Dark Fantasy and stuff I can’t post here anymore. Sad face emoji.(Yes, I DID write that out…🙃)

My style is wild and wacky. I’ve been told it’s feral; I just like exaggerated expressions, teeth, claws…other “stuff.” Perfect to mutilate characters with.

I have a lot of characters that span from many other things I used to be into so…they are being transmuted for the Irken Empire I guess. Or whatever horrible manifestation of it I’ve created as my AU…dur dur.

That being said; I’m getting my doodle hand back up and going but probably a lot of sketches and other nonsense because reasons.

I work full time and hide a lot so I’m apologizing ahead of time that I’m not super sociable. I’m old…uh yeah…my excuse.

Been a long while since I’ve used Tumblr at all; let alone bothered to post art so for the time being…here we are.

I’ve become reclusive in my older years, haha…

I’ve recently dipped my toes back into IZ; though mostly the Irkens and their Empire which I’ve morphed into some screwed up AU of mine that crossovers a few of my past story concepts and characters from other fandoms that will blend with my other love which is Philosophy, Depth Psychology and watching the World burn through Decadence. Nietzsche would be proud…

It’s like IZ meets Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” and the Roman Empire but incredibly stupid but also probably really adulterated because I’m terrible. Mirroring the stupid corruption of Humanity is fun and depressing to me.🥲

I’ll probably add more as I go along and post stuff; I know there appears to be a lot of other AU business going on with other folks but I don’t creep that hard and have no idea how the fandom is compared to how it was circa 2001. Ugh I was in highschool then…😬

Was a big fan/part of the IZ fandom when it first aired…the Irony of it returning to me now some 20 years later is hilarious since it played a big part in my art style development with extreme expressions. Big thanks to @khaliarart for popping that balloon in my tired brain but it’s nice to be inspired again. PLEASE STAY INSPIRATION!!

ANYWAY! I’ll be posting my art, my horrible OCs, and other stuff probably…

I will also state if you’ve made it this far; kudos.

Some things:

I don’t do requests. Art trades are tentative but not open right now unless I know you.

Commissions are touchy but I may open them up if I keep at it. I’ll post if so.

I don’t RP. I used to LOVE it but I work full time and live REAL LIFE so it’s something I can’t distract my Self with. RIP

I’d like to think I’m pretty friendly but I’m very aloof; I just put this down honestly just in case I get chatted at and don’t answer. Social Media is a strange beast for me now a days - if you really wanna try and get a hold of me I guess poketh.

And that’s that unless I add more later.

G’day!

[mariaiscrafting]

no, you know what, I’m going to stop vague’ing on the dash. my anger is about to get extremely direct and enraged, so fair warning, but I don’t care about anyone’s comfort right now. I’m going to get fucking mad, and you all will fucking deal.

not a single one of us has the right, or should even have the option, to guess about ccs’ sexualities. I’ve kept my mouth shut when it comes to people analyzing george/dream and guessing they’re some kind of queer, but I’m fucking done. I’m going to go into every single reason “truthing” about ccs’ sexualities is just so beyond fucked.

first of all, this is in response specifically to ranboo and tubbo truthing. being a kid and getting thrown into such a massive spotlight, where you will undoubtedly be subject to some fuck shit eventually because the internet is full of thousands upon thousands of people, is already terrifying and anxiety-inducing and damaging enough. but for their own audiencemembers - their own supposed fucking “fans” - to take it one step further and speculate about their sexualities? oh, for the love of god. I can barely believe I even have to explain how fucked that is. it is one thing to be friends with or close to someone in real life and recognize your own queer struggle in them, to approach them with sympathy and support in case they are questioning. it is another thing entirely to speculate about the sexuality of someone you don’t even know, and to then take it a step further and “truth” about your fucking theories. you are not an expert, you are not their friend, and you are not a fucking oracle. you can guess all you want about a cc’s sexuality, you can comment on how their actions or behaviors or words resonate with you when you were questioning or closeted, but to go ahead and take your own speculation as truth is arrogant, presumptous, and damaging as all hell. 

I can just imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d grown an online platform that ripped me of my privacy when I was a teenager and trying to figure out my own sexuality. if I had a section of my audience analyzing my every social media post, the inflection in my voice and the nature of my laughs, my every interaction with my best friend, you know what I would’ve done? retreated so far into the closet that I would probably have tricked myself into thinking I was heterosexual. I would’ve been so fucking terrified and felt so stripped of any privacy or control I had over my own goddamn thoughts; do you understand how fucking vile that is? have none of you ever been terrified of giving away your own sexuality through your mannerisms and facial expressions and words, while you were closeted? have none of you ever experienced that utter fucking terror when you notice someone start to question your sexuality, the immediate urge to retreat and back up and act and believe the complete opposite just to prove them wrong and go back to the safety and security of them believing you were straight? for fuck’s sake, now imagine that feeling amplified a hundred fold, applied not just to one instance or one person in your life, but to thousands. do y’all not understand just how a) morally fucked it is to inflict this same kind of practice onto someone you supposedly care about and support, and b) potentially psychologically damaging this could be to ccs who are closeted, especially the fucking minors? oh my fucking god.

that isn’t even to point out why people do this shit - which is to project and find solace and derive some kind of enjoyment out of cc’s. that’s what cc’s are there for; they are entertainers, first and foremost, which continues outside of streams and bleeds into fandom culture and the kind of enjoyment fans can make out of interacting with other fans and creating their own fan content. the problem with this fact is that fans take it too far, like 85% of the time. cc’s aren’t just there for our own enjoyment. they are fucking people, oh my lord. they are real people that we will never know, and while we may have our fun with our little theories and talking to other fans and making and watching cute compilations and writing fanfiction and making fanart, we are just deriving entertainment from the parts of themselves they choose to show us. that persona they put on for the stream, that is not 100% them. they are real, rounded, 3-d, full people who we only ever get the privilege of witnessing a small sliver of. and we need to fucking remember that, because we can’t just keep running with the ideas of ccs that we have in our heads and treating them like they’re malleable characters for our own entertainment. 

anyways, specifically about truthing (and mind you, this is the point in the rant where a little of my anger starts to seep out because I’m tired and it’s 1:40 AM and I have class tomorrow): there’s so many things that can be said about gaydar. I’m not here to argue whether or not it exists, or the details of the morality of straight versus non-straight people engaging in the practice of truthing. I’m just here to say that, even if you believe gaydar exists and can be accurate when employed by non-straight people, that still only applies to people you fucking know. what you see of a cc is not “getting to know” them. what you are seeing is one face of a multi-faceted jewel, cut in far more ways that you can ever hope to one day perceive. your theories are just those - theories. whatever you might think of the giggles you heard or the pickup lines you saw uttered or the softness you imagine between x and y, human interaction is far too complex and laced with meaning for some rando on the internet who watches youtube videos and twitch streams to fully grasp from two entertainers working from behind a screen. your gaydar is not going to fucking work through a screen, fuck off with that shit.

another thing that’s fucking bothering me so much is this assumption that comes with being at all open about queerness when you yourself are not queer. ik this is just one of the many factors “truthers” use to justify the findings of their totally infallible, prophetic gaydar, but it’s a factor nonetheless, and it bothers the fuck outta me. someone being willing to express support for lgbt people or donate to lgbt chairities or open to conversations with other lgbt people about lgbt endeavors is not evidence of queerness. to say that it is contributes to the harmful belief that cishets still have that they cannot be any of those things - that is, exceedingly open about and to queerness - without being perceived as queer themselves. 

anyways, and now we are at the bottom line, which is that, this entire conversation wouldn’t even have to be had if people just fucking listened to cc boundaries. ranboo and tubbo do not like being shipped. it is that fucking simple. i know that it is tempting to ship two people you think are cute together. i know it is tempting to indulge in a dynamic you find comforting. but idgaf. temptation is not an excuse. find some fictional characters to ship, and kindly fuck off.

[song-of-oots]

Fuchsia Groan: my (un)exceptional fave

A while ago a friend of mine was asking for people to name their favourite examples of strong female characters, and my mind immediately leapt to Gormenghast’s Fuchsia Groan because it always does whenever the words “favourite” and “female character” come up in the same sentence. In fact scratch that, if I had to pick only one character to be my official favourite (female or otherwise) it would probably be Fuchsia. There are not sufficient words in the English language to accurately describe how much I love this character.

The issue was that I’m not sure Fuchsia Groan can accurately be described as “strong”, and until my friend asked the question, it hadn’t even occurred to me to analyse her in those terms… 

Actually this isn’t completely true; Mervyn Peake does describe Fuchsia as strong in terms of her physical strength on multiple occasions. But in terms of her mental strength things are less clear cut. She’s certainly not a total pushover, and anyone would probably find it tough-going to cope with the neglect, tragedy and misuse she suffers through. In fact, this is something Mervyn Peake mentions himself – whilst also pointing out that Fuchsia is not the most resilient of people:

“There were many causes [to her depression], any one of which might have been alone sufficient to undermine the will of tougher natures than Fuchsia’s.”

Anyway, this has gotten me thinking about Fuchsia’s other traits and my reasons for loving her, going through a typical sort of list of reasons people often give for holding up a character as someone to admire:

So, is Fuchsia particularly talented?

No.

Is she clever, witty?

She’s definitely not completely stupid, and her insights occasionally take other characters by surprise, but she’s not really that smart either.

Does she have any significant achievements? Overcome great adversity?

Not really, no.

Is she kind?

Yes. Fuchsia is a very loving person and sometimes displays an incredible sensitivity and compassion for others. But… she can also be self-absorbed, highly strung, and does occasionally lash out at other people (especially in her younger years).

So why do I love Fuchsia so much?

Well, I’ll start be reiterating that I don’t really have the vocabulary to adequately put it into words, but I will try to get the gist across. So:

“What Fuchsia wanted from a picture was something unexpected. It was as though she enjoyed the artist telling her something quite fresh and new. Something she had never thought of before.”

This statement summarises not only Fuchsia but also the way I feel about her (and for that matter the Gormenghast novels in general). Fuchsia is something I’ve never really seen before. On the surface, she fits the model of the somewhat spoiled but neglected princess, and yet at the same time she cannot be so neatly pigeon-holed. It’s not just that her situation and the themes of the story make things more complex (though that is a factor); Fuchsia herself is so unique and vividly detailed that she manages to be more than her archetype. She feels like a real person and, like all real people, she is not so easy to label.

Fuchsia is also delightfully strange in a way that feels very authentic to her and the setting in general (which is particularly refreshing because it can all too often feel as though female characters are only allowed to be strange in a kooky, sexy way - yet Fuchsia defies this trend).

She’s a Lady, but she’s not ladylike. She’s messy. She slouches, mooches, stomps and stands in awkward positions. Her drawing technique is “vicious” and “uncompromising”. She chews grass. She removes her shoes “without untying the laces by treading on the heels and then working her foot loose”. She’s multi-faceted and psychologically complex. Intense and self-absorbed, sometimes irrational and ruled by her emotions more than is wise, but also capable of insight and good sense that takes others by surprise. She is extremely loving and affectionate, and yet so tragically lonely. Simultaneously very feminine and also not. Her character development from immature teenager to adult woman is both subtle and believable. She has integrity and decency – she doesn’t need to be super clever or articulate to know how to care for others or stand up for herself.

Fuchsia is honest. She knows her own flaws, but you never catch her trying to put on airs or make herself out to be anything other than what she is. She always expresses her feelings honestly.

She’s not sexualised at all. I don’t mean by this that she has no sexuality – though that’s something Peake only vaguely touches on – but I don’t really feel like I’m looking at a character who was written to pander to the male gaze (though her creator is male, I get the vibe he views her more as a beloved daughter than a sexual object).

Finally, I find her highly relatable. I am different to Fuchsia in many ways, but we do have several things in common that I have never seen so vividly expressed in any other character. This was incredibly important to me when I was a teenager struggling through the worst period of depression I ever experienced – because she was someone who I could relate to and love in a way I was incapable of loving myself. Her ability to be herself meant a lot to me as someone struggling with my own identity and sense of inadequacy. It didn’t cure my depression, but it helped me survive it.

What am I trying to say with all this?

I love Fuchsia on multiple levels. I love her as a person and also as a character and a remarkable piece of writing. I mention some of the mundane details Peake uses to flesh out her character firstly because I enjoy them, but also because it’s part of the point. Her story amazes me because it treats a female character and her psychological and emotional life with an intense amount of interest regardless of any special talents or achievements she happens to exhibit. She doesn’t fit the model of a modern heroine but neither does she need to – she’s still worth spending time with and caring about.*  To me the most important things about Fuchsia are how different and interesting and relatable she is – and how real she feels.

* To be honest, this is part of the point of the Gormenghast novels in general. The story is meant to illustrate the damage that society – and in particular rigid social structures and customs – can do to individuals with its callous indifference to genuine human need. Fuchsia is one of many examples of this throughout the novels. These characters don’t need to be exceptionally heroic in order to matter – they just need to exist as believable people. And despite how strange they all are, they often do manage to be fundamentally relatable.

Why am I talking about female characters in particular here?

The focus on “strong” female characters and the critique against that is pretty widely acknowledged. Growing up, I definitely noticed the lack of female characters in popular media and the ensuing pressure this then places on the ones that do exist to be positive representations of womankind – someone girls can look up to. It’s very understandable that we want to see more examples of admirable female protagonists, given that women were traditionally left to play support roles and tired stereotypes. The problem is that the appetite for more proactive female heroines can sometimes lead to characters who are role models first and realistic human beings second (characters who I mentally refer to as Tick-All-The-Boxes Heroines). It’s not a problem with “strong” proactive heroines per se, but rather lack of variation and genuine psychological depth (not to mention a sometimes too-narrow concept of what it even means to be strong).

Male characters tend not to have this particular problem because they are much better represented across the whole range of roles within a story. You get your fair share of boring worn out archetypes. You get characters who are meant to represent a positive version of heroic masculinity (and now that I come to think of it, having a very narrow and unvarying presentation of what positive masculinity looks like is its own separate problem, but outside the scope of this particular ramble). We don’t usually spend time obsessing over whether a piece of fiction has enough examples of “strong” male characters though, because we’re generally so used to seeing it that we automatically move on into analysing the work and the characters on other terms. And because there are often more male characters than female, they don’t all bear the burden of having to be a positive representative of all men everywhere. They exist to fulfill their roles, and often exhibit more variety, nuance and psychological depth. They are also often allowed to be weird, flawed and unattractive in ways that women usually aren’t (which is a damn shame because I’ve spent my whole life feeling like a weird outsider and yet this perspective is so often told primarily through a male lens).

Tl:dr; Fuchsia Groan is a character who feels like an answer to so many of those frustrations that I felt growing up without even truly understanding why. A large part of why I love her is simply because of how much I relate to her on a personal level. I admire her emotional honesty and her loving nature… But there’s also a part of me that was just so relieved to find a female character who exists outside of the usual formulae we seem to cram women into. She is unique, weird and wonderful (but non-sexualised). Psychologically nuanced and vividly written. She isn’t exceptionally heroic or talented or a high achiever – but she does feel like a real person.

Female characters don’t need to tick all the right boxes in order to be interesting or worth our time any more than the male ones do.

[yyuangss-main]

❝chapter one❞

“A letter?”

“Yes, it’s in a red envelope and has your name on the front.” Sugawara gave a perplexed look at his laptop while sending in an assignment. “I made sure your mother didn’t open it. You should come pick it up later today if you can.”

“But, why wouldn’t they mail it to my apartment?” Sugawara set aside his laptop. “Will you still be at home around four?” Sugawara heard his father continue rambling about how it was Sunday and he knew they never went out. Sugawara rolled his eyes with a playful smile.

“Come pick it up or I’ll give it to your mom.” And the line went dead. The grey haired male wasted no time getting dressed and taking the bus to his parents house. “Ah, finally. It’s on the table.” Suga’s dad opened the door, letting his son into the house.

“I don’t see the problem with me opening it.” Sugawara’s mom was in the kitchen. The sound of plates clattering led him to believe she was cooking something. “I’m only curious to know what’s in it.” Suga’s dad rolled his eyes, making his way into the kitchen where he began bickering that it was delivered for Suga.

“Hi Mom.” Sugawara gave a bright smile to his mother. “Where’s the letter?” She dried her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Her fingers picked up the edge of the letter and extended it to her son.

“Do you need any money for the way back?” She moved some strands of hair out of her face.

“No, I’m fine.” Sugawara examined the letter. The pretty lettering of his name stretched over the front. Sugawara gave a sweet smile to his parents, “Be careful. I’ll try coming over this weekend. Maybe we can go out to eat.” His mother patted his cheek softly and sent him on his way out.

On the way back home, Suga wondered what it could contain. An invite to a birthday? Can’t be. His friends all know where he lives. One of those letters of his past self? Man, it’s about time the high school teachers mail them. When did they get into red envelopes though?

Arriving back at his apartment, Sugawara tore open the flap carefully. Once it was all ripped, his slim fingers pulled out a folded sheet in it. He dumped the envelope on his kitchen counter, flipping the colorful sheet open.

Dear Koushi Sugawara,

You were the sun setting after a long day at the beach. Your eyes sparkled like those luminescent rays scattering across the water’s surface, their depth as fathomless as the ocean floor. You always radiate warmth, like the sun beaten sand beneath bare feet. I had never met someone who immediately made me feel at home, until I met you.

Running into you on campus was a blessing I never could have anticipated. I was lost, literally and figuratively, and you showed me the right path. Listening to you tell me the real truths behind university life was so raw and honest. It was everything I needed at that moment. You were everything I needed at that moment. Love at first sight was always a silly concept to me, until I met you. Our time together may have been brief, but you stole a piece of my heart that day.

Thank you for helping me to grow. For showing me the endless possibilities that awaited me if I would only reach out to grasp them.

For sharing your warmth with me.

Your wild campus encounter,

(Y/N) (L/N)

Sugawara flicked at the paper when he reached the bottom.

“(Y/N)! She came on tour last year and told me she’d gotten lost!” Sugawara smiled at the memory. Sugawara did his best to comfort the girl and help find her tour group. “How is she doing?” A giant smile stayed on his face as he re read the letter. Suga placed an elbow on the counter, leaning his chin into his palm.

Reading the letter had him in a trance.

Love at first sight was always a silly concept to me, until I met you.

‘I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t the same case for you.’ Suga laughed to himself. ‘Might’ve been the only reason why I stopped to help.’ All his unanswered questions flew out the window when the memory of meeting (Y/N) came back. Suga’s phone beeped, making him jolt to check the notification.

Daichi

We’re here.

Suga hissed, hurrying out of the kitchen to open the door. Suga rubbed his nape sheepishly at the sight of Daichi and Kuroo’s arms crossed who gave him a look.

“I completely forgot you guys were coming. I went out earlier to my parents place.” Suga said, closing the door after the two males.

“Maybe you’re just in love.” Kuroo remarked with a grin and entered the kitchen. Suga’s breath hitched, mind roaming back to the letter, “They say people lose weight and daydream when they’re in love.” Kuroo closed the fridge when taking out a water bottle. Daichi shook his head, clearly tired of his antics.

“Ha ha. You make me laugh.”

“Huh?” Kuroo picked up the letter, causing Sugawara’s eyes to widen. “I got one like this this morning. Hey, you know (Y/N) too?” Kuroo held the love letter up, talking to Suga. Daichi’s eyebrows raised.

“I’m starting to feel jealous of not getting one.” Daichi input, getting Kuroo’s water bottle thrown at him.

“Well, uh… It’s complicated.” Suga shrugged. “I met her last year when she was on tour.” Kuroo examined the letter, turning it around to see nothing on the back.

“Yeah, I met her during the summer. Hella cute.” Kuroo grinned again, scanning the letter up and down. “Glad she’s doing good.”

“Do you… Know anything about her?”

“Oh yeah. She’s single. Actually, she goes to your university. She graduated from Hakone Academy.” Kuroo came from the kitchen, retrieving his bottle from Daichi. “That’s all I know. Why? Thinking of going for her?” Kuroo nudged Daichi on his side.

“Shouldn’t you do that to him?” Daichi pointed to Suga.

“Hey Suga,” Kuroo ignored Daichi’s comment, “Path’s open for you. I’m balancing between work and school. I won’t be mad or hurt or anything.” Kuroo brought the bottle to his lips.

“Yeah. Fine by me.” Suga sighed.

Sugawara grabbed the envelope and letter, walking to his room. He put the letter back into the envelope and stared at it. Prior to meeting you, he never ceased thinking that he missed a chance. Suga placed the letter on his bed.

‘I won’t miss this chance.’

Kuroo’d given him your social media, told him you had class at eight for Monday’s. Daichi commented on how that made Kuroo sound like a stalker.

Suga had classes at eight for Monday’s as well. Tomorrow, he will try and find you.

His eyes scanned the crowd thoroughly.

And the quick look away from you after he found you made him slip around the crowded walkway. Suga noticed you picked up your speed, making him laugh to himself. Thankfully, his athletic background from high school came back and he found himself grabbing your shoulder. You whipped around, surprised when he reached into the pocket of his jacket.

He pulled out the red envelope.

“Seems like these things are just flying around, huh?” Sugawara’s grey eyes smiled. Between his pointer and middle finger, Sugawara waved the letter in a teasing way. You stayed silent, letting out small muttering noises. “I didn’t imagine receiving one.” He put his hand down by his side.

“What do you mean flying around?” You asked. “And where did you get that?” You resisted snatching the letter and burning it. Sugawara let out a laugh and stashed the letter safely in his backpack.

“It was mailed back to my parent’s home. I picked it up yesterday.” He said. “By flying around I meant… Does the name Tetsurou Kuroo ring a bell?”

No. Please tell me he’s not friends with the lifeguard. There’s no way a guy like Koushi Sugawara could know someone like Tetsurou Kuroo.

“If it did?” You huffed, watching the corners of his lips curl into a smile. “How would you know him?” Suga snickered.

“I know, it’s weird isn’t it? You wouldn’t expect me to be friends with a guy like him.” You shook your head with a no. “I met him through one of his coworkers. My friend Daichi works as a lifeguard with him. They came by my apartment yesterday and Kuroo saw the letter.” You grimaced.

Daichi was the other lifeguard that had a flock of teenage girls and adult women trying to impress him. Suga definitely had a weird choice in friends.

“Sorry, it’s a dumb letter.” You rubbed your temples. It really is a small world we live in. “I can take it back if you want.”

“No, I don’t find it dumb at all.” Suga scratched by the mole under the corner of his eye, “It intrigued me. I didn’t know I impacted you that much. We’d only spoken for a couple of minutes that day. Anyways, it was enough for me to get the courage and talk to you.”

You tilted your head, noticing he wasn’t done talking.

“Had to figure out a few things though. Like if you were dating or interested in a date.” Suga’s cheeks flushed, his eyes darting to the cement to not make eye contact. Suga stumbled on his next words, “Basically, I wanna get to know you more. Do you have a class now?” Your heart pounded against your chest. Remind yourself to thank your psychology professor for not having classes on Mondays.

“No. Do you?” Sugawara’s face brightened.

“That’s great! I don’t have one until eleven. Wanna come with me and get something to eat?” You did skip out on breakfast this morning, rushing out to not miss class.

“Okay.” Sugawara gave an excited smile, proudly presenting it on his face to you.

“Great. It’s nearby so we’ll only need to walk. I’m sure you’ll like it (L/N).”

❝Koushi Sugawara is one out of fifteen to receive your love letter. Unlike the rest, he decides to talk to you and try to build a relationship. Will you allow him or will the embarrassment of the love letter get in the way?❞

TAGLIST CONTINUES IN THE COMMENTS

Taglist: @heykoutarou @the-writing-otaku @avbreyissad @elianetsantana @tetsujime @ne-kuroo @restricted-illusion @kac-chowsballs @bokuakadaily @kweenregent @justatempo @aksteldesu @kellesvt @luckypartyranchmug @london-quynh @humanitysbiggestsimp @daniella-uwu @kitababie @omigogames @sleep3deprived @melialeic @cafetetsu @vicassa @chibishae34 @timeturnerss @mariachiiii @dearestsuna @spaceboitrash @haikyuusugasuga @tsukisemi @atsumubabe @cadenceh2o @hawkssnugget @dabilove27 @hikari-writes @shibayamasbae @isleofnajera @thathoneybee3 @uncleirohsbobbatea @shinhiromi @greyevangeline @graykageyama @holycometz @mattsuns-prettybaby @fluffymilkbread @rogueofbullshit @turntechsquishy

— Change your mode?

yes. no.

— Continue?

yes. no.

[tartagliaxx]

i'm answering it like this bc i felt like it was too personal to share to the entire world so... hi r anon! this one's for you 😙❤️ if you're not r anon, please don't bother reading. this should have loads of trigger warnings but idk which ones anymore im kinda out of it lol

there are a lot of unexplainable things in this world. like,, for example... i have anxiety and i know for a fact that i have no reason to feel like this but i still feel anxious anyway. just because it defies logic doesn't mean that it's not 'real.' anw, ig what i want to say is... your feelings are valid and your coping mechanism *could* be healthier but your experiences lead to you forming them so i can't say it's 'wrong' either.

first of all, congrats on your oral test! so proud of you, love! second, a human person is designed to evolve and adapt. in this context, there will always be a 'better' but that doesn't mean that we can't celebrate the 'good' of now. it's progress you see and nothing can devalue progress. it just is. personally, i believe that there would never be an 'enough.' we grow by constantly pushing our limits however, pushing our limits is not equal to not taking a break. break isn't something you earn, it's a necessity that you shouldn't deny yourself. you failed a test? take a break and work again after you're rested and maybe things would be better this time. you passed a test? take a break, you deserve it. you've done nothing but you feel tired? take a break. becoming better isn't a race. you could walk or dash depending on your energy and motivation. it's okay. we have our own paces. this is something i'm still working on personally but you don't need to fit in someone's definition of 'better.' not your family's, friends, society's. you just... need to be content with yourself ig? today, i have 3 things planned out but i dont have the energy to do all three so i just did one and i'm happy with that because the me from before wouldn't even try in fear of disappointing myself. today though, i realized that as long as i am making progress, even if that progress is just a millimeter in a mile-long run, i'm content.

i've never thought about harming myself or anything (mostly bc im scared) but im happy that you're getting help. i didn't study psychology so i may not be able to help aside from offering support. i personally don't expect anyone to be perfectly happy and sane all the time but i also cant come clean about my anxieties to my parents bc they think so highly of me. i understand where you're coming from really but my rational side just keeps popping in to yell, you don't have to be guilty for feeling things and being human.

i'm so sorry to hear that you're going through this but... i want to say that i value you and i think you're so strong. i'm not sure what the right thing to say in this situation is but i love you and i'm so proud of you. i'm here if you need me anytime.

also,, no offense but that's bullshit. i could be a millionaire rn and i would still be depressed and anxious and tired. material things do not dictate the mind's state of health. it's not as simple. there are so many factors to take into consideration and just... no. your feelings are valid. you're lucky to have the things that you have, yes, but it just... doesn't connect you know? you're not lucky to be feeling shit, no one is. period.

it's a hard time for you and i sympathize with you. again, if you need me, i'm here. always. i believe in you and i know that we can get through this together. exams be damned, you and your health are more important and anyone who says otherwise is just straight-up wrong. and idk if its just me blindly trying to be optimistic to deal with my own problems but i like to believe that one day, our pain would ease and maybe then, we'll be clear-headed enough to see the true value of things.

don't hesitate to take breaks, dear. be it from studying or social media or writing. do what you think is best for you and your safety. it's your life and your body, you know it best. i hope you feel better soon and please remember to breathe. i love you and i'm grateful for your existence in my life.

[beca-mitchell]

brain is in the back seat (heart's in drive) (1/1)

Summary: Life has a way of not working out like the movies. Not like Beca likes movies anyway. Beca and Chloe’s first kiss.

Word count: 4,125 words.

Fic title from the song "the movies" by Nightly. Part of the daylight au. As always, many thanks to @asimplefavors for letting me cry at you re: this fic which I’ve been sitting on forever. I’m just glad it’s done. 

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: March AGE: 15/16

 * * * * *

 Beca hates movies, so it makes sense that she’s kind of getting the feeling that her life is turning out like one.

After the Winter Formal, Beca kind of just wants things to go back to normal, not that she really has a baseline for that anymore.

It also doesn’t really help that she has to endure Valentine’s Day amidst all her peers. If there’s something people never really grow out of, it’s the excessive gift giving and over-emphasis on the quantity of candy grams received in one’s locker on that specific day.

...And it further didn’t help that Beca had quickly shoved the Valentine’s card she had been planning to give to Chloe into her own locker upon seeing Tom walk down the fall with his arm snugly around Chloe’s shoulder, a small bouquet of roses pressed into her arms. Beca had thought it inappropriate at the time—figured Chloe didn’t need extra Valentines when she was so obviously taken...even though it had been their tradition for years.

And of course, the fact that Chloe hadn’t given her a valentine either. That was telling enough. Not that Beca gave her much reason to, with how much avoiding she had been doing since January.

That February break that follows immediately after is one of the most relaxing breaks Beca has ever experienced. She spends most of it sparsely replying to texts from Chloe and begrudgingly visiting her father and his family for the short break.

It’s the time apart (again) that really only cements that the nauseating feeling in her stomach is because she’s not getting over her feelings for one Chloe Beale anytime soon.

The more selfish part of her—the part entirely consuming her heart—doesn’t really want to give up on her feelings, but the rational part—somewhere between her heart and her head—knows that she’s just setting herself up for more heartbreak, if the Instagram updates from Chloe and Tom are any indication. It’s horrible, really because they’re not even together in person. Beca knows this solely because she knows Chloe’s family takes a trip to Stowe every February break for a ski trip.

It’s like the social media back and forth is just designed to hurt her. The little comments they leave on each other’s photos. The hearts. The inside-joke emojis.

She knows rationally that her thoughts are spiralling and it’s entirely untrue that Chloe would ever want to hurt her purposefully. It’s just that, well, Beca wouldn’t blame her. She knows that her avoidance of Chloe over the past few weeks has been more than obvious and less than desirable.

So when Beca sits down with her father and his new family, the sensation of being replaced never really gets old even if she knows that she has no real right to feel that way. But it’s hard, looking around her and feeling so out of place, and then knowing that when she returns home, the one person who she had always considered the literal embodiment of home is also starting a new segment of her life in which Beca has no real place.

And even sitting in her father’s home in New Haven, she imagines what it would be like to blurt out that she’s in love with her best friend—a girl—simply to see the disdain cross his face like a shadow. It would be enough to make her forget about her current plight. Plus, she’s just so tired of feeling like shit all the time.

She sees it, in all honesty. Like her mind has two screens, she sees the mildly foggy memory of her father saying something disparaging against homosexuality on one screen while the other gleefully rolls imagined footage of Beca sweeping his pretentious dishes off his dining table and declaring her love for her best friend, the very girl she grew up next two for the past eleven years.

Still, as appealing as that sounds and looks, she bites her tongue and listens to her father spout off something about psychology or some other academic topic that Beca has zero interest in. She would normally be texting Chloe, but she just can’t bring herself to pick up the phone.

Chloe doesn’t text her either.

It all sucks.

February break sucks.

She sucks.

Her thoughts follow her all the way back home to the desolate wasteland she calls home (classic Boston-in-February weather) where her mother (shockingly) greets her with a hug and the promise of a sit-down meal. The thought warms her for a moment before Beca remembers that her mom probably just feels guilty without really wanting to do anything. Not even apologize for being absent. Emotionally distant. Neglectful. Beca’s sure the list could go on.

As she sits at the dinner table thinking about a myriad of things floating around her mind in an attempt to distract herself including the dreaded first day back at school, the assignments she should probably work on, seeing Chloe again—

Her fingers twitch towards her phone on instinct.

She draws back with a flinch, resisting the urge to mindlessly text Chloe even though it’s what she wants most in the world at the moment. Quickly, she spares a glance at her mother who hasn’t looked up from her own plate.

With a sigh, Beca furrows her brow and returns to staring sullenly at the table until it is an appropriate enough time to retreat to her room.

The next day passes without incident. Beca decides to walk to school early instead of catching a ride from Chloe’s brother like she normally would. She’s not sure what the point is. Chloe will just figure out a way to corner her later regardless.

Even with that in mind, Beca isn’t expecting to see Chloe sitting on her bed when she opens her bedroom door. In fact, she’s kind of expecting her room to be exactly as she left it that morning before heading out for school—empty, her bed unmade, and cold.

But now—

“What are you doing here?” Beca asks, harsher than she intends. She swallows, willing herself to reign in her emotions as best as she can.

“Your mom let me in,” Chloe says softly. Her palms glide briefly over Beca’s bedspread before she’s pushing herself off the bed and moving awkwardly to the middle of Beca’s bedroom. “I…hope that’s okay?” she asks hesitantly, like she is no longer sure of her place in Beca’s house; in Beca’s life.

Beca steadies her grip on her backpack for a moment before dropping it to the floor unceremoniously. “It’s fine,” she says finally, trying to ignore the way her heart pulls and tugs at the mere sight of Chloe—Chloe, out of her school clothes and wearing comfortable loungewear. Chloe, with her hair down instead of up in a ponytail. Chloe, whose lips are slowly spreading into a hesitant smile. “I just…” Beca blinks, turning to walk to her desk quickly to be safe. Distant. “Why are you here?” she asks again, softer.

“I…” Chloe takes a deep breath, but she thankfully does not seem to move closer to Beca in any capacity. “Are you mad at me?” Chloe asks with a delicate softness that only makes Beca’s heart ache more.

In her mind’s eye, she plays out the variety of expressions Chloe could possibly be wearing. An expression designed to elicit the highest amount of sympathy in a willing audience. Outwardly, Beca stares hard at the notebook on her desk, reaching out to run her finger along the spiral. “No,” she murmurs. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Did I…” Chloe sighs, like she can’t quite bear to finish that question. But Chloe, as resilient as ever, pushes through, though she doesn’t finish the question. “Beca, please just look at me.”

Beca bites her lip but she complies nonetheless, taking her time to drag her eyes up to Chloe’s face.

She hates that she immediately wants to break into a smile upon simply seeing Chloe’s face—a natural by-product of the happiness she usually feels upon seeing her best friend’s face, though her more recent emotions have obviously been veering towards the romantic.

But more than all of that—more than the positive emotions—she hates the hurt she sees there, especially knowing that she had actively contributed in some way.

“Did I do something?” Chloe asks rather quickly. Nervously. Her hands come up to grip her own arms, hugging herself. “Did I do something to you to make you…”

“To make me what?”

“Like this,” Chloe says quickly. “Like you can’t stand being around me.”

It’s not you, Beca thinks. It’s me and I’m so sorry. “It’s…nothing,” Beca says evasively. “I…” Her eyes narrow as her brain catches up with the rest of her emotions. She fully processes that Chloe is in her room. After school. On a nice evening. “Didn’t you have plans today? With Tom?”

A blush rises on Chloe’s cheek at the mere mention of his name, as usual. And as usual, Beca finds herself reacting viscerally with something akin to nausea. “I cancelled,” Chloe admits. “I wanted to see you. It’s been a while since—”

“—Well, you’ve seen me.” Beca tries not to let some of the acidity seep into her tone because Chloe doesn’t deserve it, but it does anyway. Too late. Beca sighs. “I have homework to do.”

Chloe brightens. “Great! So do I. We can do it together.”

Chloe’s chipper tone, while normally something that Beca finds charming and attractive, grates on her nerves today. Beca glances at Chloe out of the corner of her eye. It’s then that she notices Chloe’s full backpack resting on the floor by her feet. “Don’t you have to do it with Tom? Like you guys normally do? He made that pretty clear.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Chloe says in a tone that Beca can’t identify. She doesn’t know if she has the energy to identify anything at this point.

Beca grits her teeth. “I still think you should go.”

“Why?” Chloe challenges. When Beca doesn’t respond, Chloe continues, this time with an angry tone. “Do you know how worried I am about you? What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me? Is it Tom? Did he say something to you?” The way Chloe says his name then is so distinct that it makes Beca’s ears perk up. It reminds Beca of so long ago—of Chloe immediately demanding the names of people who had hurt Beca’s feelings.

Her own knight in shining armor.

Beca exhales noisily and finally meets Chloe’s eyes head-on. “Chloe, no. We’re not doing this right now.”

Blue eyes flash like lightning. “Oh, well at least you’re looking at me now.”

“Chloe,” Beca says, exasperated at the bitterness in Chloe’s tone. It is absolutely well-deserved, but the sting makes Beca’s hackles rise nonetheless. “Come on.”

“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s been going on with you.” Chloe literally stomps her foot on the ground. “I swear it, Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe kind of looks like she might stomp her foot again. Instead, she crosses her arms and stares at Beca defiantly.

It’s like the dam breaks all at once. Beca bursts out laughing at both the sight and the sound. “Did you just—? A foot stomp? Really?”

Chloe freezes, like she isn’t quite sure what’s going on. “Oh, I…” The mild confusion in her eyes causes Beca to smile again, unable to hide her own adoration for her best friend even if she tried.

(Which she has been. Trying, at least.)

For a moment, it is finally silent in Beca’s room. Chloe’s stance softens and she is suddenly staring at Beca with a different kind of expression on her face. “What?” Beca asks, not realizing that she has the tiniest smile on her face still.

“There you are,” Chloe says affectionately. “My favorite smile.”

Beca blinks, feeling the sudden urge to cry. All kinds of emotion well up inside her, each warring for some kind of dominance; each warring for attention. Beca feels like Chloe is really looking at her for the first time in a while.

It also occurs to Beca that they’re finally alone and Beca has no idea what to do.

“Stop,” Beca says quickly. She averts her gaze. “Stop doing that.”

Chloe’s confusion is immediately visible. New tension grows palpable between them. “Stop doing what?”

“Stop…” Beca gestures wildly. “Doing those things. Saying those things that make me…” she trails off, licking her lips. The air feels thick. Difficult to breathe. “Stop,” she whispers.

Her heart races uncomfortably, like what Beca imagines a heart attack to feel like. Or if she’s being less dramatic, what she imagines a panic attack to be.

“Beca,” Chloe murmurs. “You can talk to me. Please, you’re scaring me.” She steps closer, right in front of Beca. Beca sees Chloe’s annoyingly cute socks in her line of vision and slowly lifts her head. “Hi,” Chloe says softly upon catching Beca’s eyes with her own. “Beca,” she starts. “It’s okay.”

Is it? Beca thinks. Will it ever be?

It’s then that Beca realizes how close they’re standing. How nice Chloe smells. How much softer her sweater looks up close. The very light freckles on Chloe’s face, now faded compared to how prominent they had seemed during the summer months.

I love you so much, Beca thinks, her traitorous mind breaking down every last confine as usual. I don’t know what that means, but I know that it’s true.

Beca isn’t sure what comes over her then.

(She kind of knows, but still. It’s easier being ignorant to her thought processes.)

In reality, it feels like the oddest fog passing over her brain while her heart beats with startling clarity. Her fingers graze Chloe’s cheek before she realizes what is happening and her lips meet Chloe’s with force that surprises both of them. Beca feels the tension leave her body immediately replaced by the most peculiar warmth—a warmth that fills her chest unexpectedly and so wholly that her body all but sags into Chloe’s.

To her surprise, just as she is about to pull back, Chloe’s hand comes up to cup the back of her head while the other hand curls around her hip with, Beca realizes with a jolt of fire to her chest, stark possessiveness and protectiveness. For a few blissful moments, Chloe’s lips move in tandem with her own, as soft as Beca always imagined. The initial shock of experiencing her first kiss wears off, but…

Chloe is kissing her back. Chloe is kissing her and Chloe is not moving away except—

She does.

Chloe finally moves back, their lips separating with suddenness and abruptness that leaves Beca reeling.

“Oh my God,” Beca says immediately. Her throat feels tight and her voice is high and rough with the fear that courses through her body. “God, Chloe, I—”

“You just kissed me,” Chloe interrupts. Her voice trembles even as she continues. “You kissed me, Beca.”

There is something more than accusation in her tone. There is a hint of desperation that Beca recognizes all too well and further, something almost foreign in terms of their interactions with each other. Chloe has never sounded unsure or insecure when talking to Beca. The fact that she did just then breaks Beca’s heart a little bit.

“I’m…” Beca swallows. Pushes down the emotion threatening to spill over. She isn’t even sure what there is to really say. All she can think about is how Chloe pulled away first—essentially pushed her away. It stings more than Beca had anticipated even though it had been what she entirely expected. “I know. Chloe, please, just listen."

“I’m dating Tom,” Chloe responds immediately. “I’m dating Tom and I can’t…you can’t just spring this on me and just…” Chloe’s eyes well up with tears and Beca feels her own eyes sting at the sight. “I can’t cheat on him.”

“We didn’t,” Beca says quickly. Desperately. “Chloe, please, can we just…” Beca feels the last false shred of happiness finally crumble away as she sees the despair in Chloe’s eyes.

She doesn’t feel the same way.

She never did.

She was just caught up in the moment.

“I don’t know what I expected,” Beca says in a small voice. “Fuck,” she murmurs, running her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She feels so fucking embarrassed.

Chloe hesitates. “Beca, wait.”

“No, you should just go. You should go and just.” Beca turns back to her desk and grips the edge of her chair tightly. “Just go do your dumb homework and go be with your boyfriend. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I just need time—”

“Chloe, now.”

The way Beca’s voice rings around her bedroom weighs heavier than the silence that follows. She thinks she hears Chloe sniffle once, but she can’t bear to look. She can’t bear to see Chloe’s expression and even more viscerally, the metaphorical imagery of Chloe finally crushing the last pieces of her already-shattered part as she leaves Beca’s bedroom.

The door clicks quietly, but the sound still makes Beca jump. Unfortunately, not like a movie, these end credits close out with nothing more than a whimper from her own mouth.

She finally allows herself to crumble, finally unable to outrun the magnitude of her emotions.

Not like running had worked very well before.

 * * * * * 

Chloe I shouldn’t have left, i’m sorry

That’s the text message Beca receives the next morning.

Beca I wanted you to go

It’s one of the few lies Beca has ever told Chloe over the span of their eleven-year friendship.

Beca I’m sorry too

She bites her lip at the added-on text, sending it on impulse because she doesn’t want Chloe to be upset with her. Whether she’s apologizing for the kiss, for her feelings, or for chasing Chloe out of her bedroom, she’s not sure at this point.

It doesn’t matter, however. Chloe doesn’t reply; doesn’t even call her out on it.

 * * * * *

Beca goes a few days with some relative quiet in her life. She drags herself around aimlessly doing her best not to be too rocked with guilt and discord as her mind traitorously replays the kiss at unfortunate moments.

“Beca, wait!”

Beca does her best to steady herself and she takes a breath. It does feel like self-sabotage, knowing that Chloe is equally likely to spend time at this specific spot—their spot—so Beca supposes a part of her wanted so badly to just see Chloe’s face again. Just to see if Chloe would be disgusted or upset with her.

All she sees is desperation written across Chloe’s face. The same desperation that had been on Chloe’s face just a few days ago in her bedroom. Since then, Beca had been avoiding her as best as possible, weaving around people whenever the opportunity presented itself (which was often, due to Beca’s smaller stature).

Beca had never been so grateful for crowded high school hallways. Blending in and being nearly invisible never felt so good.

“We need to talk,” Chloe says quietly. “You know we do.”

“There’s…” Beca presses her fingers tightly into the metal bar in front of her, unable to look at Chloe directly. She should have expected Chloe to come here. Self-sabotage, she supposes. “Nothing to talk about.”

“That’s crap and you know it.”

Beca refuses to acknowledge that. “I can’t right now, Chlo.”

“Please,” Chloe says, a bit closer than before. “You…” Chloe sighs. “You can’t just kiss me like that and—and—” Biting frustration seeps into her tone. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that,” Chloe whispers after a moment of silence. “But there’s no way you can just expect me to ignore what happened between us.”

Beca takes a brief moment to marvel over how Chloe somehow manages to be good with words. Or at least that she manages to get words out at all. It’s something Beca envies.

“I’m trying so hard to understand, Beca,” Chloe murmurs, taking a step closer.

Beca continues to focus on anything but Chloe. “There’s nothing to understand. I made a mistake. You can forget about it.”

The air seems to still around them. Beca can hear the shouts of their peers, sharp and crisp in the brisk, chilly air.

Finally, Chloe responds, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to forget about it, Beca.”

That makes Beca look at Chloe. She twists so sharply and quickly that she think something cracks in her neck, but she brushes off the brief twinge that runs through her body. “Why?” she asks, hating how weak her voice sounds. “You should, it’s for the be—”

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Chloe repeats, firmer than before.

“Why?” Beca asks quickly as curiosity and hope win out.

Chloe says nothing, simply watching Beca with a near-inscrutable expression. Finally, she sucks in a breath. “Why did you kiss me?” she asks, in lieu of responding, like it’s all the response Beca needs. The challenge in Chloe’s voice is familiar. It makes Beca’s heart race. She resists the urge to reach out and grasp onto Chloe’s forearms or shoulders to steady herself. Instead, Beca forces herself to keep her eyes on Chloe steadily.

In that moment, Beca just wants Chloe to steal the words right from her mind. She wants Chloe to speak so she doesn’t have to—Chloe has to know at this point. She has to know, there’s no real reason for her not to know. It becomes evident that Chloe isn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. Beca sighs. “You know why,” she finally murmurs. “You know,” she presses.

Chloe’s eyes flash with emotion—finally something akin to the familiar passion that Beca has come to know over the years. It sends Beca’s heart into a tangle of emotions as she attempts to steady her own breathing. She could go on. She could keep talking. She feels the urge—she recognizes it in its rarity—course through her with startling sincerity. You know why, her own words echo back at her. Tell her, she begs herself. Please.

I like you.

I’m in love with you.

I love you.

“Then you know why, too,” Chloe finally says after a long silence.

Beca’s eyes must do something—she feels some muscle in her face twitch—because Chloe takes an immediate step back after the words leave her mouth.

“Chloe,” Beca breathes, like it’s the first breath of pure air she has taken in and expelled in a long time. Tom, Beca thinks frantically. But Tom is—it can’t be—

“I—I should go. But—um.” Chloe shifts, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she assesses Beca once more. Beca doesn’t dare breathe, wondering if Chloe is going to kiss her—whether Chloe will kiss her first this time. Or if Chloe will hug her. Or if Chloe will say more. She longs to ask more questions, say more words, but she’s too afraid of the thick air between them suddenly.

Chloe finally takes a breath; she finally takes a step back and lifts her hand in a half wave, like she realizes she needs to leave. “I have to go,” she repeats. “But I...Beca,” Chloe murmurs. She lifts her hands together, like she might take the necessary steps to close the distance between them, but she casts Beca a sad expression, clenching her hands into fists and drawing them close to her chest. It is so vulnerable and unexpected for Chloe that Beca has no idea what words could possibly come out of her mouth then. “Don’t give up on me.”

That alone steals Beca’s breath from her once more. She can do nothing more than nod, because how can she even fathom the thought. It had been nice to indulge in the possibility of not loving Chloe Beale—not being with her, even as friends—but this reality, however half-formed is more than Beca could have ever dreamed of.

With that, Chloe finally twists and darts away from under the bleachers. Beca watches her go with bated breath, and when she finally exhales, she watches the way the air condenses in front of her, like a flurry of thoughts and emotions finally making themselves known in Chloe’s wake.

She breathes, allowing herself to think of their shared kiss in Beca’s bedroom just days ago. Maybe even a week now.

“I won’t,” she replies, speaking to nobody except the ghostly presence of the memories past, present, and future.

And she finally feels like the future—whatever sequels may follow—might not look so bleak.

fin.

[syntheticsoulmates]

Day 6-Everyday

Hello everyone! Extra thanks to @duplicitywrites for coming up with the idea of a Groundhog Day! 

***

The worst part is that Harry never remembers him.

***

Tom is holding Harry's guts in.  Harry's in so much pain his eyes aren't tracking, and a bubble of blood forms at his lips. It pops and droplets flick onto Tom’s face. It doesn't matter. What's a little more blood?

“Go,” Harry wheezes, and Tom's genuinely impressed he made actual sound, with the state his diaphragm isn’t in. He lackadaisically waves one hand, before he realizes that it's missing and just. Stops. “We both know this doesn't matter.”

Tom nods.  It doesn't matter, not really. But it also does, to Tom, so Tom stops applying pressure with his hands and waits for that glow in Harry's eyes to die before he moves on.

***

Tom used to be terrified of dying. He's not anymore. He's done it so many times, so many different ways. How can you be afraid of something that happens every day?

***

“How did you get it to stop?” Tom asks, desperate, the first time he meets Harry.

Harry takes a deep breath, caps an Inferi over Tom’s shoulder. The way he moves is unreal. His voice is casual. “I got injured, real bad, but not enough to die right away. I passed out and the field medics got me. They bled me out, until it was red again.” Another burst of fire, another dropped horde of Inferi. Tom isn’t sure if he’s full of envy or dread.

“It hurt so bad I thought I died for real,” Harry laughs, cheerfully, and shoots another one.  

***

“We should fuck,” Tom states. He’s staring at the nape of Harry's neck, at the line of clean-looking skin at Harry's hairline where his sweat has pushed away the grime. He wants to lick it. Or bite it. He's not picky.

Harry glares at him out of the corner of his eye, still maintaining good coverage with his gun. It's pointless. There aren't any Inferi until they hit the second outbuilding, and Tom will kill those three.

“I’m going to go with no, Riddle. And I'm not even flattered.” Harry's voice is dry, but Tom knows him so well he can tell he's amused despite himself.

Tom shrugs, like he doesn't want this almost as bad as he wants the morrow. “We have before,” he lies.

Harry shakes his head, obviously exasperated. There's a smile on the corners of his lips. Tom loves that smile. “I don't believe you.”

Tom shouldn't be surprised. Tom is new to Harry every day, but he still hasn't managed to successfully lie to him even once. Every day, Harry just looks up from where Tom blows the Inferi off of him, says a small, ‘Oh, you too?’, and follows him off the battlefield. Just like that. Still, Tom’s offended, more than he should be.

“What, you don't think you would ever condescend to bed me? You're straight?” Tom snarls. “I'm not ‘your type’?”

“No.” Harry's smiling outright now, and it takes the edge of Tom's anger, just like that. “I think I've been waiting. I’ll keep waiting. I'll wait until it will motivate you the most,” he says, sly, eyes gleaming.

***

“Good luck today, Tom,” Harry wishes him, voice soft. Tom can't feel his body, can't move his legs. The Inferi are screaming for flesh, and Tom can hear it getting closer. They have one bullet. Harry puts the barrel of his service pistol to Tom’s forehead and pulls the trigger.

***

Dumbledore twinkles at him, the rat bastard, and tells him he’s needed on the front lines, to boost morale. Tom declines. That's not what he does. He's handsome and he knows it. His father had abandoned him, left him only a face, but it's a damn good one, and he's used it to stay invaluable and thus invulnerable, in the war. Tom does recruitment and public relations and social media relations. He does not fight.

Dumbledore twinkles and twinkles until he stops. Tom ends up in the front lines anyway.

***

Tom vomits after he kills his first Inferi. It's not because it looks almost human, despite being over pale with a strange triangle circle amalgamation on its brow. He's killed humans before—father. grandfather. grandmother—and he didn't puke then. He'd felt high, as close to believing in God that he'd ever been. It had felt addictive and heady and right and he'd decided right then he’d never do it again because otherwise he'd never stop.

No, Tom vomits because the creature explodes into viscous black sludge, splattering his nose and mouth, squirting on his tongue. The fluid tastes like anise and motor oil and Tom knows the instant he tastes it everything is wrong. He dies for the first time, fifteen minutes later, teeth still stained black.

***

He and Harry are in a tiny cabin. Tom plucks a shotgun from inside the pantry and some buckshot from a drawer in the bathroom. He hands both to Harry.

Harry smiles at him, wan. He’s tired, and Tom knows he’s in pain all up his side from being thrown by the Inferi. “Thanks, Tom.”

Tom kisses him, brief, his mouth scorching hot against his own. He's been cold, so very cold, ever since he started dying. He's not sure if it's psychological or because there is black sludge to replace the blood in his chest.

Harry’s smile brightens, his cheeks the tiniest bit red. “Thanks for that too.”

***

Dumbledore doesn't believe them about the Deathly Hallows. He calls Harry his boy and fixes Tom tea and listens as Tom drags up his whole life history from Gellert and his baby Aryan group to his poor sister and the hospice incidents.

He doesn't and doesn't and doesn't and doesn't, until Tom presses a kiss to Harry’s brow and pushes Harry's gun down and asks him not to shoot, that doesn’t work, please love. He’s not sure if he even means it. He's so sick of Dumbledore’s twinkle.

Dumbledore hands over the Deathstick Harry had confiscated from the Inferi. After that Tom remembers the goddamned combination.

***

The Resurrection Stone Tom knows by now to pry out of the forehead of that first Inferi he killed, and still kills. He has to be quick about it, because every day Harry's nearly half the field away, every day Harry's got an Inferi poised over his neck for Tom to punt off of him.

He gets very fast.

***

“I just don't know where the Cloak is,” Tom whispers. He and Harry are playing hooky today, pretending the lights in the sky are fireworks instead of mortar and heavy artillery fire.

Harry's head is heavy on Tom’s shoulder. He's crying, silent with it, eyes so swollen Tom can only see slits of green. It's so painful for him to sit here, Tom doesn't think he'll ever ask Harry to do this again, no matter how many more years this stretches.

He folds his arm around Harry, squeezes him tight. He presses a kiss to Harry's hair. It smells good for once, from their selfish shower. His brain doesn’t quite know how to reconcile it as Harry.  

***

The Cloak is in the Inferi’s Spawn Maw. Tom and Harry scope it out over the course of three days, and his stomach flips when he sees the pattern, or lack of one.

The few Inferi he and Harry kill at the Maw don't recycle. For the first time, since this never ending day began, something different is happening.

It’s only at the Maw, but that's enough. Time doesn't reset there. A fear he thought long dead—ha! rekindles in his belly.  

Harry gets it a good while after he does, when they retreat, after Tom zips him into a shared sleeping bag and curls up beside him, breathing in the scent of his filthy hair. He’s exhausted, bone deep, but he fights the urge to sleep, choosing instead to savor these last moments with Harry, before Tom goes to shoot himself and they cycle back around. His mind has honed and honed and honed itself, but his body is still the same as that first day, fit but not hardened with it.

Harry goes perfectly still. He takes Tom’s hand in between his, grip tight. Tom knows if he looked, he'd see Harry's fingers dimpling hard enough to blanch Tom's skin even paler white. “Promise me, Tom. Promise me you won't do it alone.”

Tom nuzzles deep into Harry's hair. It smells awful, like blood and burnt gunpowder and Harry’s drying fear sweat. He breathes in deeper and doesn't reply.

Harry always knows when he's lying, after all.

***

They’re back at the cabin. Tom leaves the shotgun and the buckshot where they are. He takes a step towards Harry instead.

“Please,” Tom whispers. He gently pulls the gun from Harry’s hands, then hooks his fingers into the curls of Harry’s belt loops.  He pulls Harry to him, gentle. “Please,” he repeats. In another time, another life, he'd have never said that word, never could have meant it. But this one day has become a new lifetime, and he means it now.

Harry melts to him, body going soft, pliant. He holds Tom’s face in his hands. They're gritty and acrid-smelling from gunpowder. Tom rubs his cheeks against them, presses kisses against the calluses on the inside of his palms.  

“Please, Harry, let me have you.” He whispers into Harry's skin. “Let me remember this for the both of us,” he pleads. He pulls Harry closer, grinds his hips, slow. “Let me.”

“Okay,” Harry nods. “Okay.” He kisses Tom back.

***

In the end, the Spawn Maw’s is just as horrific as he never could have imagined.

He does end up taking Harry, if only because he can’t fucking shake him after punting that Inferi off his almost-corpse, and he refuses to fix a future where Harry dies. He can’t shake Harry, so he also ends up taking a ragtag bunch of deserters he quite literally stumbled across about five years in todays ago instead of just stealing their Semtex. They’re crazy, and it takes less than fifteen minutes of convincing before they’re game.

“Groundhog Day!” The crazy curly haired woman who runs the group gleefully crows. She shot and killed him the first time, and Tom literally just saw her put a blasting cap in her mouth and bite down, so he thinks it’s understandable he misses her name. Stranger, maybe?

There are more Inferi in this maw than Tom could ever imagined, and half of the deserters are gone before they even get inside.

Inside holds a huge pool of black liquid, like the sludge Tom holds in his veins. It’s still, still, until one of the deserters trips as one of the Inferi tries to rip off his arms falls in. Then Inferi come pouring out, more bodies than that slick black morass could possibly hold.

The Cloak doesn’t turn out to be an object in quite the way the Stone and the Deathstick are, but more like a thick fur-like thing grown into a giant Inferi’s skin. It’s marked with the same bastardized circle triangle as that very first Inferi he killed and kills. He and Harry end up kneeling on the shrieking Inferi’s too many jointed limbs as Stranger-maybe laughs madly and flays it.

She’s barely ripped the last stretch of the Cloak free in a burst of anise and motor oil when even more Inferi pour in. She’s still laughing and holding it triumphantly aloft as she dies. Harry pulls the Cloak from her hands, and there’s no time.

“Riddle,” Harry stares at him with wide eyes. Tom hasn’t kissed his lips once today and he feels the lack like a split in his soul. Harry passes him the Cloak. “There’s no time.”

There are neatly packed blocks of Semtex in the backpack Stranger-maybe was carrying. Tom has the Stone and the Deathstick in his own, and the thick morass of the Cloak dripping in his hands.

Tom ignores the startled look in Harry’s eyes when he takes Harry’s hand for the boom.

***

Tom wakes up. His body is not sore and the sun is shining. It’s not today. Tom looks around, and some distant dim recognition supposes it might be yesterday. He’s not certain if this is better or worse, until he notices the people sort of milling about, stunned and aimless.

“The Inferi just keeled over and stopped moving,” one woman tells him, somewhat stunned. Tom lets her go, stunned himself.

His hand bleeds red when he cuts it. Tom could laugh in sheer joy.

It takes an interminable three hours to find him.

“Harry Potter.” Tom calls out, knowing better than to startle Harry. He can’t stop smiling and it feels unnatural on his face.

Harry jerks up from where he’s polishing his gun, looks Tom up and down. He smiles back. “Oh, you too?”

[af-answers]

Four Times Artemis Tries to Convince Holly to go with him to Mars and the One Time he Didn’t

The First Time | The Second Time | The Third Time | The One Time he Didn’t

The Fourth Time

The fourth time was during their sting operation to find the Changeling Napper in the American West. Foaly’s e-mail had been the itinerary of a gnome named Rumi Mush, a fungus farmer on the south side of Haven. Agricultural workers received more topside passes than most other professions in the fairy world, because though Haven’s technology was great, there were some things (like fertilizer and new seeds) one had to get from the source. Mush had been to California a week before the kidnappings began, and the surveillance photos showed Mush bringing a large biohazard container topside. It wasn’t uncommon for his trade, but Mush himself didn’t work with biohazards like spores or bacteria. But that wasn’t the smoking gun.

Foaly had done a media sweep of the area. Two days ago, in the same little town where the A5 shoot let out in California, a human child had been abducted from its crib. A wood carving of a human child had been left in its place.

The LEP raided his house on the outskirts of the gnome district and found not only the four missing fairy babes crying in a locked closet, but the human child in a cage in the basement. There were more cages as well: apparently, Mush was putting together a menagerie.

When Holly put out a warrant for his arrest, Mush was on another surface run. They alerted border patrol, but he’d passed them hours before. Giving orders to detain him if he came back through, Commodore Short and a team of LEP Retrieval sprites suited up and took the fastest shuttle to the surface. The sprites complained the cramped quarters wrinkled her wings, and while Holly didn’t dignify them with an answer, she smiled to herself.

When they got to the surface, Mush hadn’t returned. To Holly, this meant either he knew somehow he’s been made and was on the lam, or he’d been caught in the act by humans. Both were worst case scenarios. Using intel about which babies lived nearest the fairy mound, the team split into three pairs, each taking a potential target.

“If you hear sirens, follow them,” she instructed over the comms.

She and her partner approached their assigned house downwind. Gnomes had excellent senses of smell; if their quarry caught a whiff of them, they were done. After all, he had the advantage of being magic-less and so could hide inside the house, not to mention the hostages he could take. She crept up to a window of the one-story brick house. All the windows were dark, but she looked in anyway, turning on her night vision.

“No movement,” she reported. “Check the other windows.”

Just then, a voice call alert flashed in the corner of her helmet, the icon ice blue.

“Not the time, Artemis,” she whispered, side-stepping a tipped over flower pot on the stoop of the porch.

“On the contrary, Commodore,” the Irish accent sounded even more pretentious over the phone, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say for once. The house you’re investigating is devoid of human occupants. Ms. Gregston won a all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas this weekend, and she’s left her infant daughter with her parents.”

“How fortunate,” she snarked, straightening as the tension melted off her. “So I’m guessing Mush isn’t here either?”

“Oh,” she could practically hear his smirk stretch into a grin. “I wouldn’t say that. Look in the front window.”

Holly peeked over the cracking paint of the window sill into the front room. There, hog-tied inside a ring of candles, was Rumi Mush. Outside of the wax circle was a note, written in a woman’s hand,

“Come on in.”

“I’ll see you at the fairy mound,” Artemis said, then hung up the phone.

As her team escorted a handcuffed Mush into a police shuttle, Holly slipped into the woods to meet the hulking figure in the shadows.

“Hide and seek was never your game, eh big man?” she joked, tapping Butler on the thigh with her first.

“I was quite good at being ‘it’,” he said with a grin.

Holly turned her gaze on Artemis, who looked entirely too smug.

“What were you thinking, interfering with LEP business like this?”

The grin shrunk a few teeth. “If I hadn’t interfered, you would have had a hostage situation on your hands!”

“I’m not complaining,” she pointed out. “I’m asking what were you thinking. Why this case? Why now?” It had been less than forty-eight hours since their lunch conversation, but the boy— no, man— looked different now. Emotionally. Though he smiled and his shoulders were sloped back in a relaxed stance, her helmet sensors showed an elevated blood pressure and too-even breathing. Like he was regulating it manually.

She took off her helmet, tucking it under her arm before taking his hand. “What’s happened, Artemis?”

He looked up at his oldest friend, who coughed into one gargantuan fist. “I’ll go— wait by those trees. You know the ones.”

When he’d gone, Artemis sighed, his smile now tired. “I can’t beat Foaly’s sensors, can I?”

“Why would you try?” She activated her wings so she could hover at his eye level. “Does it have something to do with the space thing? Why are you so hung up on this Artemis? Why are you in such a hurry—“

“Hurry? I’ve been building this ship for four years!”

“And you can’t wait a little longer? You’re still young, your brothers are still young. If you leave now, you’ll miss most of their childhood.”

“All the more reason to leave now,” he joked.

“This all seems very reactionary for you, Arty. I’ve never known you to make such a big decision so flippantly.”

“Apparently I’m supposed to be flippant. Flippant is normal.”

Artemis ran his free hand through his hair— a rare gesture for him, as it mussed his quaff— and pursed his lips to keep himself from talking further (another rarity).

But that last word was all Holly needed. It was a word Artemis seldom used unless he talked about one specific person. “It’s your mother.”

Holly led him to the coffee house in the shuttle terminal. They got a lot of sideways glances, but Artemis had been on multiple Haven talk shows since his rebirth, so there was no outright alarm.

“It didn’t begin when I resurrected,” he said as she set a earthenware cup of hickory coffee in front of him. “It didn't even start after Hybras, it was well before then. I think Mother has considered herself a failure as a parent since Father’s return, and she’s been trying to rectify the problem— me— ever since.” He wrapped his hands around the cup, but didn’t lift it to drink. “First her behaviors were what I considered to be typical for a mother: buying me clothes I didn’t like, disapproving of my language, wanting me to socialize with people my own age. But when Myles showed signs of taking after me, it changed. Escalated.” He sighed deeply, and Holly realized this was hard for him, that he most likely had never voiced these thoughts aloud. She covered his hands with hers, but remained silent.

He took another breath, then went on. “She was already going to university for psychology and mental biology, so she took up some child psych classes. After her first class, she sent the twins to a private boarding school on the other side of Dublin. I know part of her reason was so the twins would be more socialized than I am. A noble goal to be sure.” He stared at their joined hands, a crease forming between his brows. “When the twins were suspended for criminal recklessness, I’ve never seen Mother so upset. Not only with the twins, but me as well. She would never accuse me of corrupting my brothers, of course, but after that she monitored me constantly. Every day she asked me probing questions, and I could feel her diagnosing me, trying to suss out how I was broken.” He pressed his eyes shut. “Do you know what it feels like, to have someone you love and admire try to change the fundamentals of who you are? To have someone make you question if you’re sensible or even real?”

Now Holly did speak. “Yes,” she said, squeezing his hands. When he opened his eyes to look at her, they were watery, the ice in his blue irises melting. “In my early days as an officer, Commander Root and my coworkers challenged every decision I made. If I showed emotion, I was acting like a girl. If I did something right, I was finally ‘thinking like a man.’”

“The commander said that to you?” Artemis asked, angry on her behalf.

She shrugged. “It was the way at the time. He apologized later, and no one on the force would dare make those comments now, but back then I was jeered at for acting like a woman, but rejected if I bucked gender roles. It was wrong of them to treat me as if my differences were flaws.” She said the next words gently, but firmly. “And it’s wrong of Angeline, too.”

He shook his head. “Your colleagues were prejudiced against your biology. I made horrible choices in the past, and Mother believes it’s her job to pick up the pieces.”

“You wearing Armani suits everyday and calling her ‘Mother’ doesn’t make you an evil dictator, Artemis,” she argued. “Your mother is upset because you are who you are independent of her influence. You took care of her when you were ten years old. You were saving the planet by fourteen. If she can’t see the amazing man you’ve become, it’s her who needs a shrink.”

The human blinked, then smiled, one side of his mouth pulling up higher than the other. “See? This is why I need you to come to Mars with me. Who else would put me in my place?”

She withdrew her hands and frowned. Her stomach fell like she’d eaten a meal of lead. “Wait. Was this all a ploy to convince me to go to Mars?”

He tilted his head at her, then laughed when he processed her question. “No, no it’s all sadly true. I must still have a way to go if you believe I’d tell such an egregious lie to trick you into running away with me. Or perhaps, you’re simply arrogant.”

Holly shared his laugh, her stomach light again. “Even though we shouldn’t change who we are to match someone else’s expectations, there's always room for personal growth.”

He finally took a drink of coffee, then winced when he found it was room temperature. “In all seriousness, the offer still stands. If there’s even a part of you that doubts, please think on it.” He produced a fairy credit chip to pay for their drinks, and Holly didn’t bother asking where he’d gotten it. He stood, still smiling sadly at her. The emotion was become a constant for him, and she didn’t like it. “The launch is scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow. Please let me know by then.”

She nodded numbly, her brain scrabbling to answer the unspoken question of whether she did doubt, when her thoughts finally snagged on two vital words.

“Two weeks?”

[missmentelle]

I keep hearing "if you're worried about being a bad person, you're not a bad person" and just wondering if that's true from a psychology perspective? The line of logic goes, a "real" toxic/abusive/narcissistic person wouldn't care that their actions hurt others, so if you're worrying about it, then you're definitely not one. Is that really the case though?

It’s... complicated. But no, not really. 

So, for starters, there’s no such construct as a “bad person” in psychology. Or a “good person”, for that matter. “Bad” and “good” are value judgments, and psychology tries to avoid making value judgments; we simply aim to identify and describe certain patterns of symptoms of behaviour. The fact of the matter is that everyone does things that could be considered “bad” and “good”, and no one is perfect. We have all hurt other people in our lives, both intentionally and unintentionally. It’s also important to remember that morality is not black-and-white - many, many things fall into a moral grey zone, and different people will have wildly different perspectives on what is right and wrong, and who is a “good” person or a “bad” person. A doctor or psychologist cannot tell you if you are a good person or not. That is something that you ultimately have to decide for yourself, after carefully comparing your own actions to the values that you hold. 

You are right that there are certain diagnoses that make a person much more likely to harm others in their lives without really examining their own actions too closely. People with narcissistic or anti-social personalities tend to center their own feelings, and disregard any hurt they cause others. Narcissistic people specifically think of themselves as being highly important, special, and deserving of recognition and success. They tend to enjoy being in a position of power over others, and they are comfortable manipulating and harming others for their own gain. People with anti-social tendencies and disorders, on the other hand, are easily bored and enjoy antagonizing others to get a reaction - any reaction. They are chronically irresponsible, deceitful, and uncaring, and they have no empathy for the people they hurt. If you find that you are chronically unable to feel any empathy for the people around you, or to regard their feelings in any way, that’s definitely a huge red flag that you’re probably harmful to the people around you - although of course, you won’t really care. 

Unfortunately, though, caring if you hurt people is not a guarantee that you aren’t doing it. Life and mental health are just not that simple. Many people who behave in toxic or manipulative ways toward others are anguished about it, and constantly worry about it - yet they continue to do it anyway. I think most of us have been in the awkward position of having a friend who didn’t treat us very well, possibly due to serious mental health concerns (maybe too clingy, dropping in and out of our lives without warning, flaky, not interested in our problems, overly critical, etc) who also asked for constant reassurance that they weren’t a horrible person and that you didn’t hate them. My boyfriend has an ex with untreated borderline personality disorder; she constantly, constantly agonized over the possibility that she was a “toxic person”, while doing nothing to change the fact that she was actually being extremely toxic to the people in her life. She harassed my boyfriend for more than six months after they broke up, while still continuing to make public social media posts of herself crying and talking about how she never wants to be a bad person. Although it’s fictional, another good example of this phenomenon can be found in Bojack Horseman - the main character spends the entirety of the show grappling with what it means to be a good person, while also consistently hurting the people around him. It would be nice to believe that simply worrying about hurting others is a guarantee that we don’t do it, but it’s just not that easy. 

Figuring out if you are being hurtful to the people you care about is a ongoing process that requires constant honesty with yourself, vigilance, and self-reflection. Being worried is not enough - you have to dig a lot deeper than that. For instance, you need to consider:

What does my relationship history look like? Everyone has relationships that end poorly or just don’t work out, for a wide variety of reasons. But it’s important to examine your relationships as a whole, to see if any troubling patterns emerge. When your relationships end, do you tend to just drift apart and lose contact, or do they tend to end with dramatic blow-ups? Do people tend to remain on okay terms with you after losing contact, or have you had a lot of people specifically block you and cut you out of their life? Again, everyone has had relationships go sour, but if there is a consistent pattern of people dramatically severing ties and relationships turning hostile and toxic, it’s typically a sign that there’s a problem in there that’s worth examining.

How do I react when I realize I’ve wronged someone? When you realize you have done someone wrong - either by your own realization, or by them telling you - how do you react? Do you accept responsibility and apologize, even if you think the incident was no big deal? Do you ignore the situation? Do you do something to try to make it up to them? Have you ever gotten angry or upset with someone for telling you that you hurt them? Again, fuck-ups and mistakes happen - we are human. It’s how you deal with those fuck-ups that matters. 

How were the last few arguments I’ve been in resolved? Think back to the last few times you had a serious disagreement with someone. What happened? Were you able to resolve the issue in a way that worked for both of you? Did the argument escalate? Did one person steamroller over the other? Disagreements are inevitable, but the way that we handle even the most serious difference of opinion says a lot about who we are. 

Am I generally reliable in relationships? Do you show up when you say you’re going to show up? Do you remember the things people tell you, or do you have to constantly be reminded about the basic details of other people’s lives? Do you send birthday greetings, answer texts most of the time, and make a point to be there for important events in others’ lives? Again, no one is perfect at this, but making an effort to be consistent about this stuff - and giving others a heads-up or apology when you are struggling to do it - is important. 

Have I been insensitive with others? Are you sensitive to other people’s needs? Do you generally manage to use tact when discussing delicate topics with people? Do you remember to avoid certain topics with certain people, and avoid airing people’s personal information in front of others? Nobody has perfect manners, but it’s important to make an effort to consider the comfort and feelings of others.

How do I treat people that I dislike? How you treat the people you dislike - or don’t know - is almost as important as how you treat the people you do like. Do you ever behave vindictively toward people you don’t like? Do you gossip about them? Have you ever gone out of your way to make someone’s life harder in some way because you didn’t like them? It can seem satisfying or justified to get our revenge on someone who wronged us, but this can quickly reach a point where it’s unproductive and cruel. 

Do I take no for an answer? Do friends and loved ones feel comfortable saying no to me? Do I tend to accept it when things don’t go my way, or do I tend to push and try to convince others to change their minds? Have I ever gone behind someone’s back after they’d already said no? It can be difficult to face rejection or an outcome that you don’t want, but being able to take it gracefully is important.

Obviously, this isn’t a comprehensive list of what it takes to be a “good person” to others, and you don’t have to hit every point on it all the time. We all have times where we are stressed and tired, or where we just drop the ball. Shit happens. But it’s important to keep examining ourselves in an honest way, and looking for places we can improve. Best of luck to you!Miss Mentelle

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know the one thing I hated while I was doing my arts degree, and still hate after having graduated from it, is the condescending statement/belief from people that “oh why didn’t you just do a more useful degree like maths or science???? and not your useless bullshit mickey mouse arts degree, which was never intended to give anyone jobs outside of teaching, anyway!” or some other horrendous bullshit, such as: “why didn’t you just stay with communication & media studies and complete the marketing & PR major???? you would’ve had a job after all of the unpaid internships you do throughout the course!” or whatever. (media and communications is abbreviated to m&cs further down in this post, just an fyi).

but, meredith. do you know that even people with science & maths degrees struggle to find meaningful work that’s related to their degrees? do you know that some of those people will turn to teaching anyway just because they feel like there’s nothing else that they can do??? do you know that some people (mainly me and probably quite a few others) just can’t handle maths past like idk year 6 level??? I would’ve been completely and utterly fucked if I even tried to set foot in first year uni science or maths subjects. even though some of the content did interest me.... (also there’s the fact that my handwriting wasn’t good enough for diagrams etc etc in maths & science- but that’s a whole other topic not for this post).

like I had to totally skip out of psychology/sociology and even the PR major, bc they required you to do statistics subjects.... where no matter what level of study I would’ve/could’ve done for those subjects, i would’ve still failed them spectacularly because my mind really struggles with processing and working with numbers. but that’s besides the point.

hey earl, do you know some people simply do not suit particular fields of “real world” or “practical” study areas like business subjects? trust me. I tried that one sem of marketing 101 and intro to management/ business communications in first year. and you know what I found? that my mind just could not take the complete and utter dryness of the content of marketing theory and, again, numbers. and that’s despite the earnest encouragement of my tutor, who thought I had a knack for marketing. i literally almost fucking died in that business communications subject... even though the lecturer seemed to like me as well. but as i thought further ahead into my degree in comms & media, i dreaded it. I absolutely fucking dreaded it. the PR stuff sounded as equally dry & boring (besides the point that every project was group work lmao) and so did upper level marketing subs in advertising/marketing strategy/various fields of marketing etc etc. i couldn’t stomach that lmao. and besides the point, the analysing of media just bored the fuck out of me too, for some reason. I just didn’t like the subject. hell, even my advanced diploma in marketing from business college was a fucking hard slog for me.

but when i sat in my english, philosophy, (kind sorta) history and -further down the track- creative writing subjects.... I fucking loved them. I was writing like I’d always wanted to. okay yes I did get pretty dismal marks in most of my philosophy and english exams or assignments. but I don’t fucking care. I was there doing what my mind was built for. if id tried another business subject, like intro to economics or even gone back to redo that “intro to management”/“business communications” (or whatever it was called) as an elective/as electives, i probably would’ve dropped out of either of them in the first 2 weeks. whenever i read those subject descriptions, they literally put me to sleep.

also, for the media and comms point. do you know that there’s loads of media & comms students that don’t get jobs because there’s just such a HUGE intake of students in those courses??? do you know that that the most popualr field in that degree stream (at least when I started that degree at my local home uni in 2015) was journalism & professional writing??? where literally EVERYONE was aiming to be a journalist????

I was one of the very, very few people when I began in media and comms, to outwardly say that she was there to do marketing or maybe the marketing & PR double major.... and everyone looked at me as if I was insane. “why don’t you want to be a journalist? I think journalism is so cool and that I’m more likely to get a job in that than you are in marketing or PR. you actually engage with real people in journalism and do meaningful stuff with the community!” was one of the utterly dumb responses I sometimes got from people in that course, when I told them the above. but you know what kelsey, or, trent? neither one or any of us are “more likely” to get jobs in media & comms... when you’re both competing against people with “proper” straight journalism degrees who might have more media experience than you- if you didn’t do an internship or do some uni newsroom/magazine or whatever.... or maybe more streamlined (if that’s the right word) media &comms degrees.... as well as generally competing against each other, in the same field, for the fucking same exact jobs. while im competing against commerce students doing marketing and PR and people doing the PR & marketing major in m&cs.

also in relation to the above, doing multiple unpaid or even severely underpaid internships in journalism, or even marketing, probably won’t fucking secure your chance of getting a bloody job, adam. just shut the fuck up. those internships may have helped you. but they most likely won’t help most people, theresa. because there’s only a tiny freakin chance that the place that they worked for will actually give them a guranteed job at the end of their internship’s timeframe or at the end of their whole degree. it’s a fucking scam lmao.

and plus, (not to be as rude as you were to me).... but why the FUCK would you want to go into journalism.... when it’s been debased so fucking much by media outlets like buzzfeed; writing nothing but clickbait bullshit listicles.... and is polluted by internet virality.... so much so, that more than half of the people my course had the career goal of being a viral youtuber or an instagram influencer???? like i’m sorry. this is a dumb asf course, no matter the field you’ve chosen to study.... and there’s no way that a single one of you will be a successful viral youtuber or an instagram influencer???? what on fucking earth led you to believe that????

like no offence. but there’ll only be a lucky, lucky, lucky few who get to be the next jennamarbles, ray william johnson, pewdiepie, lily singh, tanya hennessy, jeffree star, james charles, etc etc.... or hell, even friendlyjordies (if you want some satire & politics). and for instagrammers.... idek know them. someone list some instagrammers lmao. but my point still stands.

being an influencer or youtuber- both with huge followings- is a fucking pipe dream- as much as me being a hugely successful author is. it only goes to the insanely lucky, lucky few who have the right connections and the right digital savviness/finesse to grow to be uber successful.... or who started super early, before it was even considered a job title (like jenna mourey/marbles and ray william johnson listed above, and several others not listed who have big fan followings on here) and eventually grew to be the first original titans of the youtuber job title.

or again, they already have some type of other successful media career (like tanya hennessy is an aussie radio announcer. jeffree star had a short lived myspace music career in the late 000s mostly, and made cameos in emo music videos and LA ink at the time also, for example) so that they can successfully fund their youtube channels and/or instagrams as side projects or whatever, as part of their media portfolio.... and they also know how to engage and grow follower bases etc. because they already have an existing one. so it’s twice as easy for them.

tbh i actually entered the m&cs course bc of my use of this hellsite and all the weird trends it had and stuff.... but I eventually got over that as I realised that I just did NOT fit into that field of study. I realised I was too shy... and I also just hated the fact that I had to learn how to use twitter and wordpress and probably eventually snapchat & instagram 😂

i had also gotten sick of follower counts and “growing a following”- considering that by 2015, I’d hit over 3,000 followers on here, I think.... and I realised just what energy and time it took to build this blog.... and my followers.... that I just didn’t have the energy to expend on other platforms for the same thing lmao. like it seemed like more wasted time. I was tired. in addition to that, i also realised that i didn’t want to waste my whole fucking career on the internet worrying over a business’s/company’s multiple corporate social media channel follower counts and image etc.... when i’d done enough of that for myself on this hellsite lmao. doing that stuff with other students in the m&cs course seemed fake asf, especially when it came to giving feedback comments etc lol.

but do you know that one place where you don’t have to give a flying fuck about followers, post views/comments, and blog views? philosophy and english. lmao 😅. no one gives a fuck what you say. unless, of course, you have the evidence and the force of argument to back your pov up. that’s what I was about and am still about. I loved reading and analysing the many books I had to read (contrary to the complaint posts that I made on here lmao)- whereas learning about media and who owned what and how media is manufactured- just made my brain freeze. and although I didn’t do my readings in philosophy (lmao)- i enjoyed a good bulk of the content I had and the issues it involved. doing media & journalism subjects in the m&cs degree, on the other hand, terrified me, bc it meant I had to get in front of a camera and speak- which also scared me bc i look & sound terrible on camera lmao 😂. but I didn’t have to do that almost throughout the entirety of my arts degree (im obvs not counting class presentations in this lol). but do you get my point???

and also the teaching comment. don’t get me wrong, i know a good bunch of people go into teaching after their arts degrees... including many of my friends; and a load of the people I was in my arts degree with. but that is mainly because with other degrees like journalism or media & comms or whatever other fields that they overload into uni arts departments- have taken our job titles away, in a sense....

so, then you’re practically forced to either go into teaching, or go into something outside of your expertise; like idek human resources management/a MBA via a masters.... or, again into something like librarianship via postgrad study- so, that for the love of fucking god- you have a job title to whack next to your name-!!!-instead of just “arts graduate” or “english major” or “philosopher” that all mean fuck all. and that’s because those labels sound vague, unhelpful, undefined and useless; as that’s opposed to something like “teacher” or “librarian” or even “information specialist”. all those titles/labels sound defined, and have actual useful concrete skills: like coding, database creation and maitenance & information retrieval (amongst other things), for a librarian/an information specialist, for example. these skills are then translated into something that you can physically demonstrate to people.... unlike with philosophy and english where people perceive that it’s just “all in your head” and “doesn’t produce anything worthwhile” bc of your very obvious skills that everyone has of communication and writing. like idk. anyway.

anyway here’s my rant for november.

[triyune]

Review: Joker/Harley: Criminal Sanity #1 + #2

Recently, or less recently by now, DC has decided to grant their older readers a little bit of more violence and psychological depth by releasing comics under their Black Label.

I greatly appreciate that effort since I really miss at least that depth in many comics.

Here, I am going to discuss the comics criminal sanity #1 and criminal sanity #2 in terms of storyline, art and even a bit of personal stuff, but who cares, I get no money for doin this!

 SPOILER alert

Joker/Harley: Criminal Sanity "written by #1 New York Times and internationally bestselling author Kami Garcia", art by Mico Suayan and Mike Mayhew

Storyline I am starting to wonder how Kami Garcia managed to get on top of New York like that. When I bought Criminal Sanity 1 I was looking forward to a comic explanation of what is commonly perceived as sanity in respect of criminals. And hey, it did. It explains that with reference to real life killers like Ted Bundy or Ed Gein etc. It is like a comic where they decided to show us what would have happened if Harleen Quinzel had adopted another course and used her skills to help the police find killers. I can’t say that I like her vibe, but that is a personal thing. I understand that she’s displaying that arrogance because she feels hurt, not only because her girlfriend had been killed by the Joker, so we assume, and that this police department full of snug macho men is not a happy place for a woman, but well. I can’t say what it is but something’s not right with her. Maybe it is also because she’s often drawn with the same expression and she feels a bit one-dimensional to me. Anyway, as for the killings, I appreciate DC’s (new) Black Label since that way, the writers and artists are allowed to give the stories and images more depth and intensity. I would have been disappointed to see those corpses just beaten to death or anything crude of the like. It is obvious that they have done some research and want to present that in the comic. They are just about to create a certain image of the killer and the reader is clueless as for the definite meaning of those symbols. Of course we are clueless because we aren’t killers, are we. Would we put arms on a clock to express that someone’s running out of time? We wouldn’t. And so we have no clue. After reading the first volume I was hoping to see it going into detail, hoping for the hunt to pick up pace. Instead, the second volume turns out to become a trip into the past. No doubt it is a Comic Noir and quite enjoyable to see the style changing from black/white to colours, but sometimes, the change from John’s to Harleen’s POV is a bit confusing since it doesn’t 'connect'. The first change, for example, deals with the explanation of how John got those concussions, dislocated shoulder etc. and we are taken back to the past to see daddy beating his son and doing his brute thing. Next, we see Harleen going out for a drink and next we see the Joker-to-be entering a drinking hole. I fail to see any connection there and I guess it was just done to push on with his story. And don’t tell me that the alcohol is supposed to be the link, please. I just don’t want to believe that -__- Anyway, Harleen leaves the liquor store, meets her bro and we are taken to reminiscences of how cruel mother tortured poor Harleen. I’m led to think that we should see from that that Harleen’s had a tough childhood as well and that she did not turn into an artsy killer. So, what’s the difference between her and him, we should ask at reading these pages, right? Oh dear. However, then, I was really disappointed. We see Harl diving into the files again: Back to the past with young John-Joker roaming high school and dealing with further emotional abuse in his own way. Maybe I’m one of the few but it destroyed a lot of the atmosphere when I saw the Smartphones there. Laugh at me but I was born at a time when phones didn’t even exist in a portable way and I got introduced to the Joker in the 80’s when Tim Burton let Nicholson smile his way through a lost city. I am not used to seeing the Joker together with Smartphones. Again, I understand that they wanted to make the reader identify with the victim John and that is way easier when that figure uses the same shit everyone does these days so we got a Smartphone to feel closer to the figures. Awesome trope. Failed to achieve that effect with me, though. After we have finally been taught that eventually, high school John started fighting back but that he still didn’t stand a chance against his dad we go back to Harl’s POV again just to see how she’s watching a TV ad about a ring. We see that ad now again in the background of the killer’s basement, meaning that this is just happening at the same time now. And while Harl is talking to a suspect we see the killer going on a hunt for his next victim which he captures effortlessly. "I could tell you that this isn’t going to hurt...but that would be a lie." From a social media pranking kiddo to a sadistic and conceited killer. A bit insipid. When I started with the second volume I realized that Mick’s son, John, was going to be the Joker. I didn’t expect that since I didn’t think that it was just going to be another Joker origins story. It’s got a more fundamental psychological background than many of the mainstream comics, but after all it’s just the same dull violent-father-suffering-son and son-turning-violent-at-that cheese. I’m tired of reading Joker origins, even more so after the movie with Phoenix, but with that comic, it is just an attempt to explain his origins from a psychological point of view. Justified, but...we all know, don’t we. Least, we can imagine. I hope that I’ll be proven wrong and that John is not going to be the Joker in the end. That’s not possible? Oh, I do think them capable of twisting the story a hundred times around again so that John, or this milk face with the smeared make-up is not going to be who we know as ‘Joker’. Art Very refreshing. I have to admit that I do not own anything else but Joker comics so my visual horizon might be a bit limited in terms of various DC artists, but this one stands out, to me at least. The coloured bits are almost hyperreal and that is what makes it so scary. Their expressions are even a bit exaggerated which adds to that feeling of things getting out of control. A great deal of the atmosphere of that comic is due to its colours. The black and white style changes, sometimes paler, sometimes richer in contrast and simpler, which can be a bit irritating too. Here, colours are sparsely used to highlight things. After all, it’s just a matter of taste. All in all, it is meant to be on the dark side, art- and story-wise and it reminds me a bit of The Crow when the great teen villain is marching past super badass drunkards with his shredded bondage leather coat and heavy goth boots. It's a new take on the figure of the Joker. The question whether we need that or not is left with you. Bottom line

Four out of five groovy bloodstained razor blades.

I’m going to buy the rest of the books till the end, of course. Easy to make money with die-hard Joker fans like me, no matter how superficial, exaggerated or dull a comic is. Cheers Cheerio.