#found out recently that one of my long-term mutuals who i considered a friend blocked me.
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switching your url for the first time in 7 years is kinda fun. it's kinda like faking your own death
#sick of everything i need some changes around here#found out recently that one of my long-term mutuals who i considered a friend blocked me.#only thing i can think of is that i criticized kamala + the us electoral system around the time i stopped seeing them on my dash#ok well if im a paid russian troll im not getting paid enough. i should know better than to share my thoughts online#so back to lurking it is! this is gonna be the last time i talk in the tags for a while#(besides art. and idk whats in my queue)
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i’m glad people are finally saying something because it’s made me so uncomfortable how funny so many people seemed to find jokes about grooming and how gleeful so many people were to find out that dream was a bad person. i never cared for dream but i don’t understand how any one could see the situation as anything other than tragic, let alone be happy that young girls and women were groomed just because the person who did it was someone they already disliked. there were so many people i unfollowed when the news first broke because i found their reaction so disgusting and even more since for joking about it.
when the situation first started i wasn't home, and i remember i came online briefly for a second and saw everyone talking about it and immediately my friend messaged me and told me to log off for a little while and explained to me what was happening. i was absolutely devastated, and for awhile i was considering completely leaving tumblr because i was a dt main and my blog was very centric about them (ultimately decided not to and just tried to delete the majority of my posts about them). i pretty much blocked over half my long term mutuals ive had for years, ive blocked someone i considered a friend. seeing so many people make light about the situation and then saying stuff about how "drm fans are finally free" and/or joking about dream grooming someone fucked me up, and made me start thinking of my own bad memories regarding myself being groomed. and it doesn't help that recently people have been very bold with these types of jokes
people need to remember that this is a very serious topic, and while some types of jokes and humor about it is okay (ie basic jokes about snapchat or whatever), it gets to the point that when you start making certain types of jokes you are crossing a line and you just look like a fucking inconsiderate douchebag.
#asks#anon#discourse#dream situation#grooming mention tw#making it so people can't reblog this#if this doesnt make sense i was just rambling
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wish I were...
after Harry kisses reader, she watches him mesmerized as his ex walks by
‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST. WORD COUNT - 2,109
A/N: this is the first imagine I’ve ever posted on here hehe. but this most likely will be a 2-3 part mini series of pure angst...so yay!
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"My goodness, I can't believe it's been a year and this is how we're celebrating it? " I take a sip from my wine glass with a raised brow towards Harry. We were sat on the floor at the recording studio, having a makeshift little picnic to celebrate a year. A whole year of a beautiful friendship. "Well I thought it'd be fitting, ya know this is where we met and stuff. Look, I even got those Korean chips that you snacked on that day!" I laugh as he comically picks up a chip and places it in his mouth, followed by an exaggerated moan. I try to hide the blush rapidly heating up my face at how much effort he put into this silly thing. It started as a little joke I brought up to him one day when we were having a lazy day, and of course Harry would take it seriously. He planned the little picnic basket after a day in the studio when everyone else left and he had asked me to stay a little longer to help him with lyrics and whatnot. It was a complete surprise and I couldn't help but adore how happy and proud he was setting this up.
"Alright I gotta give it to ya H, you are the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for. I'm just happy that you didn't include those disgusting kale chips of yours." The smile that hasn't left his face drops into a shocked and offended look.
"Hey, you said you wouldn't make fun of my addiction anymore." He scoots closer to me, gently poking my rib to which I immediately jump and swat his hand away. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry!" I giggled when he makes himself comfty sat right next to me.
Subconsciously, I move closer till his shoulder touched mine. "I like this sweater, it's fluffy and keeps people warm." I say, huddling into the fabric that Harry gave me to wear when it got colder. "You know what, I like all your sweaters H, they're all impeccable." He chuckles, "really? It looks better on you than me, bubs." I smile, using the over-sized sleeves to cover my face and faking a groan. "Oh you would with that cliché ass line." "It's true! Beautiful in m'clothes." He mumbles and I had to only respond with gratefully lending my shoulder as a resting spot for his head. Considering he literally had to bend his whole body to do so every time he does this, I never understood how he found this comfortable. We shared a comfortable silence for a minute, sipping on our wine, the bottle nearly finished. The courage coming from it is telling me this would be the perfect time. It's the right setting to finally tell him that my feelings go beyond friendship and that it has been since the first month. The thought made me nervous at first, but there had been so many signs from him that had me thinking he's feeling the same way. Maybe those were just my expectations and how loving Harry is, but every time I look at him, I'm mesmerized. "Honestly don't know what I'd do without you bubs." Harry suddenly says and I snap out of my thoughts to glance down at him staring at his empty glass. My heart started beating fast and my breathe hitched when he pulls away only a few inches away to look back at me "This was a tough year and you've been there with me through it all, haven't been this close to someone in that short of time." He says lowly, looking right into my eyes. I take his hand in my small ones and play with his fingers in comfort, as we reflected on how this was both the best and worst year for him. While he became such a successful solo artist after the band and created the best relationships in his life, he reached a mental low dealing with his own insecurities and went through a breakup that took a major toll on him. They ended on good terms, but Harry went through the aftermath of a loss alone. I came in a month after his break up, hired as a lyricist to help him get out of this creative block but also to help him realize how much he was really worth as a person. It was a gradual slow process of friendship at the start, but it quickly blossomed into becoming best friends, growing feelings in between for me. "You're so good to me, I don't deserve it." He was so close and I couldn't tell if I was leaning in or not. My chest feels like it's bursting. "Harry, you've done so much for me, don't put yourself down like that. You deserve my love, mkay?" He looked so vulnerable, staring into my eyes as I couldn't pinpoint what emotion he was feeling right now. I was always able to read Harry easily, but maybe it was the wine that made it harder to understand what was racing through his mind. I couldn't register it. His lips on mine were foreign but felt right, like they fit perfectly. His hands cupping my face gently made me realize this was actually happening. My best friend who I've loved for so long was finally kissing me. "You absolutely deserve mine... " *** My anxiety was getting the best of me. The party wasn't like any other rowdy and crowded New Year's Eve celebration. It was a gathering of close friends and mutual at a penthouse with just enough drinking and fun shenanigans. I knew all these people and they knew me, yet it wasn't easy to breathe regularly for some reason. I smiled and laughed along with the conversation among the circle of friends I situated myself in with Harry standing to my right, two people in-between us. I anxiously played with my fingers wrapped around a bulbous wine glass, zoned out but somewhat participating with the group. I caught his eyes, both of us giving a smile when he shot me a quick goofy face. His eyes trailed down to my hands, an obvious tell. I respond with a reassuring smile, placing my hand on my chest to which he steps outside and moves to stand next to me. I soften as he places a hand casually on my back, rubbing up and down. The nerves die down a bit. Usually, I would of been full comfortable but it was different now. After the kiss Harry and I shared, nothing had changed as much as I wanted it too. There was still the casual flirting and touchy gestures, but other than that, Harry never brought it up. "Soo, what now?" I had asked him when he dropped me off at my apartment. He gives me a tight smile and takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "Still my best girl." I was confused afterwards, not fully understanding how he felt towards me. "Hey, I kind of wanted to talk to you about yesterday... " I approached him in the studio, his sweater keeping me warm that morning. "Oh yeah, you never told me what you wanted for Christmas. And by the way, I'm gonna need that sweater back sooner or later." He chuckles, going back to writing down chord progressions. Him avoiding the subject made me think he didn't want to talk about it, so I stopped trying. It made me insecure a bit to show him any type of affection back, but I didn't have it in me to tell him when I'm engulfed in his huge frame, feeling safe and happy at the moment. What made me snap out of my thoughts was his hand leaving my back and slipping into his jacket pocket. He then started being part of the funny story Mitch was telling, including his own side and little comedic comments that made the group laugh. As much as it brought a smile to my face, there was nothing more I wanted to do than take his arm, wrap it around me and kiss his cheek before laying my head on his chest. He took a second here and there to glance at me, probably aware how tired i was getting even though it was only a few minutes before midnight. The kiss defiantly affected something here, as much as Harry was trying to show that it hasn't, I can at least appreciate the acknowledgment that he shared similar feelings towards me. Maybe this was him thinking about the possibilities afterwards, knowing Harry wasn't very much a confrontational person and has taken time to learn to process things more logically rather than pure emotional instinct. When he catches me staring and throws a knowing smirk followed by a wink, I melt right on the spot but at the same time, holding back from rolling my eyes. I felt his stare kept on me when I looked away, feeling less frustrated and more understanding of his situation. Maybe I do just need to give him time... When I looked back at him, he was now looking away at something else apart from the group. I didn't give it a second glance till I noticed he was fully distracted before Mitch kept calling his name but getting no response back. Harry was in deep trance at something more fascinating than his friend's story, and when I caught sight of what was distracting him, I fully understood why. She stood out, so it wasn't to hard to point her out. But of course she would, she looks stunning in that dress that happens to only be a different shade of color from mine. The natural glam and brightening smile on her face as she talked to mutual friends perfected her look, but it was the sound of her melodic voice that just set the deal. It was her laughter from across the room that caught his attention first, what made him break his gaze on me to her. My first thought was concern for Harry and if he was suddenly feeling overwhelmed or distraught by her presence after a breakup. But then I looked back at him and only saw longing and adoration. It was a look I only was recently familiarized with. I purse my lips to hide the frown set on my face while I felt my heart beat much faster initially, watching him mesmerized as she walks across the floor to greet more party guests. Her blue eyes wide and shining, most likely something Harry was dying to see once again as he hoped she would turn his way. Is this what hopelessness feels like? Mitch gave up on trying to catch his attention as soon as he realized who Harry was looking at, and so did the rest of the group. But here I was, desperately looking up at him in hopes that he would suddenly break away and meet my own eyes that stood right next to him. "Guys! The count downs about to start!" Someone called out, followed by cheers and applause as everyone slowly started gathering towards the balcony to see the firework show and celebration of the city below. She moves away from the crowd though, choosing to be semi alone next to the aquarium with a glass of martini in her hand. More people started crowding around us, the group disintegrated into a whole, but my focus was on Harry. As much as my anxiety and tiredness was getting worse, it couldn't compare to the ache in my chest when he takes a hesitant step towards her direction. In a second, my hand flies towards his and gently tugs to me in a last ditch of desperation while I softly call out his name. Maybe it was the way he stopped and turned his head slightly before completely pulling away and walking towards her, leaving me engulfed with the crowd alone. Or that I could picture the loving look on his face when she finally sees him approaching and gives him a welcoming smile while the sound of people counting down from 20 is muddled into the background. All I could imagine to hear was his small 'hi' and compliment for how beautiful she looks, knowing how nervous he would be. "3, 2, 1! Happy New Years!" The celebration of those around me drowned out my glossy eyes as I see Heather take Harry's hand in hers, sharing that same complete adoration look on her face that I was only just becoming familiar with.
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part 2 A/N: feedback would greatly be appreciated :)
#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfiction#one direction#heather#i really listened to this song on loop for 2 hours going through it
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Tear You Apart
Chapter 3/4
AO3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/80048179
Pairing:
Laszlo x Reader
Summary:
Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist’s new assistant, who’s presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.
(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)
Warnings:
Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Abuse
(More Future Warnings TBD)
Notes:
Adding an extra warning for this chapter, just in case.
This chapter deals with themes of violence, kidnapping, captivity, non-consensual touching, non-consensual groping, and implied abuse.
Chapter 3: Lily
Dr. Kreizler was not a man who considered himself superstitious.
Ever since he was a boy, he clung to his curiosity, searching for answers through science rather than religion in order to understand the world around him, even if it left his reputation tarnished to the more traditionally-raised, God-fearing socialites of New York. Yet, even as a child, there had always been a darkness that surrounded him, drawing in trouble wherever he went. No, Laszlo was not superstitious, but there seemed no other term to describe himself other than cursed.
You had been missing for two days, and even logic and reason could not explain why history seemed destined to repeat itself.
Following your night at the opera, Kreizler had thought it odd that you had not appeared at the Institute the following day. You had not seemed unwell, during your outing- quite the opposite, actually- and yet the fact remained that your presence was notably absent. At first, the alienist pushed his worry aside. After all, you had spent what was supposed to be a night of rest by his side. He reasoned that perhaps you had simply drained yourself, driving yourself to exhaustion with both the investigation and the concern you had displayed for him. But what truthfully unsettled him was the lack of warning of your absence. It was unlike you.
Regardless, even with your absence, Kreizler quickly worked through the day's sessions and duties, leaving most of the day free to continue working on the investigation. Your theory the day before had intrigued him, and gave valuable insight into what the killer's motives and background could be. With a newfound momentum, Laszlo called for Stevie, sending the ward to gather his colleagues here at the Institute, in order to follow this new train of thought. He also instructed Stevie to find you, deciding that it would be best to check on you, if only to calm his own anxieties. With that, all that was left to do was wait.
Marcus and Lucius were the first to arrive, punctual as always. Not wishing to waste any time, the twins immediately went to discuss their new findings with the doctor, picking out bits of information that may be relevant to figuring out the killer's identity. Kreizler listened, drawing connections to their findings with the theory you had created. John was the next to arrive, quickly followed by Sara. The two had not had much to work with, in terms of narrowing down who the killer may be, but found a couple police reports and articles that had spoken about similar incidents. Laszlo nodded, giving his own opinions and comments occasionally, but his mind continued to drift elsewhere. He had pulled out his pocket watch, when he heard a new set of footsteps. Quickly, he looked up, only to see Stevie once again. Ushering the boy inside, he asked if he had found you.
"I tried, Dr. Kreizler, but I couldn't find her anywhere." Stevie explained. "Even went by the house a few times, but no one ever answered. Her door was locked, so I thought maybe she came back here."
Laszlo sighed, audibly upset by the news. "Right, thank you Stevie."
This caught the attention of everyone in the room. After the boy left the room, Sara turned to Laszlo.
"Has something happened?" She asked, sensing Laszlo's growing worry. "How long has she been missing?"
The alienist simply shook his head. "Since this morning. At first I thought I was simply overreacting, but now I'm not so sure..."
Saying his admission aloud, Laszlo realized how troubling the whole situation had seemed. He explained where you had been last night, and how Kreizler had made sure to get you home safely after the opera, only to find that you had not come to the Institute today. John stood up from his seat, sending a glance to Sara and the brothers. They stayed silent, throwing silent glances back and forth, as if talking through looks alone. Finally, Sara stepped forward.
"I believe we should go to her home, ourselves. If we find that she is safe, then we can continue our investigation."
"What're you saying?" Lucius interjected, stunned by Sara's proposal. "What would you have us do? Having the five of us show up unannounced to (y/n)'s home might be an overreaction, considering it hasn't even been a day."
"You may be right," Sara starts. "but I'd like to make sure nothing has happened to her. I won't be able to shed the guilt if the worst has come."
Laszlo's heart sank at her words, reminding him of the very same doubts and worries he had told you of the night before.
Moving quickly, Laszlo went to grab his jacket, placing it on as he spoke. "I'm going-"
Once more, Lucius was wary. "Dr. Kreizler-"
"-stay here if you must, Lucius." He turned, leaving no room for argument as he walked towards the exit.
Reluctantly, Lucius followed after Laszlo, with Marcus's hand on his shoulder. Sara and John were already standing, ready to leave with the doctor, the same memory of the Beecham case fresh in their mind. With that, it didn't take long for them to reach your home, a mere few blocks away from the Institute. It was a relatively small building, not like the towering apartments that surrounded it on either side. It was as though someone had taken a cottage from the countryside and placed it right on the streets of New York.
There were no lights on, by the windows. A fact that shouldn't have been strange, considering it was now late into the day. Even so, it caused a sense of looming dread to enter Laszlo's mind. It felt so similar when he had returned to his own home all those months ago, as though time was repeating itself. First with Mary, now with you. As the group called and knocked on your door, drawing the scrutinizing and curious stares of the people passing by, Laszlo concluded that he must have been cursed. How else could he explain the events unfolding? Truly, everyone that was drawn towards him seemed destined to either leave or be taken from him.
There had been one thing that gave him hope that it would be different.
With Mary, she had been a constant, comforting presence. What he felt towards her had not always been there, not until much later after their first interactions, but it had been a source of happiness and warmth. The feeling of being known so completely, without needing so much as a word being spoken. Mary had brought out a kindness in him that even he had feared he did not possess. It had been sweet and somewhat innocent love, regardless of the rather unusual dynamic.
With you, it was a similar feeling, but not entirely the same. Where his feelings for Mary were more subtle, there had always been an underlying want in his relationship with you. At first, it had simply been a need to understand you. How you could be so similar to him, sharing that same curiosity for the human mind, yet still be able to catch him by surprise with your insights. He wanted to know about you, every little detail. Learning what made you tick, what made you happy, and what parts of your mind you had not shown to anyone else. Yet, even that wasn't enough. It wasn't until much recently, had Laszlo deduced the source of this incessant need for you. Where his feelings for Mary had made him recognize the lighter side of him, you made him realize that perhaps the darkness there was deeper than he knew. But he welcomed that new feeling just as enthusiastically, after the events of the opera.
What he felt for Mary and for you were very different, but just as intense. He had hoped, foolishly, that those differences would change something. And yet it seemed as if history was playing out again, as it had before.
"Unlock the door."
Laszlo's words were met with hesitation by the group, before they noticed the clear distress in his expression. Marcus nodded, placing the bag he held down in front of the door, before crouching down to pick the lock. Once unlocked, Sara opened the door, leaning in through the frame to look inside. From what she could tell, the study and kitchen were empty, and she could hear no sounds of movement, even after she called your name. Slowly, one-by-one, the five of them entered your home.
"Marcus and I will check upstairs," Sara decided, earning a nod from the Isaacson brother. "I believe there are a few rooms further back."
As they split up inside the house, Laszlo found himself at a loss. Although he had stopped by a couple of times, he had never truly taken the time to examine the home. Outside of the paintings that decorated the walls and the furniture provided to you, the home was extremely bare. Only a handful of personal items were scattered about, as well as a couple of books he had given you to read. For each and every room the doctor passed, it dawned on him that you had not been exaggerating when you had told him you dropped everything to move to New York. He wondered just how much you had left behind.
"Dr. Kreizler!"
Marcus's voice called out, clearly alarmed, causing the air to still throughout the house. Rushing upstairs, John, Lucius, and Laszlo all went to join Marcus and Sara, only stopping once they saw the man exit what appeared to be your bedroom. A small bouquet of roses in his hands.
You awoke with your eyes closed. The only thing grounding you to reality was the steady, throbbing pulse in the back of your head, causing a dull ache to pass over you with every beat. With a low groan, you blinked, as you thought about how rough work at the Institute was going to be, if this headache was going to plague you. As you shot up from the bed, letting out a painful cry, you went to raise your hand to you head. Only for them to be pulled back harshly, by a binding pressure against your wrists.
You blinked, and suddenly the pain in your head was in the back of your mind. Your eyes shot to your hands, ignoring the sting of the sudden action. A bundle of knots bound you, as a rope dug into your skin, leashing you to the unfamiliar bed frame behind you.
No. no. no no no. You thought in a panic, realizing the gravity of your current situation.
You took in your surroundings, seated on a small bed in the center of a room. There were no windows, and only a small lamp by the door lit the small space. The walls were bare, save for the portrait of a young woman. The only exit was a wooden door, with cracks forming from the bottom. Your heart racing, you tried to recall your memory of the events last night. What had happened to you? Where were you? Who brought you here?
You remembered the opera, and your pleasant time with Laszlo there, and how he had escorted you back to your home. So why couldn't you remember falling asleep there? Why were you still wearing the same dress you had spent hours deciding on? You had watched the carriage ride far out of sight, Stevie at the reins. You had opened the door to your home, without the use of your key, as it had been unlocked already.
Unlocked. Despite having purposefully locked it before leaving for the night.
"Stupid." Your breath hitched, as you cursed yourself for not noticing such a mistake. You hadn't even realized. Too giddy and tired from the emotional events of the opera.
Your heart raced, as you grew more and more frustrated, causing you to tug at your bindings. But no luck came. You thought back to what you did after entering your home. You had placed a few things down, before retiring to your bedroom, in order to change into your night clothes and sleep. But you never made it that far. In a sudden moment of clarity, a memory returned to you. You had sat down in front of your vanity mirror, before noticing a flash of red in the mirror. A bouquet of roses. Perhaps it was the fear and shock of the realization that the killer they’d been hunting had been in your home that caused you to lose consciousness. However, the pain in your head suggested otherwise.
Whatever the case was, you were now trapped in a room, after being taken from your home by the very person you had spent months trying to find. But aside from the distressing predicament of your kidnapping, what unsettled you most was the sudden deviation in behavior. If you truly had been taken by the killer you were searching for, why were you still alive? Why did he take you? What did he plan to do to you?
You didn't want to wait to find out, but found that you had little choice in the matter. No matter how many times you tugged and pulled at your bindings, the restraint never weakened. You had tried untying the knots on the bed frame, in hopes that you may be able to escape, even if your hands were tied together. The knots however, were tight and overlapping each other, and no amount of strength that you possessed could undo them. In desperation, you looked at the wooden door, knowing that it was all that stood between you and freedom. If you only could unbind your hands. But even if you had escaped, you didn't know where you were, or who's home you were in.
The answer didn't come till what felt like hours later. You had sat yourself up into a more comfortable position on the bed, where the rope would not pull at your now-aching wrists, and jumped as the wooden door suddenly opened.
Your heart leapt to your throat, and all you could seem to do was stare at the figure in the doorway. You were shocked. Your were speechless. You wanted to deny it, to try and lie to yourself by saying that he couldn't be the one who took you. That his presence here was merely some miraculous coincidence. But you weren't that naive. Still, never had you thought the same man who would regularly stop by your house could potentially be a murderer.
"Mr. Arnett." You breathed out, finally.
"Good evening, my dear." He greeted, his tone just as casual as any other time you had spoken. As though it was normal, to have you tied up in a room against your will.
As he stepped into the room, you found yourself growing more and more anxious with each of his steps. He had asked you something, a question you couldn't recall. You couldn't even find it within you to respond, knowing that anything you said might make your situation worse. If Arnett truly was the same man who’d been killing the women of New York, then it’s likely he’d have no issue using that same violence against you. Although, he had already changed his behavior, choosing to attack you in your own home, rather than on the street. That alone revealed that he was unpredictable.
"What..what am I doing here?" You asked, fearfully. You wanted your tone to come off as more questioning, rather than upset. You knew that if Laszlo’s theory was correct, the only reason you weren’t dead yet was because the fantasy behind the murders relied on your acceptance of the man. Still unsure of his intentions with you, you shuddered at the thought of letting the man do whatever he wanted.
"I'm taking care of you."
The vagueness of the answer, and the emptiness in his tone, as he spoke sent a wave of fear over you. The man took a step towards you, right next to the bed you were tied to. You sat up, moving away from him, by instinct. You had hardly noticed the tray Arnett had been carrying, until he placed it down on the foot of the bed. A wide assortment of fruits, breads, and foods were placed onto the tray, along with a single red rose. Taking a seat next to you, he lifted something off of the item.
"A strawberry, from my garden." He explained, as though that was the cause of your nervous behavior.
You didn’t feel hungry, but felt a sense of relief at the act. Only because that meant he didn’t plan on harming you…yet. Once more, he placed the strawberry up to your lips.
Arnett's jaw tensed, as he spoke again. This time he sounded as though he were trying to restrain himself. "You don't need to be afraid of me."
Afraid to anger him, you took a bite, before attempting to distance yourself from him further, if that were even possible at this point. He praised you for the action, as an owner would praise a pet. Bitterness rose from your chest, creating a bad taste in your mouth. Whether it was the fruit he gave you, or the reaction you had to his words, you weren't sure.
"See, I knew you'd be good," He spoke, condescendingly. "just like my Lily."
You swallowed back a grimace. "Lily?"
Arnett blinked, as if confused for a moment, before giving a forced chuckle. His eyes turned to the portrait in the room, of the young woman. "I must apologize, it's rather rude of me to compare you to my wife- ex-wife. "
He quickly corrected himself, before looking back at you, his eyes falling to your wrists. More specifically, the red burns on them, from your previous attempts at escape. He reached out, without warning, before scolding you profusely. He spoke only about how should be more careful, as to not harm yourself further. In your upset state, you didn't even think before instinctively ripping your hands from his hold, not wanting him to so much as touch you.
Arnett's almost-caring expression fell in an instant, before revealing an angered scowl. He grabbed your arms again, only now his grip was harsh and painful. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have bruises later.
"Don't do that." He hissed. "Don't you ever do that!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, shaking as you quickly apologized in an attempt to calm his sudden temper. Blinking, you searched for any excuse that might help you. "I'm sorry.. I.. It's inappropriate, I wasn't expecting you to.."
Once more, you cursed yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse. However, even as you closed your eyes, you felt the grip on your hand lose its hold. When you looked back at Arnett, his scowl had disappeared. He thought for a moment, before a slight smile crept over his lips.
"You don't need to worry about such things anymore, my dear." He sighed. "Now that you're here with me, you won't have to feign innocence for the sake of appearances. We can speak freely now."
As you stared into his eyes, you came to understand that in some twisted way, his mind had made up a lie: making him believe you held some form of silent connection with him. Twisting your interactions into subtle advances, when they had merely been polite conversations. Every small talk in the study of your home, he had taken it as a sign of reciprocated affections. Rather than what they were. And he truly believed that lie, which was what frightened you the most.
You were silent, as he ran a thumb over your injured hand. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but you viewed it more as a threat. You knew that if you pulled your hands way, as you wanted to, you'd be met with more aggression. Eventually, his focus returned to the tray he had brought in, handing you the rose as he placed another fruit to your mouth. You were fighting back a mixture of emotions, as you attempted to process the situation. You wanted to snap, and tell him that he didn't need to feed you himself. You wanted kick and fight, if only to save your pride. But you knew that none of these actions would help you, and would more likely cause Arnett to harm you.
Instead, you tried to refocus your frustrations into questioning Arnett's plan for you.
"Mr. Arnett, I..I find myself at..at a loss as to why you've brought me here." You muttered, weakly. "Surely, it's not simply to 'speak freely', as you put it? I can't help but think there is another reason.."
The older man scoffed, as if surprised you even had to ask.
"Well, I've been left with no other choice, haven't I? You're forced to spend every day and night fretting over the little problems of a half-crazed alienist, who insists on keeping you by his side." He grit his teeth, looking around the room for a moment. "But that no longer matters. You won’t need to worry anymore about Kreizler taking his liberties with you, my dear."
The bruising grasp on your hand returned. His voice and expression reflected anger, though it didn't seem directed at you this time. His eyes were still staring off at nothing in particular, and it seemed as though he wasn't even aware of the venom in his tone. Ignoring your pain for a moment, you feared what he meant, upon mentioning Laszlo. Was he merely speaking his suspicions out of a jealous delusion? Or had he known- had he seen- your actions with Laszlo at the opera last night?
You let out another pained gasp, causing Arnett to release his hold on you. This time, he stood up, staring down at you with regret and fear. Almost dejectedly, he grabbed the tray once more, and made his way back towards the wooden door. But not without looking back at the portrait once more.
"Lily was as delicate as you."
A time passed before the door opened again.
You had fought to stay awake, in order to try and defend yourself against Arnett, even though you were essentially at his mercy. But the reality was that you were exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. The stress of the case, Laszlo, and your own current situation had left you utterly broken. As sleep came for you, your eyes fogged with tears, as you thought back to the happiness you felt just a night before.
When you finally awoke, you heard a loud thud, as though something had fallen somewhere in the building you were being kept in. Your heart pounded, half hopeful and half afraid. The wooden door to the dim room opened, your heart sinking as you faced Arnett once more, his face red with anger as he began yelling out, seething with every breath.
"He comes to my place of work, accusing me!"
Arnett raves, red in the face, as he circles around the room. His sentences slur together, his words coming out faster than you can understand them. You sit up quickly, bracing yourself, as it's all you can do in the moment. The man's eyes were wide and his gaze flicked from place to place, as if searching for something as he continued to ramble on. You noticed how his hands were clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms and his knuckles becoming a white color. Fearing what he may do, you kept your mouth shut, hoping in vain that he might forget that you're there.
"-Slandering my name and reputation!” He heaved out a heavy breath, before his stare finally finds its destination on you.
Whatever pleasant facade the man placed on for you before was gone now, overcome by his anger. He rushed forwards, pushing you back against the headboard of the bed, placing a hand on your face, pressing hard on your cheeks and jaw. Startled, you froze, unable to even move, except for the trembling throughout your body.
"Who is he to you?" He demanded, an accusatory glare cutting through you.
You choked out a reply, asking who or what he was talking about. That only made his grip stronger, squeezing against your bones enough to make them ache.
“That damned Kreizler!” He spat. “Is he truly so dependent on you, that he cannot go a single day without you?! Is your company so enjoyable that he cannot help himself?”
Arnett’s words were spiteful and insulting. Not only towards Laszlo, but yourself as well. It seemed that while Arnett did not seem to know the extent of your relationship to the alienist, the suspicion was enough to drive him over the edge. You only feared what would happen, should he learn what occurred at the opera. As your mind raced with your thoughts, you hadn't noticed how your captor now moved over you, trapping you under him. His spare hand trailed over you, his glare burning holes into you as he grabbed at your form. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the heartbeat that now pulsed in your ears. You twisted and turned, biting into your cheek as your body moved on its own, trying to do anything to get him off of you. A quick slap stunned you, causing you to recoil from the force.
Still, Arnett seemed lost to his ramblings. “He claims himself a gentleman! Tell me, do you enjoy the attention he gives you? Perhaps I’ve been mistreating you, perhaps you enjoy the way he takes advantage of you-“
Mistreatment was an understatement, but you dared not speak your mind in this moment. The feeling of his spare hand pushing a trail up your leg sent a wave of disgust and fear through you. Desperately, you spoke, saying anything that came to mind, hoping to calm the clearly unhinged man.
“No, no Mr. Arnett, please!”
You cried, gasping as your throat seemed to close off on its own.
“You’re- you’re right! He’s- He’s not a gentlemen, not like you. Louis-“
You barely registered what you were saying, only focusing on pleading for your life. You continued, speaking whatever you thought the man would want to hear. As soon as they left your mouth, you hated every lie you spoke about Laszlo. How you were catering to Mr. Arnett’s sick fantasy. It seemed to work, however, as the man paused his assault on you. His grip on your chin lifted your gaze up to him, making you stare through tears to look him in the eye.
Your voice shook as you spoke, going on and on about how you were being mistreated and how Arnett was a gentlemen, as much as it pained you to do so. You empathized the phrase, hoping it might somehow make him stop. His actions were abhorrent, yet he seemed to pride himself on being the gentleman he had tricked you into believing he was. You played into Arnett's fantasy, making yourself appear as some damsel in need of saving and that Arnett was the man who would do it. All you could do was hope your words satisfied him.
His hand released its hold on your leg, but you did not allow yourself to sigh in relief. The hold on your chin disappeared, as he gently placed his palm against your cheek. A soft smile met his lips, yet his eyes remained vacant and cold. His voice was distant once more, as if remembering something.
“You truly are just like my Lily.” He pressed his lips against you, holding you there. You didn’t move. When he finally parted, he gave a reassuring smile, something meant to comfort you, before saying: “He won’t mistreat you anymore, my dear. I’ll make sure of it.”
The older man stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit, before turning from you. Your heart sank at his words, leaving you in despair even as he left the room. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you cried into the wrinkled fabric of your dress, muffling the sound in order to keep Arnett from hearing you.
It felt like years, as another day passed. Your heart ached along with your shoulders and wrists, as you stared blankly at the wooden door. There were moments when you asked yourself if this barren room would be the last thing you saw. If the painted, empty eyes of Lily Arnett would be staring down at you, as you joined her in death. But there was hope.
Arnett’s outburst had been sudden and terrifying. But in his state, he’d given you the knowledge that Laszlo and the others were close, already questioning the man. Already suspecting the truth. You just needed to keep him satisfied, until your friends could figure out how to find you. If they found you.
When the wooden door opened once more, Arnett was bringing in another tray of food and water for you. As he came into the light of the lamp, your attention was drawn to the cut along the man's temple. Given your situation, this shouldn't have surprised you, but in all the time you've known the man you’d never seen the man with even a scratch on him, despite the violent attacks he had carried out. Before your abduction, you knew the man to be of good standing in the eyes of society. Someone obsessed with his reputation as a proper gentleman. Someone who’d never be caught up in a fight, not one that would cause such a wound.
You ask what happened, less out of concern and more out of curiosity, desperately wanting to learn what you could about the events playing out in the world outside of the small room. Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as Arnett silently approached, not answering you. Instead, he lifted the food for you to eat. Slowly, you took a bite, not wanting to upset him further. After finishing the bits fruit and bread he initially offered, you found yourself growing more and more restless, due to his unsettling silence. As he lifted another fruit to you, you turned your head slowly, until eventually you found yourself looking up at the woman in the portrait.
Twice now he had mentioned his late wife…Lily. Some deep-rooted part of you felt as though her death had not been some random accident or illness, given how Arnett had consistently been comparing the two of you. No… By now, you suspected that perhaps the poor woman had shared your fate, falling victim to her husband's erratic behavior.
You opened your mouth, your throat dry as you carefully said: “I…I realize I never asked about your wife, before. If it is not too upsetting, tell me, how… how did she pass?”
Arnett blinked, as if snapped from his silence. A vacant expression crossed over his face, sending a frightening chill through you. It was identical to the one Laszlo had at the morgue, as the alienist was trying to gain insight into the killer’s mind. You had trusted Laszlo, but it was different now. Now you looked that very killer in the eye.
“I believe I told you. She was delicate." He paused, staring you down, before glancing away quickly. "Now eat.”
A horrible pit in your stomach grew, as your mind raced to create images of what you suspected befell the late Mrs. Arnett. If his lack of hesitation of using force against you was any indication…It was slowly becoming evident that perhaps she may have been the first. The catalyst that created the man you faced now. You swallow back the lump in your throat, speechless. In your shock, you had forgotten what Arnett had ordered you to do. It was too late to fix your mistake, as the man quickly took your silence as refusal. In an instant, the tray was shoved aside, slammed to the floor, as his form climbed over you.
"You ungrateful bitch!" His hands clamped down on your throat, using a strength that felt as though it would snap your life away at any second. You hands pulled down on the ropes, having enough length to allow you to claw at his grasp. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?"
You struggled for breath, your heartbeat becoming the only sound in your ears before a slam at the door snapped you from your panicked state. A voice- no, voices- spoke loudly. You didn’t process what was said, only that the weight of Arnett shifted. You found yourself placed between Arnett and the unknown parties, a sharp pressure against your neck. As you gathered your senses, you realized the pressure was a knife, one Arnett had kept hidden away. You weren't sure if he had it before, or if he had planned to use it against you before being interrupted.
John and Sara stood before you, the woman aiming a gun towards Arnett. Though, with you placed in between them, the weapon was also directed towards you. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. If you weren’t so focused on the knife’s weight against you, your heart surely would have leapt with happiness. They had found you! But the confrontation was not over.
"You have no right, breaking in here!” Arnett seethed. “I’ll have you arrested!”
Sara was quick to respond, not even flinching from his words. “Call them if you like, but I doubt the police would be interested with us, upon finding a woman unwillingly locked up on your property.”
Arnett shook his head, his breath coming out in heavy exhales. His voice was shaking. Out of anger, fear, and confusion. “No, you’re wrong! She..she wants to be here! Tell them!”
The knife pressed harder against you, as Arnett whispered unintelligible words against your ear. You gasped, closing your eyes, as if everything would disappear if you didn't watch. Another sound of footsteps grabbed your attention, forcing you to look up once more. A third figure emerged through the door, joining John and Sara. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, upon seeing the tense stand-off between them and Arnett. With you at the center.
“Laszlo!” You called, the name falling from your mouth before you could stop it.
A vice grip found the back of your neck, making you gasp in pain. His whisper was erratic but you could just make out: "How dare you say his name in front of me-"
The knife pressed harder, a small sting followed by a warm trickling feeling. His cheek pressed against your ear, speaking lowly. “Tell them you want to be here. With me.”Another pause of silence made him seethe. "Answer me, Lily!”
Arnett’s grip on reality, whatever remained, was slipping as the scene played out before you. Still, you refused. Laszlo was here, They were all here! You were so close to freedom that you couldn't bare the thought of him taking it away. Tears reached your eyes, as you glanced at the faces you've grown to know.
“There’s no where to go, Mr. Arnett.” Sara said, regaining your attention. She looked back at you, rather than your captor. She looked unsure, as she aimed her gun toward the two of you, in contrast to her confident words. “If you truly care for her, as I suspect you do, then let her go.”
“No, nonono..” Arnett’s breaths became erratic. “She belongs with me! Tell them, my dear, now.”
Still you remain silent, biting back a cry.
Arnett snapped, cursing you, as the knife lifted for a moment, before turning fully towards you, intended to pierce your throat. In that split moment, you heard the loud blast of gunfire, followed by the metallic smell of gunpowder. A ringing overtook your senses, followed closely by a burning in your shoulder.
Then...
thud
thud
thud
Your heartbeat signaled to you that you were alive, but you couldn't help yourself but think it was a trick. One last cruel joke for the entertainment of a higher power.
Your mind and vision seemed to blur, as each passing moment came by in flashes. You no longer felt Arnetts breath against your ear, yet the intense pain in your shoulder remained. You felt a pair of arms reach around you, as the restraining pull of ropes on your wrists disappeared. The cool breeze of air hit your face at some point, before the rest faded away to darkness.
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Sparks Fly, Chapter 13
Title: Sparks Fly
Rating: NC-17
Synopsis: Everybody knows sparks fly whenever Barry Allen and Iris West are together. Their mutual animosity is legendary. But when Iris returns to Central City to investigate recent sightings of a mysterious red streak, she discovers a hero she just can’t resist…and Barry struggles to hide the unrequited feelings he can’t deny.
Chapters: 13/?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Iris struggled to her feet, unable to fully comprehend the sight of her father before her. Wait…her father? Was it really? It looked like him, but there was something ever so slightly off. It looked like him, and it sounded like him. But it didn’t feel like him. “Dad?” she ventured again, more cautiously. Her eyes narrowing, she took a step back, her voice more confident as she declared, “You’re not my father.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Who are you?”
He smiled, but there was no real emotion behind it. “That’s not easy to explain.” He stood, but when she tensed, he didn’t approach. “I am the speed force, the source of Barry Allen’s powers. The source of all speedster’s powers. In my natural state, I have no real form that you could perceive. I took this face because I thought it might be easier for you to accept what I have to tell you if it came from someone you trust.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wrong. I don’t know who – what – you are, but you…he was my father! How dare you?”
Joe disappeared, and she heard Barry’s voice behind her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Is this face better?”
Iris spun around so fast, she staggered to the side. Her breath caught in her throat. The person in front of her looked exactly like him, but there was no warmth in his eyes. She didn’t even realize how accustomed she was to seeing it – even during those years that she and Barry swore they hated each other – until it was gone. She felt a sharp pain in her heart, like she was being stabbed in the chest, and she pressed her hand against the invisible wound. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
The speed force personification in the form of Barry looked sad. “You have to understand. I chose Barry Allen. I gave him my power. And, in return, he creates me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she pointed out with a frown.
She didn’t know if the speed force could be perturbed, but it certainly didn’t seem to be made so by the reminder of its own illogic.
“I know. Eobard brought you here because he hates Barry, and he wants to destroy the Flash. He knows the best way to do that is to kill you.”
“Why me?” she asked with a whisper. “I mean, I know that Barry and I are friends, but we’re barely even that. Or, at least, we haven’t been friends for very long. Is the Man in Yellow – Eobard, I assume – is he really from the future?” The speed force nodded, and Iris felt herself tear up at the confirmation of her greatest fears. “Then why me? Why is he trying to hurt me? I don’t have any powers. I could even hurt him! Why is he doing all this? Why did he kill my father? I’m a nobody!”
The speed force seemed to sigh. “Oh, Iris. You are the most important person in the world to the Flash. Eobard has never been able to defeat the Flash, but if he kills you, it would destroy him.”
Iris shook her head firmly. “No. That’s a lie. I already told you. Okay, so maybe we’re friends now, but we hated each other! For years! I’m not that important to Barry. Maybe things could have been different, if – well, that doesn’t matter. He may care about me, but he lived without me for years. He could go on now.”
The personification of Barry tilted his head and threw her a considering look. “Could he?” he mused. Heavy mist poured through the windows and doors, obscuring the walls around her until they disappeared completely from view. Alarmed, Iris gasped, feeling the urge to run, but she was surrounded. There was no place to go.
Then, in the mist around her, images formed. Her and Barry, repeated a hundred times. A thousand. Their voices swept around her, like water lapping over rocks, impossible to distinguish one from the next. But she found that as she focused on each couple, their voices became a bit more distinct, and she could make out their words.
“Iris. My Iris.”
“I love and trust you, Barry Allen, the Flash. And I always will.”
“- cutest nerd I know.”
“I Barry, take you Iris…”
“What is this?” she whispered, spinning around.
“These are other versions of you. You and Barry. In other worlds, other times. The number of possible realities is infinite, but the two of you are destined to fall in love in every one of them.”
“No,” she whispered, as the visions multiplied around her, their voices so loud they drowned out her thoughts.
“As long as I remember Iris, I’ll be all right.”
“-realize you’re wearing slippers?”
“You don’t drink coffee? Everyone in Central City drinks –”
“-twins!”
“Can’t a viable single lady ask an attractive young man out for lunch?”
“I loved you before I even knew what the word love meant.”
“You’re everything to me, and you always have been, and the sound of your voice will always bring me home.”
“No,” she tried again, but the speed force didn’t seem to hear her. She felt tears coursing down her cheeks, but as much as she wanted to close her eyes, deny the sight before her, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“Marry me, Iris.”
“Iris, will you marry me?”
“All I wanna do is come runnin’ home to you…”
“-guess you’ll have to make an honest man out of me.”
“Marry me…”
“Iris, will you marry…”
“Marry…”
“Marr-”
“Stop it!” Iris yelled, pressing her hands against her ears to block out the rippling cascade of proposals that surrounded her. A thousand Barry Allens. A thousand Iris Wests. More. The force of their love was too much to withstand, washing over her. Crushing her under its weight. It was too much pressure. Too much expectation. She and Barry had barely had time to come to terms with the mistakes in their past; how was she supposed to deal with this? With destiny?
All of the visions of Barry and Iris disappeared. All but one. He looked so young. So carefree. An image of herself appeared before him, looking so innocent and trusting. Had she ever been that young?
“Dance with me?”
“Are you sure? I’m not a great dancer,” he replied, though he didn’t hesitate as he followed after her.
She wrapped her arms around him and started to move to a song that she could hear only in her memories. “Even better.”
There had been so much potential, so much promise in their meeting; it practically radiated off the ghostly figures before her. Iris wanted to pause this moment. Stop what she knew would happen next. Beg the younger version of herself to embrace this moment – to be stronger than the fear and doubt that would soon overwhelm her. Freeze time before the pain, the loss, the misunderstandings. Before the years of lost time and wasted opportunities. “Stop it, please,” she begged in a tortured whisper. “I-I don’t want to see this.”
“That was the moment, you know.” The voice, so familiar and yet somehow so alien, tore at her heart. She knew she would regret it, but she looked into the face that was so much like that of the man who had been a part of her heart for most of her life. Even before she realized it. Equal parts longing for him to continue and dreading to hear the words, she waited. He – it, she reminded herself – didn’t disappoint. “The moment he knew he wanted to marry you one day.” He paused and then explained in a soft voice, “You and Barry are destined for each other. You always have been.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Iris stumbled back a few feet. “No. Stop it. Stop it! Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to be part of any destiny, and I don’t want it!”
He laughed, not unkindly, and when she opened her eyes, there seemed to be genuine affection in his eyes. He looked so much like the man she knew that, for a second, she could almost believe it was true. “Oh, Iris. You don’t understand. You think destiny means that you don’t have a choice, but that isn’t it at all. Loving Barry is your destiny because it is your choice. You choose each other. Time and time again.”
Figures appeared in the mist around her again, but it wasn’t another memory. This was a different Iris, a different Barry. But when they looked at each other, the love in their eyes made her ache.
“Are you ready to be Iris West-Allen?” the Barry in front of her asked softly. “I’ve always been Iris West-Allen. I’ve always been yours.”
Entranced by the vision before her, she stepped forward. Part of her hated the speed force for showing her this happier reflection of herself, but part of her yearned to see the truth of this love that could have been theirs. If only. But even as she moved, the vision melted away.
She turned to the figure beside her and almost choked at the sudden thickness in her throat, the burning sensation in her mouth, as she realized she hated the speed force in that moment. More than she could remember hating anyone, save possibly the Man in Yellow. How dare he – IT! – take on this form in front of her! How dare it wear the face of the man she was apparently born to love as it showed her the happiness that existed in every world but her own.
“How dare you? Don’t you wear his face!” she yelled, charging towards him. It. She raised her hands, wanting to strike, wanting to cause the figure before her the pain it had just bestowed upon her. “You don’t get to wear his face!” She didn’t know if she even could cause the speed force pain, but it didn’t matter. It disappeared again before she could make contact.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” it spoke softly behind her, once again bearing her father’s voice.
Just as quickly as it had overtaken her, Iris’s rage drained away, leaving her feeling…numb. She couldn’t summon her earlier denial – and certainly not her defiance. When she turned to the speed force, it was with a sense of defeat. “What do you want from me? Why are you even showing me all this?”
As she suspected, it had taken the form of her father, and a part of her wished she could curl up in his arms and pretend to herself that he could take her pain away as easily as he had when she was a little girl and everything in the world could be fixed with a kiss pressed gently atop a Band-Aid. “I’m showing you all this because you need to understand. You need to know what you are to Barry. What you always have been. Every person connected to the speed force has a lightning rod. You’re Barry’s lightning rod.”
“I don’t – lightning rod? I don’t understand. What does that even mean?”
“It means that I’m – that the speed force – is not just something that gives speedsters their powers. I am a part of them, and they are a part of me. Just like I created the Flash, and the Flash creates me in return. But that power is more than someone without that connection can control.”
Iris felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew what the speed force was trying to tell her, but she didn’t want to believe it. “Are you saying I’m in danger here? That if I don’t find a way back home, I’ll – I’ll die?”
“I would never hurt you. Not intentionally. But you were never meant to enter the speed force for very long. You are the one who brings Barry back. Not the other way around.”
The mist around her reformed into the vague shadow of a person, one hand stretched out in supplication. A faint echo of her own voice carried to her. “Barry. Barry come home to me.” The mist swirled, folding over and around the figure, and it dissipated into nothingness.
An expression of genuine sorrow crossed her father’s face as the speed force explained, “Iris, what I’m trying to tell you is that, if you stay here for very long, you may die. But without a lightning rod on the other side, I don’t know how to send you back where you belong.
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Of what feels like a redundant statement ;
I have seen things unfold and brewed on this one thought I cannot help but write about.
It hurts to say that I feel like I have to say it because otherwise it would be meaningless, but as a journalist, the one reason why this occupation exists is because no one else can tell a story, a lesson, a concept the way you do.
Therefore, I have to say what I have to say, and it won’t always be conforming. This is going to be a bit of a ramble, so only go under the cut if you are ready for a moment of reflection (as I am, while I write this nerve-wrecking piece).
I have been seeing the gratification of hate more often than not lately. It hurts, because I thought the world could be better, but it’s also reassuring to know we are all as human, acting out of our own compass, our ethics and what we believe in.
However, does it ever cross over our thoughts to “be better”, or to improve ourselves? Or are we always content with keeping ourselves to the people we know are... Accepting?
The reason why I have to say this is because I have seen people make jokes out of statements made by the people they hate. They make jokes out of the statements made by people who they consider as “cringy”, or “immature”, or whatever.
If they have sinned, if they are wrong, isn’t it better to advise them? Rather than mock their feelings? Would you have liked to be mocked after having done something wrong, or would you rather be forgiven? Would you expect to be given a chance, or would you expect others to immediately hate you for even the littlest things?
But therein comes another issue: being forgiven does not mean they have forgotten.
There are many people in this world, that you are meant to be wary of because they would not ever learn from their mistakes, but there are people who require patience, there are people who require many times to be beaten down to only learn what is good. There are people who never do.
However, does it hurt to see them at least learn of humanity and happiness? Does it? Well, consider yourself if you were in their place. Or would you think that you are still and would react “better” than them? What if you don’t, though?
I had to state this, because I see a lot of people hating it when these people have done nothing but mind their own lane and have found people who are willing to accept them in a new face and learn to get to know them. A lot of people, who consider themselves better, say “I’m happy to see them get burned, because they don’t seem like they deserve the new friends they have”.
Personally, I see this as a disgusting act of self-satisfaction, as though you believe that you are ultimately better than who these wrong-doers are. To me, that is disgusting because you refuse to acknowledge that everyone is human, that perhaps they would have improved and learned, while you are still pegging on their past mistakes against you.
I too, am guilty of this: I still get mad about my exes for the wrongs they have done, but know this to be true: that they are humans still, and perhaps in the future somebody will love them better than I have.
Another statement I have to make is that I am tired of people refusing to clear something out, to confront, and to talk.
For the past week, people have mistaken me for somebody else because I was buddy-buddy with him years ago. Personally, it is whatever if people knew me to be close to him and in fact some people have unfollowed me, blocked me, for retweeting him recently.
Which, as an update: we have mutually unfollowed each other.
My issue is highly with the fact that people refused to ask me, and outright blocked me because they thought I was this person.
I have also seen friendships get ruined because of associations: when whatever relationship people have with others is entirely their choice. I have bore understanding that I will not ever be on friendly terms with everybody, but there is no reason for me to judge a person’s character based on who they talk to, or retweet.
This is because (mind you, not everybody has to adopt this understanding or thinking) I believe in mercy, and I believe in change. For a while, perhaps, somebody could be toxic to me. However, speaking to them after a gap of many years, or months is almost always refreshing. My one example for this is my own husband.
You do not know what exactly a bond one may have with a person, it is never uniform. It is never completely all-agreeing, I have learned that because I accept that I will never agree with everything that a friend of mine does, or all of her reactions. I have personally chickened out where I’m supposed to confront somebody that my friend has advised me to do.
But again, always consider: would you really have done what you said you will do if you were in somebody else’s place?
The truth is: you’ll never have an answer because you have not been in that person’s place, and you will not undergo a circumstance they have experienced with their prior understanding of the world.
The entire lesson, or message that I intend to write with this post is really the fact that I wish people would learn to be a lot more understanding, and to have more empathy if not compassion. I do not expect anybody to be stirred by this long ramble, but I hope that by saying it:
I can and will reflect on how I treat others.
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Desire or Comfort? (Jimin and Taehyung Angst)
Hey guys,
I haven’t posted any original content for a while, but recently I have reconnected with a friend who is also an ARMY as a result of me sksksksk ^^. She managed to get me to write up my personal dreams in the form of an imagine/fanfic. While also encouraging me to post them, this is my first ever smut post(well first chapter is suggestive, second and third chapters though... oh hunny ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )
I apologise for being MIA for the last year or so, I’m currently in my second year of university... ya girl is getting old T_T. I think I started this blog back in 2015 when I was a year into being an ARMY, I was very active and then exams were around the corner and I just focused on reblogging content from blogs dedicated to BTS. Anyway enough rambling. I’ve written 3 chapters so far (we all know I prefer one-shots cos I'm lazy heh), but if the first one does well I’ll post the other two. Hope you enjoy xx
(A/N: Apologies my writing style might’ve changed a lil bit xx)
Warnings: Smut(in future chapters), Adultery... and Angst heheh
Word Count: 3984
Part 2
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Chapter 1
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It had been 2 and half years since he seized the opportunity to step past the friendship boundary I had created. Though I was in love with him, I was okay with watching him from afar. Our friendship started off with a rare opportunity I came across.
You see I was a freelancer, a teacher in the day and anything in the evening to make extra money on the side. Though most of my jobs were either being a runner on set, makeup artist or hair stylist or even a cleaner. My passion was photography. Non-profit projects were often funded by my side jobs, luckily enough one of the works I did, managed to be viewed by an assistant whom worked for a popular boy band. At the time, I was unaware of their popularity but I did appreciate their music.
Through word of mouth, I managed to work on set at a shoot with the said boy band, and later on, was gifted the opportunity to work full time with their team. I was intrigued by the shortest boy of the group, his skin was fair as snow, ebony hair and hooded eyes that could trap your soul if you were not careful. He was living beauty at its most divine. His looks were intimidating until he smiled, that domineering feeling vanished once she showcased his pearly whites with pride. His name was Park Jimin. He was the reason for the sins I proceeded to commit, though aware of the consequences.
It was innocent at first, he was one of the seven boys that continued to captivate me without ease. Though he was the most enchanting to me, there was another that did not fail to make me question my sanity. He was tall, shoulders as broad as a door frame, lashes that aided in losing yourself in his uneven brown eyes, fingers slender yet gentle, his rectangular smile would make your heart flutter to the point you forgot how to breathe. He too played a role in my confusion between my heart and my loins. Kim Taehyung. That devil bastard, ruined everything in one simple moment of weakness.
In the first year of working for the seven talented boys, I amassed deep connections to a select few, though I was on good terms with all the handsome men, a select few proceeded to play with my heartstrings as though I was a harp and they were beginner harpists whom they’d break in till they learned every inch of the instrument.
I was like putty in their hands, anything they asked for, I’d do, but their smiles were enough reward for my sore legs. After eight months, Jimin decided to seize the opportunity into asking me on a date.
His hair now blonde, cascaded effortlessly across his forehead, lips plump and rosy, he begun..
“Let me take you out to eat sometime, Y/N” he insisted.
His hand found the small of his neck while he shun his teeth through his thick lips.
‘*Sigh* .. I hate when he does that... Why does he have to do that?’ I thought as I felt my face flush with crimson
‘If I just play dumb and say sure as friends, then maybe, he’ll catch on’
It's not that I did not want to date him, but over time as I stood next to him or remotely near the piece of artwork, I was reminded of my insignificance and how much I didn’t deserve to be even breathing the same air as something so beautifully breath-taking.
“Yeah, let's go get some spicy rice cakes or something, it’s important for friends to hang out” I exclaimed brushing past him to the practice room where all the other boys were waiting.
Though I recall that moment being very awkward, it didn’t stop him.
He followed me into the room, making his presence known.
“Y/N, I didn’t mean as friends, I want to date you, for goodness sakes!” He spoke with haste.
The room did not fail to submerge me in ‘oooh’s’ and ‘ahhhh’s’ and ‘wooo’s’. I was drowning, not only in embarrassment, but fear.
He was something I wasn’t deserving nor worthy of, he was someone whom was my forever person, but things took a turn for the worst in our second year of being together.
Things became dull, overfamiliar and repetitive. We both were undeniably uncomfortable in an environment we labelled to be a place of comfort.
Overtime, it created an issue with his best friend Taehyung, as I often found myself indulging in his company to escape the blandness, I called my lover.
Jimin hated the way I smiled so often around Taehyung, the way he was able to change my body language just through entering the room. He was jealous, and I was ignorant to it. We both found comfort in other things, unfortunately for him, my comfort was found in the other members.
Jungkook, the youngest of the seven managed to find my portfolio of old works and had asked to accompany me on one of my projects, he was the only one who knew about my passion, he was respectful, humble and willing to learn. He had helped me on set that day, our bond became stronger through our mutual interest. After arriving at the dorm that evening, Jungkook continued to discuss possible concepts to explore in my work till he stumbled upon an idea.
“Considering, you’ve been doing minimal projects lately, I’m guessing you’re suffering from mild artist block?” He hummed leaning his head to one side while lifting the corner of his mouth.
“How did you know?” My eyes widened from the sudden intrigue.
“Mmm, you don’t seem yourself lately, I mean we’ve known you for 3 and a half years, yet only 3 months ago did I find your portfolio while you were cleaning out your apartment”
The young man decided to take it upon himself to read me like a book?
I wasn’t offended, more confused, I’d be lying if I said I was myself lately, but with the current tension with Jimin, I never had time to plan projects as I was always preoccupied with my growing concern for our relationship.
“Ahhh, photography is like my little secret you see, it's my guilty pleasure, I don’t really like sharing my work with others” I smiled faintly.
“I see, but your works are beautiful, they are something to be showcased, you know Taehyung is into photography too” He chimed.
Speak of the devil, the handsome figure walked into the open planned kitchen with nothing but slacks, a beanie and a long sleeve t-shirt hanging from his frame. Bastard. He was so effortlessly attractive and he knew it.
“What’s this I hear about photography?” He cheeks balled up as he poured himself a glass of water.
“Hyung, did you know Y/N is a photographer? She refuses to be credited for her works though.” He turned to the older male.
Taehyung stopped drinking, and in that moment, I felt the piercing eyes of the male search for my soul.
“No, I had no idea” He whispered, I could almost taste the betrayal he felt from the string of words, he let slip from his lips.
My head remained low as I searched the cupboards for something to eat.
“Why didn’t you tell me Y/N?, I thought we were close.” He spoke, looking for my eyes.
“I don’t know, it never came up, so I never got around to telling you.” I shrugged.
“But how come Kook knows?” He took a seat at the island, crossing his arms.
“Oh, that’s my fault, Hyung. I went to her apartment while she was cleaning and found her portfolio” He spoke.
The air was thick, I wasn’t exactly sure why, possibly because Taehyung felt left out of the loop, but even Jimin didn’t know much about my hobby, only that I take pictures on occasion.
For that moment, I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
“I have an idea, since you’re suffering from a block, how about we flip roles, you be the subject and I am the photographer” Jungkook jumped up from his stool, excited from the prospect.
“How about I pick a place personal to me and then the concept I come up with, you have to recreate as the photographer and me as the subject?” He added.
“Umm, I don’t know Kook, I’ve never been the subject before, I’m much more comfortable behind the camera, I mean its a good idea bu-“
“I’m in” Taehyung cut.
“Huh?” I questioned.
“I’ve always wanted to shoot you Y/N, I’ve told you time and time again, that you should model or something, but you never listen to me, this would be a great opportunity, to switch roles and stimulate your creativity!” He answered while Kook nodded his head in agreement.
“I don’t wan-“
“I want to join in too” A voice spoke from behind the nearest wall.
“I mean she is my girlfriend after all, plus I’d get to spend some quality time with her” Jimin smiled.
“I didn’t sign up for this, I don’t want to” I hissed.
“I mean you owe us an explanation about this deep-rooted hobby so this is a nice way out of it and its beneficial to all of us” Taehyung demanded, eyes dark as he stood from the island.
“We’ll let you know what we plan to do, just keep the next two weeks free for us” Taehyung spoke once more, turning his back to me while lifting his hand as he left the kitchen.
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The time had come where I’d be the subject of the boys eyes, though I didn’t want to, the more I thought about it the more I convinced myself that this was an opportunity for new inspiration. With most things Taehyung requested to do things first, in this instance it wasn’t an exception either.
He had planned to take me to Daegu, his home city and place of origin and birth, he had always been proud of his dialect more than others. Yet, something seemed off with him, he had requested to have me for 5 of the 14 days I was told to keep free.
Why would he need 5 days for a simple photoshoot?
As we began walking through the local market, he began
“To put it simply Y/N, the boys and I decided we would have to do 3 concepts with you each, I got the most amount of days because we will be going to Japan for two of them, the other three we shall be in Daegu” he sung while spinning on his heel with hands stretched out.
“I didn’t agree to go to Japan for this stupid project! I’m going home!” This was a bad idea, I didn’t want to be a pain but my gut was telling me being alone with Tae was dangerous enough in itself, but being abroad with him.. I don’t know whether I’d be able to control my hormones around him, the sexual tension was high enough in itself. The prospect of something so romantic could jeopardise my relationship with Jimin.
He was quick yet firm to grab my wrist while pulling it up to a 90-degree angle parallel to my face.
Stopping me before I could find my way back to the train station.
“Hey, I already booked our tickets with the help of Jimin, it’s too late to go back now”
What... why would Jimin give him my passport and other details so easily if he detests our closeness?
Was he testing me? Or did he genuinely trust me?
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The first shoot with Taehyung was awkward, seeing him crouched in different positions to find the angle he wanted was intimidating, I hated myself for how I admired his passion, the white shirt he wore showcased his collarbones and abnormally muscular neck. All I could think about was how his skin felt while he pranced around his chosen studio, showing me his body in all angles.
Taehyung appreciated the simpler things in his photography, he had always had an eye for vintage cameras. He’d always exclaim how he like capturing moments and snippets in time loops when it came to scenic pictures. However, with subjects he found it difficult to explore ideas as he appreciated candid shots. The first shoot took place in a modern yet minimalistic studio. Choosing soft fabrics such as satin and cotton, against a white background, mostly using the natural sunlight to capture his shots.
“Y/N, this shoot is about capturing you in your most innocent state, I want you to be vulnerable but willing” He hummed.
“Tae, what do you mean willing?” I questioned.
“I mean, as in willing to learn, I want you to be vulnerable but open-minded to the prospect of exploring a relationship” He demanded.
Yeah, Taehyung was never good at conveying what he wanted from others.
“Okay, let me give you context, you have just come out of a difficult relationship, you meet this guy, he is genuine and he makes you excited, but you are reluctant” He explained.
“Okay, I’m following...” I replied.
“Right, now I want you to be open-minded to the prospect of exploring a relationship with this new guy” He smiled.
At the time, I should’ve realised where he was going with this concept, however, I was too caught up in the moment of feeling oddly vulnerable in front of the camera. I didn’t like it, so I tried to convey what was asked of me so I could return to my comfort zone. Taehyung had made it a point to keep my face natural and the set minimal.
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“Tae, what’s the general theme of your shoots?” I asked while packing up his equipment.
“Hmmm, I want to achieve three images of you in your rawest form” he hummed while folding the sheets.
“Any particular reason why?”
“I think that’s when you are the most beautiful” He showcased his boxy smile, making my heart flutter for a moment.
I felt guilty as I paused to watch the tall figure move around the studio so gracefully, I wanted to embrace him yet kick him at the same time. He knew I was with his best friend, yet he proceeded to taunt me like this?
“Ha ha, so cringey, anyway I’m going to give Jimin a call” I spoke sarcastically, quickly removing myself from the tension he caused.
Rapidly searching for Jimin in my contacts, I wanted to hear his voice, I needed to hear it, to keep me grounded! I needed to be reminded of the difference between love and lust.
“Jagiya, I miss you” I spoke. [Jagiya=Honey, sweetie, love]
“How’s Tae?” Chim asked.
Odd. Instead of responding to me, he’s concerned about Taehyung.
“He’s well I guess, you could call him if you’d like” I hissed.
“I will, I’ll see you soon”
“Yah! If you dare hang up on me Park Jimin, you’ll have another thing coming” I shouted.
“Like what?” He questioned snidely.
I hung up, his sass was too much for me right now, if anything that call pushed me even further away from him.
“Everything alright?” Taehyung was quick to attend my bruised ego.
I debated making a snide remark about his best friend but the prospect of showing Tae the cracks in what was left of my relationship would hurt what was left of my pride.
“Yeah, I’m going to back to then bnb to have a nap, I’m quite tired after today” I whispered.
“What? No! its only 2pm Y/N, you promised you’d let me show you my home city!” He pleaded.
“Yah, Taehyung-ah.. I’m not in the mood, with you being all happy around me will just make me feel guilty!”
“You argued with Jimin didn’t you.” That boy could see right through me. I didn’t realise how transparent I truly was.
“I did not.”
“You did, you’re so obvious” He sighed.
“And wha-“
In moments, I felt the boy’s strong arms wrap around my torso, pulling me into his embrace. He hot breath dispersed across my scalp. Why? Just why did he have to touch me? He was contributing to the cracks in my relationship. I felt responsible for putting my guard down.
He was the puppeteer to my heartstrings, and I was the idiot allowing myself to be played.
“It’s okay, you can cry. I’m here, I’m always here.” He spoke, placing his chin on the crown of my scalp.
My ears were pressed against his broad chest, his heart was steady and calm.
“Taehyung. I don’t mean to be rude, but can you let go of me” I said brazenly.
“uh?”
I pushed myself away from the figure. I already felt bad for being close friends to the boy, but the tension he was causing within every dynamic I shared with the boys and myself was becoming unhealthy.
-
The second shoot with Taehyung took place in a studio filled with heaps of flowers.
“This is the second stage of your new relationship, you’re blossoming, figuratively and literally” he skipped searching for flowers to encase my body in.
“Imagine that this is a new chapter of your life, better yet a new volume, you’re a new person and this guy brings the best out of you”
At this point, I should’ve seen what was coming, but I was still offended by Jimin’s disregard for my being and feelings, he was purposely being spiteful because he was bitter.
“Ah, one second, Jimin’s calling me” He laughed.
Wow. They are both bastards. I’d half expect Taehyung would not pick up, but I’d also hope that Jimin would contact me back first.
“Jimin told me to tell you that you should unblock him”
Oh, I forgot... I am quite irrational when I’m irritated.
“He also said that he is sorry, and that he misses you”
Suspicious, why would Jimin provide any insight into our relationship when he detests the fact that I, too am close to his beloved Taehyung.
“Ok” Is what I chose to reply with, possibly because I wanted to be an asshole, but also because I refused to show any ounce of emotion to all parties concerned.
-
Before I knew it, I was on a plane to Japan. Sitting next to someone whom was beautiful even when they were drooling. Taehyung had always been irritating due to the sole fact that, that boy could be dressed in a bin bag and he’d still look like a model.
“If you’re going to stare at me like that while I sleep, I’m assuming you’re giving me permission to do the same?” He spoke with his eyes still closed.
That cocky bastard, he had eyes at the side of his head now too?
“Oh no, I was just admiring the string of drool that’s hanging from your chin” I hissed, turning my head to face the seat in front of me.
Hastily, the boy wiped his string of saliva with the back of his hand. Classy.
-
I refused to speak to Jimin till I had landed back in SK. Taehyung and I were booked to be in Japan for 2 and a half days after all, might as well make the most of it, right?
Wrong. That’s where I committed the sinniest sin amongst sins. [not an actual word, but in this instance... is a word]
Japan was beautiful, Taehyung seemed to have perfectly timed such a trip, or it was due to his sheer luck. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was based on luck, due to his undeniably beautiful features and personality to pair.
Sakura. The season of cherry blossoms gracing the country. Taehyung had booked a hotel in Kyoto, his demeanour changed the moment we checked in at the hotel. Something sinister yet determined, became evident in his actions.
-
This hotel had a bath that emulated that of the hot springs famous around Japan. He had me dressed in nothing but a large white shirt. I felt even more vulnerable than I did in the first shoot. I’d hope I wouldn’t have to be in the bath. If I had known what would’ve happened after the shoot, I would’ve protested.
“Y/N, I know this seems outrageous, but I promise you that this is only in sight of our project, I want you to submerge yourself in the water” [water is wet]
“I want you to be completely wet, this is the last stage of your relationship blossoming, you don’t have to feign innocence, you can allow your body to be possessed by lust in its rawest from”
“I’m not going to judge you nor scrutinise you, but I want you to look at the camera as though you’re seeing Jimin naked for the first time” He sang to me.
He was playing a dangerous game, I was only wearing that t-shirt and a pair of knickers, didn’t he know that the material would cling to every orifice of my body. What was he playing at exactly?
“Umm, I don’t feel comfortable with doing that, Tae” I spoke stepping into the mist filled tub.
“Just do it Y/N” He demanded.
“Show me your sensual side, show me what else there is to you” He pleaded.
Was he talking to be directly or figuratively? Or both?
“Taehyu-“
“Seriously, we flew all the way here for you to do this?”
I found myself almost completely submerged under, leaving but my nose to forehead above water.
“You’ve done this for me twice already! I just want to see the real you, okay?” He reassured the knots in my stomach, that this was for art. If I should part-take in such a project, I should at least commit completely.
The transparent liquid aided in adjusting my nerves, it was warm and comforting, I just needed to use my imagination to give the shots that was required of me.
I began posing in ways that were foreign to me, mostly using my eyes to envelope Tae into a façade that appeared real, yet was entirely fake.
I wanted to take him, he was my muse in that moment. I was not making love to the camera, I was making lust to him. He was cruel to put me in such a compromising predicament, but to his surprise, I did not falter at the task at hand.
-
Moments passed and we were finished with his project.
“Wow, that was beautiful” He said in awe as he looked back at some of his prized shots while I continued to sway in the liquid.
He placed his camera in a dry place, reaching for the nearest towel.
Reaching for my hand, he aided in helping me out of the safe haven. I realised later that my skin was visible through the saturated material. Nipples apparent and erect. His eyes darkened before me as he wrapped the cotton cloth around my frame. Pulling me closer, he looked down on me with eyes that had a motive.
“Forgive me for what I’m about to do”
Before I could speak, I felt pressure against my lips. Soft, subtle even pressure, against my lips. He was cruel. I found myself melting into his mouth, wanting more than just a chaste kiss. His firm hands snaked around my hips, allowing the cloth to fall at our feet. Gripping tightly, I yelped, earning him access to explore my moist cavern. Knots found their way into my abdomen. I was excited as a thick fog claimed my vision.
In that moment, I did not give Jimin a second thought. It had been so long since I’d be touched like this, felt wanted like this. Taehyung respected my space, time and individualism. He was enticing, comforting and appreciative. God, he was a bastard for that.
#bts#bts reaction#bts scenarios#bts taehyung#bts angst#BTS jimin#BTS jungkook#bts maknae line#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts photography#bangtan#bangtan boys#bangtan scenarios#bangtan sonyeondan#bangtan scouts#bangtan scenario#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts imagines#bts imagination#BTS jin#bts jhope#bts jealous#bts jungguk#bts hoseok#bts hope#bts hobi#bts yoongi#BTS suga
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The Ultimate BATB tag
Rules:
- Always include the rules.
- Answer the questions as truthfully as you can.
- Tag at least 3 people at the end of the tag.
- You don’t have to be tagged to paticipate, you can do the tag even without being tagged.
- Tag the post “#BATB Tag” so we can keep up with the tags.
- That’s literally all there is to it! Have fun!
You can use this as reference:
https://gastt.tumblr.com/post/160009844702/the-ultimate-batb-tag
When did you start your blog, and why? I started right before I saw the movie because I knew I’d be obsessed and wanted an area away from my main multi-fandom blog where I could freely fangirl and shitpost and whatnot. Also, my “likes” on Tumblr were filled with four years worth of BATB meta, fan art and fanfics, and I wanted to clean my likes out so they would actually be a specific place for bookmarking. I had 14,00 likes before I made the blog, and now that I’ve almost completely cleaned it out I have about 900. Still not great, but it’s getting there.
Where did you get the idea for your url? Obviously the growl at the end. I decided I wanted daysinthesuns for my main blog, and I'd had danstevensgrowl saved for a little while. For daysinthesuns, I saved it when the titles for the new songs were announced, I think that was in late summer.
Where did you get the idea for your icon? I didn’t make my icon, I just got it from an icons post by someone on Tumblr. I like the color pink and I love 1991 Belle, so I went with it.
What was your first choice of url? dayinsthesuns was the first one I had for this blog, then I switched to danstevensgrowl. If you mean what my ultimate choice would be, I’d really like to have daysinthesun or princeadam. On my main blog, my first URL was weareteenageheartsforeveryoung and it stayed like that for 3 years or so.
What was your first icon, or the oldest you can remember? And if you can, post it. This is the one I’ve always had, but on my main blog I had a picture of Miley Cyrus from the movie LOL once, a picture of Elvis once, and my freshman year of high school I had my favorite fan art of Adam hugging Belle from behind with his chin on her shoulder while she’s reading.
Would you die for the person on your icon? I mean, I consider myself to be Belle, so that’s a bit weird. But if my icon was Adam, yes, in a heartbeat.
Which url of your mutuals are you most jealous of? Hmm. I don’t know, I honestly like my URL. However, if we’re talking about @gastt‘s mutuals…you know who.
Which icon of your mutuals are you most jealous of? I love @ohstaythisway‘s icon, I would use it if she wasn’t already.
Do you have any sideblogs? And if you do, what are they about? And if you don’t, what would your sideblog be about? I have a ton that I made while cleaning out my likes to get meta and fanfic out of there, I have an Anakin Skywalker one and a Pride and Prejudice one. I also run the Tally Hoes Archive, and I have a professional blog to showcase my articles and other things I’ve written.
Are you satisfied with your blog currently? If not, what would you change? I guess, I mean, it’s a trash blog so I don’t aim for the content to be high quality.
If you weren’t in the BATB fandom, what would you post about? Star Wars, Doctor Who, basically everything I post about on my main blog.
What fandom(s) did you belong to before BATB? BATB was actually my first fandom, but after that, Divergent, Once Upon a Time, Doctor Who and finally Star Wars.
Which blogs do you regularly check up on? @je-suis-em-jee and @theteaisaddictive because they’re my favorite fic writers.
What would you say is your most common tag? “Prince Adam” because I reblog gifs of him a lot.
How many people are you following, and how many people follow you? I think I follow around 300, my main blog has 1,700 followers and this blog has a little over 200.
Who are your current top three fans on Tumblr (for this month)? For this blog, it’s @trippsykes, @lee-lee-ed and @snipandsnail. Thank you guys :)
What is your top post (for this month)? It actually won’t show for some weird reason, but I’m guessing it’s my Ultimate Fic Rec post.
Which post are you most proud of? Probably my meta about the enchanted object’s part in The Mob Song.
Which post are you most embarassed by? The Meme Queen Adam fic and every time I’ve self-promoted (which is a lot of times.)
Weirdest message someone ever sent you? When I posted my selfie for the Introduce Your Self(ie) challenge, I immediately got a DM from some girl with a weird URL saying I was hot. I assumed it was a porn blog so I marked it as spam and blocked them, but then I looked at their blog and it was kind of normal? So I hope that wasn’t one of you guys lol.
Weirdest message you ever sent someone? God I don’t even want to know
Have you ever received anon hate? And if so, for what? When I was 13 I got a ton but I honestly deserved it. I had this ongoing joke where I acted like I was really self-absorbed and snobby ironically, because I actually hated myself and had been struggling with an eating disorder. But either way, I took it too far and I was really obnoxious and people called me out on it, some less gracefully than others.
Do you have any blogs blocked, and if so, which? I’m sure I have a lot blocked for spam and stuff.
Have you ever thought about quitting Tumblr? If so, why? Not really, because I’m kind of terrified of ever deleting anything. I hate the idea of erasing any part of my life, even if it’s a part I’m embarrassed by or don’t want to think about.
What device do you use Tumblr the most? (e.g. Laptop, Tablet, Phone, etc.) Probably my iPhone, since I’m always in class and stuff.
What was the last thing you searched on Google? Meme Queen Adam bc I was too lazy to go on my profile on Archive of our Own and click on my fic, I just wanted to get the link the quick way lol.
What time is it currently as you make this post? 11:45, I really should go to sleep after this.
What are you wearing currently? Star Wars pajama pants and a black camisole.
If you had to legally change your name (in real life) permanently, what would it be and why? Belle, because I’m a dork.
What kind of characters and/or pairings do you tend to turn to? Is there a recurring theme to it? I feel like in terms of male characters I always love the brooding, angsty, damaged guys with tragic backstories, like Prince Adam or Anakin Skywalker. For female characters, I always like strong, witty, outspoken women, like Belle and Elizabeth Bennet.
Tell us a favorite of yours and why? (Literally any favorite, something that touches you and you’re passionate about.) I guess Beauty and the Beast in general, honestly. There’s so much to love about it, but it really changed my life when I fell in love with it all over again the summer before my freshman year of high school. I was doing a Disney movie marathon alone, because I really didn’t have any friends at the time, and I actually skipped Beauty and the Beast because I figured I remembered it well enough from my childhood that I didn’t need to waste time re-watching it. However, I still had some time to kill before school started, so I watched it again, and not only was I struck by the Beast’s character and how deeply and unconditionally he loved Belle, the message of Beauty and the Beast really got to me. After I recovered from my eating disorder and dealt with (deserved) backlash on Tumblr for my crappy sense of humor and coping skills, I’d become really tough and rigid and pessimistic as a default. Suffering from such an awful illness really kind of stripped me of the usual kindness and warmth I held. Belle kind of helped me get it back, helped me find myself again, and the movie in general helped me to believe that maybe it was okay that I was fat or my voice is weird or that I’m short because I’m eloquent and I’m kind and true beauty is found within. Maybe my words and my heart is enough. I still struggle with believing that today, but I would’ve given up on believing it and given up on myself a long time ago if it wasn’t for Beauty and the Beast. When I started at a new high school after becoming obsessed with Beauty and the Beast, I was both a new person and my old self at once, and the optimism and kindness and open-mindedness I’d regained helped me to finally let people in a bit, and I made a ton of friends. My love for the musical also inspired me to join theatre, which I never would’ve given a thought if I hadn’t loved the musical.
Tag 3 or more blogs to do this tag, and also add what you associate them with and tell them what you truly think about them. I can’t tag @gastt because they already did it and literally made the tag, but gatt, you are such a loyal and supportive person. I don’t even know your name or your face or anything like that, but I don’t have to to know that you an amazing person and all us Tally Hoes are so lucky to know you. I tag @mmedegarderobe, my sin sister and fellow Mass Communications major, my other fellow mass communications major @thestanfoubrew, the mother of the Heelys meme @uncledisney, and my two favorite fic writers - one I’ve loved since I first fell in love with BATB, the other more recently, @theteaisaddictive and @je-suis-em-jee. You both are so talented and wonderful and portray the characters that are so close to my heart perfectly.
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get to know me meme!
..... a mutual did this and said people feeling up for it should do it so....
i’m not tagging anyone but feel free to do these
1. What is your full name? Rene
2. What is your nickname? Rellu, Rensku
3. What is your zodiac sign? Virgo
4. What is your favorite book series? uhhh ASOIAF maybe
5. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? i like the idea of residual energy... and ofc there’s other lifeforms floating in the endless space
6. Who is your favorite author? ME MYSELF i’m honestly not sure, there’s no-one whose all works like to the same degree
7. What is your favorite radio station? ... rock/heavy metal station
8. What is your favorite flavor of anything? mmm choco? or like this salsa/cheese combo. also cola.
9. What word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? excellent, gorgeous, fucking perfect
10. What is your current favorite song? this one
11. What is your favorite word? i don’t... have one. maybe しまう?
12. What was the last song you listened to? this one
13. What TV show would you recommend for everybody to watch? in the flesh, mushishi
14. What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? i don’t like movies that much? ... one piece movies
15. Do you play video games? yes occasionally
16. What is your biggest fear? death, heights
17. What is your best quality, in your opinion? insight/confidence combo?
18. What is your worst quality, in your opinion? arrogance... small-mindedness, as in not being able to throw myself as deep into stuff as i feel like i should....
19. Do you like cats or dogs better? cats
20. What is your favorite season? winter or late fall
21. Are you in a relationship? mmmm when aren’t you in relationships?? but yea i’m in several relationships as this question seems to be angling for...
22. What is something you miss from your childhood? structure and relatively low pressure
23. Who is your best friend? poronen and also revy my dearie. there’s a couple more conventional/old past besties too that i still hold close to my heart.
24. What is your eye color? dark-ish gray-green-blue
25. What is your hair color? dirty blonde, dyed red
26. Who is someone you love? my friends my family my datemates... myself...
27. Who is someone you trust? i trust p much everyone until proven wrong
28. Who is someone you think about often? bisexualwinry and poronen again lmao, also... uhhh whichever characters i’m obsessed most recently
29. Are you currently excited about/for something? next installations of friends’ fics, my own fic chapter lmao, a homewarming party of an ex i’m friends with...
30. What is your biggest obsession? currently a couple vocaloid producers and mp100. long term.... ffvii and vampires.
31. What was your favorite TV show as a child? pokemon and moomins
32. Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? fuck your idea of there being an opposite!! i don’t have an opposite!! i can tell my dearest friends anything, regardless of gender or lack of it!!!!
33. Are you superstitious? not really, tho i like some of the practices
34. Do you have any unusual phobias? no
35. Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? front~
36. What is your favorite hobby? writing, drawing, weightlifting
37. What was the last book you read? i’m not sure but i’m going to say villon’s testament
38. What was the last movie you watched? uhhhh maybe ghost in the shell? the first one.
39. What musical instruments do you play, if any? tiny bit of guitar
40. What is your favorite animal? cats
41. What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? i can’t really say, i like following my friends (you know who you are i’ve msg you all basically)
42. What superpower do you wish you had? i always answer these the same way: absolute shapeshifting.
43. When and where do you feel most at peace? in my own room around midnight OR with good friends anywhere
44. What makes you smile? anything exciting, really
45. What sports do you play, if any? uhhhh i did medieval swordfighting for a while but nowadays i dream of getting back to lifting and running
46. What is your favorite drink? water, coke, all coffee drinks, wine
47. When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? probs within a week, we communicate between flatmates with these lil post-it notes
48. Are you afraid of heights? yes holy shit so bad
49. What is your biggest pet peeve? when people are allergic to fun/are contrarians
50. Have you ever been to a concert? yuppp a couple times
51. Are you vegan/vegetarian? yes
52. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? an author, but before that a paleontologist, and before that a circus princess
53. What fictional world would you like to live in? eugh idk almost none of them??? somewhere where it’s p idyllic
54. What is something you worry about? planet dying, economy crashing, getting back to my own two feet after this horrible mental crash i’ve been going through all spring...
55. Are you scared of the dark? a lil bit, puts me on edge
56. Do you like to sing? hell yea!!
57. Have you ever skipped school? so many times
58. What is your favorite place on the planet? my parent’s house, this one street in kyoto...
59. Where would you like to live? honestly? in the center of the city i’m living in now, or the capital... ... or kyoto or tokyo...
60. Do you have any pets? no, flatmate has cats tho
61. Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? night owl but a fairly balanced one
62. Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? either is good
63. Do you know how to drive? yes
64. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? headphones!! but i use buds more, more practical.
65. Have you ever had braces? yes.
66. What is your favorite genre of music? metal. like the sorta frilly vampiric neoclassical metal tons of jrock bands do?? but i like a huge variety of genres.
67. Who is your hero? gotta be my own hero
68. Do you read comic books? rarely, if we don’t count manga
69. What makes you the most angry? petty pointless shit
70. Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? on my phone
71. What is your favorite subject in school? languages/literature
72. Do you have any siblings? four of them, two big sisters and two lil brothers
73. What was the last thing you bought? .... some food? uhhh boxers?
74. How tall are you? 168 cm ish
75. Can you cook? yes
76. What are three things that you love? storytelling, good food, good laughs
77. What are three things that you hate? generic bad injustice shit in the world, people who make fun of others for things they like, lmao my current writer’s block towards my main fic ahahaha ;;;
78. Do you have more female friends or more male friends? seriously fuck these questions? most of my friends are nb
79. What is your sexual orientation? queer and complicated
80. Where do you currently live? Turku
81. Who was the last person you texted? a friend
82. When was the last time you cried? i have no clue, i don’t cry often
83. Who is your favorite YouTuber? everyone who subs vocaloid stuff
84. Do you like to take selfies? yessss
85. What is your favorite app? just my JED fhgadhadh
86. What is your relationship with your parent(s) like? a bit distant (due to physical distance) but warm and friendly and supportive
87. What is your favorite foreign accent? .... this seems strange but uh. no specific preference? throaty languages, french and arabic and russian come to mind...
88. What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? TOKYO ive been to japan twice and lived there for a while but never managed to visit tokyo
89. What is your favorite number? 11
90. Can you juggle? a lil bit?
91. Are you religious? anti-religion more like ahaha
92. Do you find outer space of the deep ocean to be more interesting? both, both is good
93. Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? not really but then again i do tend to take things as challenges...
94. Are you allergic to anything? this one is a weird one. there’s a chemical that does cause some sorta reaction? it’s in some cardboard boxes and used in treating hemp rope.....
95. Can you curl your tongue? yes
96. Can you wiggle your ears? yes
97. How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? anytime i can’t wiggle out of it like “oh true yes that’s what i meant i was almost correct the first time” lmao
98. Do you prefer the forest or the beach? ... forest
99. What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? it’s okay to half-ass things, it’s better than not doing anything
100. Are you a good liar? i think so
101. What is your Hogwarts House? gryffindor not slytherin shut upppp
102. Do you talk to yourself? sometimes
103. Are you an introvert or an extrovert? ambivert? sorta more extrovert
104. Do you keep a journal/diary? nahh not really
105. Do you believe in second chances? yes
106. If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? if there was no-one nearby who could have obviously dropped it... or who could see... i would pocket any cash and take the wallet itself to lost and found.
107. Do you believe that people are capable of change? yea.
108. Are you ticklish? no
109. Have you ever been on a plane? yes, several times
110. Do you have any piercings? fourteen and planning to get more
111. What fictional character do you wish was real? not really anyone...
112. Do you have any tattoos? yup a big fat nb koi on my left calf
113. What is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? going ahead with transitioning
114. Do you believe in karma? no
115. Do you wear glasses or contacts? glasses! really strong ones too lmao
116. Do you want children? no. wouldn’t mind co-parenting someone else’s kids if that sorta person wandered in my life tho.
117. Who is the smartest person you know? well myself of course - no but really ahh vrow has me beat in my category of intelligence.
118. What is your most embarrassing memory? i sorta picked on a kid for no reason in elementary school. it was a singular incident and i apologized a year later.
119. Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? yessss currently doing one
120. What color are most of you clothes? black
121. Do you like adventures? yea to a degree?
122. Have you ever been on TV? nope
123. How old are you? 24
124. What is your favorite quote? hhhh i don’t have all-time faves but currently just. “Just stay by my side, it doesn’t matter even if it’s a lie.”
125. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? just give me all the food
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Why do you feel like nobody likes you? You seem really nice.
Thanks nonnie, that means a lot.
This is probably going to get very long, and I know nobody asked for it, but I feel like maybe having an explanation as to why I’m insecure might help? Or not, there’s the possibility that nobody will care, but just in case, I’ll explain.
I’ve been RPing on this site since 2013, and in that time I’ve had a lot of experiences. Most good, but there are a few bad experiences (3 major ones specifically which i will be talking about) that have ultimately contributed to the anxious mess I am today, and why I don’t approach people even though there are a fair few people I really would like to interact with.
The short version, for those that don’t wanna read through heaps of text, is this:
-I was strung along and eventually ignored by somebody I looked up to who couldn’t just tell me they didn’t want to interact.
-I was blocked by somebody I considered a friend for reasons I still do not know.
-I was accused of copying somebody else’s OC which resulted in me losing a ‘friend’ and ultimately made me quit writing for almost a year.
If you want more detailed explanations of what happened in each experience, you can find them under the cut. Warning: It’s very long. Feel free to ask for clarification if things seem unclear. There’s also a bolded part at the end which you can read that kind of… ties things together, I guess?
The first experience is the reason for my ‘Don’t ignore me’ rule. Back when i was still fresh to this site and didn’t know how things worked, I came across this amazing marvel OC, and I fell in love with the writing. They were my first ‘tumblr senpai’, as the term used to be. My mind was blown when they actually followed me back, and I was very excited to write with them. So I did the logical thing and sent a message. They responded positively; I was over the moon. We had one or two very brief interactions, and I guess those were enough for that person to decide they didn’t want to interact with me. Now, if they had just come out and said that, things would’ve been fine. Yes, it would have hurt, but I would ultimately have understood and moved on. Instead, they strung me along.
Any direct requests to interact were responded to with excuses about them not having the time for new threads, which does happen, so I understood, but they ultimately promised me that we would interact when they had the time. But after a while, I noticed the memes I sent in would go ignored, unless they were just headcanon stuff, and despite saying they were busy, they still had time to interact with new people. I still gave them the benefit of the doubt and guessed maybe tumblr was eating asks, or they just didn’t know how to respond or initiate a thread with me. It only clocked with me that they were avoiding attempts at interaction and ignoring me when I responded to a short open starter they posted, and everyone who replied to it got an answer except for me. This was the point I realised they didn’t want to interact with me but just didn’t want to say anything, possibly as some odd way to avoid hurting my feelings. Now you might be wondering if this was me pestering somebody I followed, but I just want to say that me and this person were mutuals right up until I realised what they were doing and made a PSA saying if you didn’t want to interact with me, then you should just tell me instead of being rude and ignoring me. After that, we stopped being followers and I pretty much did everything in my power to make sure I didn’t have to see them on my dash ever again because I was hurt.
Their intentions may have been somewhat innocent in that they didn’t want to hurt my feelings by rejecting me, but ultimately they hurt me far worse than a simple ‘I’m sorry but I don’t feel like interaction is going to work between us’ ever would’ve. In fact I recently discovered this experience still has an effect on me, because that same person crossed my dash just a couple of months ago and It felt like I had been punched in the gut and I had to take a moment to just breathe. So yeah. This experience enforced the part of my anxiety that now tells me that just because we are mutuals does not mean they want to interact (even though selective following is now a thing).
The second experience happened not long after the first. I had followed this blog, and we had a bunch of threads going together. 4, maybe 5, and we were in each other’s inboxes a lot with memes or just general shenanigans. One day we were talking, can’t remember what about (followers? I think? something to do with followers idk) and they suddenly disappeared off my dash. I though tumblr had just freaked out, but after realising they were no longer following me, it dawned that I was blocked. Now, I was still very much an ‘assume the best in people’ kind of person, so I messaged them on a different blog like ‘Hey, i think you may have accidentally blocked me?’. No response. I tried again, and nothing. I was… very confused, and was starting to feel a sense of dread. So i messaged a mutual friend/follower and asked them if they could find out what was going on. She also got nothing out of them, this person was essentially ignoring all mentions of me. Now what I did next might not have been smart, but I was very upset. I messaged them once more on another blog, asking them to please just tell me what I had done wrong. Maybe I should have just moved on and gotten on with shit, but I had thought we were friends and I wanted answers. I never got them. This experience is the reason why I constantly fret over whether or not people actually like me, and why I’m always afraid that one day everyone is just going to turn around and start hating me.
The third experience was the most recent, and by far the worst. So In 2015 I got a message from a ‘friend’ of mine. I had been on hiatus for a while because I had been feeling insecure and had decided to fall back on some older methods of RP and take a break from the tumblr RP community. I had just gotten back, when they messaged me stating that a person they had started roleplaying with while I was away with had noticed some similarities between her OC and mine. Now, I had no idea who this person was prior to this. So I was very confused, and I said as much. My ‘friend’ went on to say that this person thought I had stolen her OC and that they also agreed, and also that the time I made my blog had been about the same time this person had decided to go on a long hiatus. Now the similarities were this; We both had the same FC, both our characters had abuse in their background, they were both UK born, and they both had interests in cooking careers. I thought this was fairly weak evidence, and said as much. They then countered that there was one more thing I had ‘stolen’ from this person and they sent me an image. And I was shocked.
You see, when I had still been in college, one of my assignments had been to make a floorplan of a vet surgery. Now because I suck at drawing, I found a pretty nifty site called floorplanner.com. And while working on my assignment, my brain piped up and said ‘hey, we could use this site to make a floorplan of our OC’s apartment!’. And I thought that was a great idea, so I did it. Now, the image my ‘friend’ sent to me was none other than that very floorplan I had made. The person accusing me of plagiarism was claiming it was theirs. I said no, I definitely made the floorplan, and I was responded to with information about the exact date the person had saved the image to their computer. Not only did I send a screenshot of my account on the site and the floorplan itself open in the floorplan creator, I also countered with an image showing that the date I posted the floorplan to my blog preceded the date the person saved the image to their computer, but I was brushed off by being told ‘dates can be edited’ (yeah, cuz I’m totally smart and skilled enough to do that??).
Anyways, by this point, I was extremely upset. I talked about it on my blog, but I did not mention names or URLs. I was then told my accuser was apparently getting anon hate (though they never posted any) and their friends kept coming into my inbox to tell me to ‘call off my followers’. One even made a public post and tagged me in it. I was beginning to get really stressed out, so I messaged my accuser and asked if we could just talk about this privately. I got no response, but they did make a lovely public post about how I was being emotionally manipulative and that they had 0 doubt I had copied them and about how they were so hurt by this whole thing.
I asked my ‘friend’ why they didn’t believe me even though i had at the very least proven the floorplan was mine, and their response was that ‘of course they were going to believe the person who talked to them every day over me, who didn’t talk to them very much’. Looking back, I realise this ‘friend’ was not good for me at all. My reasons for not talking to them came down to a few things. First, I did not feel safe talking to them about my depression. The one time i did, i got some rather intensive comments. And you remember the break from tumblr I mentioned earlier in this story? I had spoken to them privately about it and explained my reasons had been I wasn’t feeling the most welcome, and that I needed some time away. They decided to take this as a personal attack, and when I had updated them about what was happening with me on the other site, they kind of flipped out and accused me of shitting on something they loved (tumblr) because I was criticising some of the uglier parts of the RP community (cliques, elitism, anon hate, the stigma towards OC’s over canon characters etc.). After that, I didn’t feel like I could talk to them, so I kind of stopped.
After all this had happened, I tried to move on with things. But the fact is, it really affected me. My ‘friend’ was, and still is I believe, a very popular RP blog with a lot of weight. My accuser had a fair few friends too, and my name had been slandered about. I removed all links to the blog this happened on from my other blogs out of fear, but even then I felt scared. Every blog I wanted to follow would be checked first to see if they had any obvious connections to my ‘friend’ or my accuser. If they did, I would make note of them, their other blogs, and the main people they interacted with all to avoid the chance of somebody knowing me and deciding to bring the shitstorm back up again. Eventually, i was so scared that I just… couldn’t find my love of writing anymore. It was tainted by anxiety, and I finally made an announcement on all my blogs; I was quitting. I didn’t delete my blogs, but I made the message clear that it was no guarantee that I would ever come back.
I made that post in September 2015. It was only after reconnecting with a very old RP partner back when I was still new, that I finally was convinced to come back to tumblr in May 2016. My writing quality had fallen during my hiatus, because I barely wrote at all for the majority of those months. It still isn’t what it used to be, and the style varies wildly from day to day.
These experiences, along with some milder ones, have ultimately shaped me into the anxious mess that I am now. My anxiety constantly reminds me that friends can turn on you, and that sometimes people might just be being polite when they compliment me or seem willing to interact. I do try my best to ignore it, but there are times it overwhelms me. It’s nothing personal to the wonderful people who follow me, it’s just my own inner demons that like to torment me. I found my love of writing again, and I would like to be the confident person i once was. I just need.. patience, honesty and some people willing to put up with my awkwardness.
This is horribly long and I’m very sorry, but I hope maybe it cleared some stuff up about why I am how I am. I’m open to more questions, if anybody cares enough to ask lmao.
#Anonymous#ask#psa#I might reblog this later on too#just so.. idk people can see it if they wanna#long post
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Truer Truths
Recently my wife and I have been reading up on Narrative Therapy. In its most condensed form, narrative therapy states that though the events of our past are fixed, the interpretation of those events are not—that our internal narrative, the story we tell ourselves about our life, can be changed. As a former psychology major and as a writing teacher, this concept is very exciting.
And yet, the more I study, the more frustrated I get. I’m frustrated because in my own life, there are two people whom I love very much who don’t believe I love them. In their story, I am one of the bad guys. If I could rewrite the story, I might be a little more honest. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to tell them how I feel, so I’ll tell you instead and it will be our little secret.
The first story is about someone whom I considered to be an adopted brother. We had many adventures together and lots of laughs. When he came around, we always had to make sure to have extra food. I still remember the time he polished off my dad’s fresh watermelon all by himself. Because of him, I met and married the love of my life, but that’s where our story takes a turn.
Ages ago, before I had even met the woman who would later be my wife, my friend (we’ll call him Didi) was the one who told me about her. I had gone for a visit, but it had been a long trip. I was nearly dead on my feet, but we got to talking. As we chatted, I began to talk less and less, and eventually found myself saying, “Mmm,” to everything Didi was saying. (I didn’t realize it at the time, but “Mmm,” in his culture was the same as saying “Yes!”, as opposed to “I’m hearing that you’re talking.”)
I still cannot recall the details of that conversation as I was dozing toward the end of it, but I have a hazy recollection of some comment like, “If you guys get married, I can be the best man!” “Mmm.”
Fast forward a couple years, and I AM getting married, but my bride-to-be is dead set on a minimalist wedding. Immediate family only. I manage to cajole her into a guest list of 30, but then comes time to choose the bridal party. “What about Didi for best man?” “No way.”
We go back and forth on it, but she’s known Didi longer than I have and in her eyes, he is a little brother, not a best man. I tried to ease the blow by including him in the private meal with family after the ceremony, but I know it still stings. And of course I’m the one stuck holding the bag.
Fast forward two years, and Didi is coming for a visit. My wife has just had a baby, but she’s had complications with breast-feeding and undergone an operation resulting in a tube sticking out of her breast connected to a bottle filled with milk, blood and pus. I trek the two-hour commute to meet him and smile and take him out for his favorite snacks, but for my wife’s privacy, I downplay her condition by just saying that she’s not feeling well.
Fast forward six months, and Didi is coming for another visit. This time, my wife is in full-swing postpartum depression. Lack of sleep, medical complications, and a colicky baby have pushed her right up to the edge of sanity. Still, I make time to trek out to meet Didi, smile and pretend that everything is as good as it looks in the facebook pictures.
Fast forward two more years. My three-year-old son had just been diagnosed with leukemia. I am sleeping at the hospital, correcting finals, and running a summer camp. I see my wife for about twenty minutes a day in which she briefs me on our son’s condition and medications before going home to crash. I get a message from Didi saying he’s concerned and he’d like to come see us. I’m like, “Look, I don’t even have time to see my wife at this point. It’s not really the best time for a visit.”
Then it all comes up. I don’t appreciate our friendship. I don’t have any gratitude. I don’t know how to respect him. He’s glad this friendship is over. And then I get blocked.
See, the thing is, I do appreciate Didi’s friendship, and I am grateful for the fun and love he has brought into my life, and I still respect him. Just because I said no, doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for the offer. My “No” was not about Didi at all—it was about me. I knew I couldn’t handle anything else at that moment—not even somebody’s help. He may be glad our friendship is over, but I’m not. If I could go back, I think I would try to be more honest with what I was up against. I’m not as strong as I pretended to be. I wish I had respected his maturity enough to be vulnerable. I’m sorry.
The next story is about someone I’ve know for a lifetime. We’ll call her Meimei. I will try to avoid projecting my story into her motivations, but I will probably make a few slips as I am still processing my emotions on this one.
Meimei and I have always been on good terms. Growing up, we only saw each other once or twice a year, but we always got along. Our families were always pretty close. Over the years, Meimei and her family have been very supportive even when others weren’t. When I got married, Meimei accepted my wife into the family and made her feel welcome and safe. When my son got sick, Meimei’s family did massive amounts of research to make sure he got the best care. When a therapist suggested he might have some emotional difficulties, Meimei provided valuable professional advice and strategies that proved really helpful. Not to mention that Meimei always gives great gifts. So when Meimei asked to come for a visit, we said yes.
Now, for the most part, I stayed out of the planning process. I work two jobs and don’t do well with numbers so when my wife and Meimei were talking about dates, all I heard was, “Number? Number? Blahblahblah.” Looking at the calendar, I did comment that that was finals time, and I would be extremely busy. “I’m coming to help.” “Great!”
I don’t think it fully hit me until I was carting Meimei’s luggage into the house that we had agreed to host for three weeks. Our apartment is about the size of a large shoe box, and my Asian wife is the kind of person who had a breakdown the first (and only) time we went tent camping because, “There are no doors!” Well guess what, we had five people in our tiny apartment and only one working AC. This was not going to end well.
I’ve been living abroad since 2006 so there are a lot of things about American culture that I’ve forgotten. The first week was an intensive case of mutual culture shock culminating in my offering to book a hotel room on the ground floor of our building at our expense.
This was the last straw for Meimei, and she chose to handle her own lodging arrangements. When I suggested that she might want to bump up her return flight rather than paying for two weeks stay in one of the most expensive areas of our city, she heard, “We don’t want you here.” She didn’t change her flight, but we didn’t see much of her after that. When the time finally came for her to head home, I got a long letter detailing how horrible I had been. Blocked. Blocked. Blocked.
There are so many things about our situation that I wish I could say. I know Meimei deserved much better treatment than she got from us. She came with the best of intentions and got kicked to the curb. I know how much it sucks, and I’ve tried to apologize. But the truth is, we are barely keeping our heads above water. We really wanted to be good hosts, but we couldn’t. Whenever we push harder than we already are, we go down. Our sleep schedule, daily routines and eating habits are what keep us in balance. Disrupting them, even for fun stuff, has serious consequences. My wife and younger son were sick for a week. My son with leukemia was in the hospital for three. For us, time is the only resource. Whenever we give it, even just a little of it, it is love. And we did give it. My wife spent hours on booking travel tickets and dealing with flight cancellations. I put my work aside during busiest time of the year to find a lens cap and a Segway dealership. We didn’t do it out of obligation; we did it out of love. When we stopped, it wasn’t because we stopped loving; it was because we couldn’t keep the pace. We do love Meimei, and we really appreciate her willingness to cross the world to try to help us. If I could speak into her heart, this is what I would say:
It’s okay to make mistakes.
You don’t have to be perfect to be loved.
I have faults, and you have wounds;
but you are not your wounds—
and I am not my faults.
I love you.
Not the expert.
Not the victim.
You.
I love you.
I just wish she could hear me—the real me— instead of the horrible monster who has taken my place.
By the way, if you think you know who I’m talking about, I and you’re thinking, “Oh, I can solve this! I’ll just go talk to...” Please stop. I’m not sharing this to gain support or to prove who is right. If you know who I’m talking about, and you want to do something to help, here’s what you can do: Close your eyes. Imagine the person. Say to their image, “You are loved.” Do this whenever you get the urge to try to fix my problem, and if enough of us begin to see Didi and Meimei in this way, maybe they will begin to see it too.
It takes great courage to believe you are loved even when you don’t understand. When it comes to our life’s narrative, we can argue facts till Kingdom come, and it will only reinforce the story we already believe. Maybe the person who hurt you is toxic and meant to do so, but maybe there is more to the story than you can see. Maybe they are as cruel as you imagine, but even so, you do not have to be defined by their actions. What matters is not what happened to you; what matters is the narrative you choose to believe. Your story is not over. You hold the pen. You are loved, my friend.
You are loved.
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Is AA Too Religious for Generation Z?
Are today’s mutual-aid recovery groups ready to satisfy Generation-next?“More than any other generation before them, Gen Z does not assert a religious identity. They might be drawn to things spiritual, but with a vastly different starting point from previous generations, many of whom received a basic education on the Bible and Christianity. And it shows: The percentage of Gen Z that identifies as atheist is double that of the U.S. adult population.”Released early this year, Barna Group’s Generation-Z Report (Americans born between 1999 and 2015) surveyed over 2,000 13 to 18-year-olds. The oldest of this generation turn 20 in 2019.According to AA’s most recent triennial membership survey, 1% of AA is under 21—that’s about 20,000 sober teenagers in AA rooms right now. What’s my personal affinity with this demographic? It’s two-fold: I have two millennial children and one 18-year-old stepson; secondly, while I am a grey-haired Baby Boomer, I was a teen at my first 12-step meeting. My 20th birthday was 1980, three months shy of my fourth anniversary clean and sober.I was a second-generation AA member and—like Barna’s youth focus group—my worldview seemed incompatible with the old fogies of 12-step rooms. My mother mused about finding god’s will for her from meditation or her daily horoscope. She was such a Virgo, you know. Horoscopes, higher powers, legends of Sasquatch, these were all fictional symbols as far as I was concerned. Reasonable people didn’t take such constructs literally, did they?Bob K, like me, is a second-generation AA. He’s currently between historical book projects; Key Players in AA History will soon have a prequel. Bob’s follow-up research will produce a book about pre-AA addiction and treatment. At age 40, Bob made it into AA as a result of his dad 12-stepping him. He also was uncomfortable with the emphasis on "God." “When I was a month sober, it was ‘God-this, God saved me’ and I was going to put my resignation in. I didn’t think I could stand it in AA any longer. I went to the internet of the day—which back then was the library—and I looked for non-religious alternatives to AA. They had them in California but nothing in Ontario Canada. So it was AA or nothing. If I tried to brave it alone, I’d be drunk; I knew it.”Today, Bob enjoys the likeminded company at his Secular AA home group, Whitby Freethinkers, which meets in the local suburban library just East of Toronto. If I were confronting addiction/recovery as a teen today, I wonder if I would go to AA or NA? If AA was once “the last house on the block,” today it’s one house in a subdivision of mutual-aid choices. Today, newcomers have access to Refuge Recovery, SMART Recovery, Secular Organizations for Sobriety (SOS), or Medically Assisted Treatment, none of which existed in the 1970s.On Practically Sane, therapist Jeffrey Munn states: “I like to take a practical approach … I’m not a fan of the ‘fluff’ and flowery language that is often associated with the world of psychology and self-help.” Jeffrey came into the rooms at 20, stayed sober for 2 ½ years, relapsed, came back and is now 13 years clean and sober.“I was mandated to three 12-step meetings per week to stay in the program I was in. Since I was young I have been agnostic. I wanted to find a higher power that was common sense-based, but in the rooms I felt pulled towards a more dogmatic spiritual idea of higher power. Back then, I needed to come up with my own conception of what was happening on a psychological level." Recently, Jeffrey wrote and published Staying Sober Without God: the Practical 12 Steps to Long Term Recovery from Alcoholism and Addiction.“I looked at SMART Recovery,” Jeffrey tells The Fix. “I looked at Moderation Management, too—that one struck me as being an organized resentment against AA—I wasn’t feeling it. When it comes down to social support and a practical plan of action, it’s hard to beat 12-step programs. What I try to teach is: if you don’t buy into any kind of a supernatural higher power, navigate the 12-step world, filtering the god-stuff out, working the program in your own way; there is lots that really works.”Barna reports, “Nearly half of teens, on par with Millennials, say, ‘I need factual evidence to support my beliefs.’” Jeffrey hopes Staying Sober Without God—which joins a growing secular 12-step recovery offering—offers the rational narrative today’s youth crave. Barna calls today’s youth “the first truly post-Christian generation [in America].”Certified Master Addiction Counselor David B. Bohl of Milwaukee understands the value of other-oriented care. David tells The Fix: “As head of a 20-bed coed dual-diagnosis treatment center, emerging adults, 18 to 25 years old, came into our care. I wouldn’t say that they universally shrugged off the 12-step approach but almost universally, in reaction to our volunteers, alumni, and traditional AA community, younger clients didn’t want what the volunteers and alumni had. And I wouldn’t say it was the religiosity always. Sometimes it was an age-thing or life approach. So, our recovery management function became that much more important in terms of building individualized treatment that suits everyone.“In the USA, 75% of all residential treatment centers identify as 12-step facilitators,” David tells us. “In the simplest form, our job is to introduce people to the language and the concept of the 12 steps and then to introduce the clients to support groups or people in support groups when they are discharged from acute care.Where trauma is involved—religious trauma in particular—traditional AA language and rituals trigger that shame they feel from negative formal religion experiences.”Let’s put this overbearing religion caution to a real-life test: Suwaida F was the second oldest of 11 children to Somalian refugee parents who fled to Canada in the 1980s.“In Kindergarten I didn’t have to wear a hijab; my parents weren’t super religious. I went to an Islamic school in grade one. It was normal for teachers to have belts with them, they would hit you; child abuse was normalized. They didn’t really teach us that much math, science, history. The Islamic teachers weren’t that educated. My parents took me out and put me in public school. Then, some of my mom’s Somalian-Canadian friends started moving their kids to Egypt. My friends would stay in Egypt two years, finish the Qur’an and the girls came back wearing burqas and head-scarves. Some Muslim friends would come to school in their hijab, take them off and put them back on when they went home. We called them The Transformers.My parents really wanted us to learn the Qur’an; I don’t speak Arabic, so it was difficult. And I never believed it. I asked my mom and dad, ‘How do you know that this stuff is real?’ They got frustrated and mad and said, ‘Don’t ever ask that question again.’ I knew it wasn’t real. Mom got more and more religious. Pictures of her at age 19 -- she wore no head-scarf when she was my age. My mom expected me to be religious and I rebelled. I had to leave home.”Suwaida misses her sisters. She feels unwelcome in the family home unless she is dressed in the Islamic custom and that wouldn’t be true to herself. Away from home, Suwaida found the welcoming community she craved in the booze and cocaine culture.“It wasn’t a matter of having no money; I had no sense of hope. People at work didn’t know I was hopped from shelter to shelter at night. One winter I was told, ‘Suwaida, you’ve been restricted from every youth shelter in the city of Toronto.’” As addiction progressed, Suwaida recalls an ever-descending patterns of compromises, bad relationships and regrets.“Today, it’s like I still never unpack my suitcase; I’m always ready to go.” During a stay at St. Joe’s detox, Suwaida went to her first NA meeting.“At 7 PM, a woman spoke. I made it clear that I thought it was stupid; I wouldn’t share. At the end, everyone was holding hands to pray and I said, ‘I’m not holding any of your hands.’ I didn’t go back. When I was discharged, I went drinking at the bar with my suitcase, not knowing where I was going to stay that night.My second meeting I consider my first, because I chose it. I thought I should go to AA. I googled atheist or freethinker AA to avoid a repeat of my NA experience. I found Beyond Belief Agnostics and Freethinkers Group on the University of Toronto campus. I went there last February. For a while, I had wine in my travel-mug, and I didn’t say anything. In August I felt like the woman beside me knew I was drinking, and I ask myself, ‘What am I doing?’ So, my next meeting, I went sober. I’ve been clean and sober ever since.”Despite the child-violence of Islamic school and rejection from her family, Suwaida isn’t anti-theist. “I do believe in God or in something. I feel like I’m always looking for signs. I don’t believe in a god in the sky but to say there’s nothing beyond all this doesn’t make any sense to me. Sometimes the freakiest things happen. Maybe it’s because I’m a storyteller, I try to make a story out of everything; you think of someone, then they phone you, is that random?I feel a part-of in secular or mainstream AA meetings. My self-talk still sounds like, ‘Don’t share Suwaida, you have nothing to add.’ Maybe it comes from not being able to express myself when I was growing up. I have no sense of self. I guess I have something special to offer but I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s hard; I have limited self-confidence.”“Give them their voice; listen to them,” is Kevin Schaefer’s approach. He co-hosts the podcast Don’t Die Wisconsin. He’s also a recovery coach.“I’ve been in Recovery 29+ years. I’m a substance abuse counselor and I got into addiction treatment through sober living. When I started working in a Suboxone clinic, I came to realize that AA can’t solve everything. I always come from a harm reduction standpoint: meth, cocaine, benzos; I ask, ‘Can you just smoke pot?’ and we start building the trust there.Medically Assisted Treatment (MAT) is geared towards this generation. Most kids coming through my door know a lot about MAT, more so than people in AA with the biases and stigma that they bring. Kids sometimes know more than the front-line social workers. Their friends are on MAT, that’s how they gather their information (not to say their information is all correct). But a lot of therapists don’t understand medication. Medication can be a ticket to survival out on the streets.”The Fix asked Kevin his opinion on the best suited mutual-aid group for this generation.“Most of the generation you’re talking about walks in with anxiety and defiantly won’t do groups.” We talked about the role of online video/voice or text meetings for a tech-native generation. “Yes—where appropriate. Women especially, because from what I’ve seen, most females have suffered from trauma. I have heard women who prefer online recovery; that make sense to me. I’ve been to InTheRooms.com; as professionals we have a duty to know what’s out there. And there are some crazies online.If someone has an Eastern philosophy bent, I’ll send them to Refuge Recovery; I’ve been there. If I can, I’ll set them up with somebody that I know can help them. And let’s not forget that some youth, if Christianity is your thing, Celebrate Recovery is amazing — talk about a community that wraps themselves around the substance user. There are movie nights, food, all kinds of extracurricular activities. The SMART Recovery Movement? Excellent. SMART momentum is building in Milwaukee. They are goal-oriented and the person gets supported whether they’re on Suboxone or, in one case I know, micro-dosing with LSD for depression; they’ll be supported either way. My goal with youth is: ‘Try to get to one meeting this month; start slow.’ Don’t set the bar too high and if they enjoy it, then great.The 12-step meeting I go to, it’s a men’s meeting. There are people there on medication and they don’t get blow-back. I wish more of AA was like this. When I came in, almost 30 years ago now, I saw all the God-stuff on the walls and I thought, ‘Nah, this isn’t going to work’ but thank G… (laughs), thank the Group of Drunks who said, ‘You don’t have to believe in that.’ The range in my meeting is broad—Eastern philosophy, Native American practices, Yoga, I was invited to Transcendental Meditation meetings at members’ houses. I was fortunate to fall into this group. You know, the first book my sponsor gave me was The Tao of Physics—not The Big Book—it was this 70’s book with Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, correlated to physics and contemporary science.”So, as to the question that kicked this off, some mutual aid meetings are ready to meet the taste of a new generation; results may vary. Who’s heard: “If you haven’t met anyone you don’t like in AA, you haven’t gone to enough meetings”?The reverse is true, also. If the peer-to-peer meetings I’ve sampled seem too narrow or dogmatic, maybe my search for just the right fit isn’t over. And if I don’t want a face-to-face meeting, there’s always Kevin’s podcast, virtual communities like The Fix, or I can order one of Bob or David or Jeffrey’s books if that’s more to my taste.
0 notes
Text
Is AA Too Religious for Generation Z?
Are today’s mutual-aid recovery groups ready to satisfy Generation-next?“More than any other generation before them, Gen Z does not assert a religious identity. They might be drawn to things spiritual, but with a vastly different starting point from previous generations, many of whom received a basic education on the Bible and Christianity. And it shows: The percentage of Gen Z that identifies as atheist is double that of the U.S. adult population.”Released early this year, Barna Group’s Generation-Z Report (Americans born between 1999 and 2015) surveyed over 2,000 13 to 18-year-olds. The oldest of this generation turn 20 in 2019.According to AA’s most recent triennial membership survey, 1% of AA is under 21—that’s about 20,000 sober teenagers in AA rooms right now. What’s my personal affinity with this demographic? It’s two-fold: I have two millennial children and one 18-year-old stepson; secondly, while I am a grey-haired Baby Boomer, I was a teen at my first 12-step meeting. My 20th birthday was 1980, three months shy of my fourth anniversary clean and sober.I was a second-generation AA member and—like Barna’s youth focus group—my worldview seemed incompatible with the old fogies of 12-step rooms. My mother mused about finding god’s will for her from meditation or her daily horoscope. She was such a Virgo, you know. Horoscopes, higher powers, legends of Sasquatch, these were all fictional symbols as far as I was concerned. Reasonable people didn’t take such constructs literally, did they?Bob K, like me, is a second-generation AA. He’s currently between historical book projects; Key Players in AA History will soon have a prequel. Bob’s follow-up research will produce a book about pre-AA addiction and treatment. At age 40, Bob made it into AA as a result of his dad 12-stepping him. He also was uncomfortable with the emphasis on "God." “When I was a month sober, it was ‘God-this, God saved me’ and I was going to put my resignation in. I didn’t think I could stand it in AA any longer. I went to the internet of the day—which back then was the library—and I looked for non-religious alternatives to AA. They had them in California but nothing in Ontario Canada. So it was AA or nothing. If I tried to brave it alone, I’d be drunk; I knew it.”Today, Bob enjoys the likeminded company at his Secular AA home group, Whitby Freethinkers, which meets in the local suburban library just East of Toronto. If I were confronting addiction/recovery as a teen today, I wonder if I would go to AA or NA? If AA was once “the last house on the block,” today it’s one house in a subdivision of mutual-aid choices. Today, newcomers have access to Refuge Recovery, SMART Recovery, Secular Organizations for Sobriety (SOS), or Medically Assisted Treatment, none of which existed in the 1970s.On Practically Sane, therapist Jeffrey Munn states: “I like to take a practical approach … I’m not a fan of the ‘fluff’ and flowery language that is often associated with the world of psychology and self-help.” Jeffrey came into the rooms at 20, stayed sober for 2 ½ years, relapsed, came back and is now 13 years clean and sober.“I was mandated to three 12-step meetings per week to stay in the program I was in. Since I was young I have been agnostic. I wanted to find a higher power that was common sense-based, but in the rooms I felt pulled towards a more dogmatic spiritual idea of higher power. Back then, I needed to come up with my own conception of what was happening on a psychological level." Recently, Jeffrey wrote and published Staying Sober Without God: the Practical 12 Steps to Long Term Recovery from Alcoholism and Addiction.“I looked at SMART Recovery,” Jeffrey tells The Fix. “I looked at Moderation Management, too—that one struck me as being an organized resentment against AA—I wasn’t feeling it. When it comes down to social support and a practical plan of action, it’s hard to beat 12-step programs. What I try to teach is: if you don’t buy into any kind of a supernatural higher power, navigate the 12-step world, filtering the god-stuff out, working the program in your own way; there is lots that really works.”Barna reports, “Nearly half of teens, on par with Millennials, say, ‘I need factual evidence to support my beliefs.’” Jeffrey hopes Staying Sober Without God—which joins a growing secular 12-step recovery offering—offers the rational narrative today’s youth crave. Barna calls today’s youth “the first truly post-Christian generation [in America].”Certified Master Addiction Counselor David B. Bohl of Milwaukee understands the value of other-oriented care. David tells The Fix: “As head of a 20-bed coed dual-diagnosis treatment center, emerging adults, 18 to 25 years old, came into our care. I wouldn’t say that they universally shrugged off the 12-step approach but almost universally, in reaction to our volunteers, alumni, and traditional AA community, younger clients didn’t want what the volunteers and alumni had. And I wouldn’t say it was the religiosity always. Sometimes it was an age-thing or life approach. So, our recovery management function became that much more important in terms of building individualized treatment that suits everyone.“In the USA, 75% of all residential treatment centers identify as 12-step facilitators,” David tells us. “In the simplest form, our job is to introduce people to the language and the concept of the 12 steps and then to introduce the clients to support groups or people in support groups when they are discharged from acute care.Where trauma is involved—religious trauma in particular—traditional AA language and rituals trigger that shame they feel from negative formal religion experiences.”Let’s put this overbearing religion caution to a real-life test: Suwaida F was the second oldest of 11 children to Somalian refugee parents who fled to Canada in the 1980s.“In Kindergarten I didn’t have to wear a hijab; my parents weren’t super religious. I went to an Islamic school in grade one. It was normal for teachers to have belts with them, they would hit you; child abuse was normalized. They didn’t really teach us that much math, science, history. The Islamic teachers weren’t that educated. My parents took me out and put me in public school. Then, some of my mom’s Somalian-Canadian friends started moving their kids to Egypt. My friends would stay in Egypt two years, finish the Qur’an and the girls came back wearing burqas and head-scarves. Some Muslim friends would come to school in their hijab, take them off and put them back on when they went home. We called them The Transformers.My parents really wanted us to learn the Qur’an; I don’t speak Arabic, so it was difficult. And I never believed it. I asked my mom and dad, ‘How do you know that this stuff is real?’ They got frustrated and mad and said, ‘Don’t ever ask that question again.’ I knew it wasn’t real. Mom got more and more religious. Pictures of her at age 19 -- she wore no head-scarf when she was my age. My mom expected me to be religious and I rebelled. I had to leave home.”Suwaida misses her sisters. She feels unwelcome in the family home unless she is dressed in the Islamic custom and that wouldn’t be true to herself. Away from home, Suwaida found the welcoming community she craved in the booze and cocaine culture.“It wasn’t a matter of having no money; I had no sense of hope. People at work didn’t know I was hopped from shelter to shelter at night. One winter I was told, ‘Suwaida, you’ve been restricted from every youth shelter in the city of Toronto.’” As addiction progressed, Suwaida recalls an ever-descending patterns of compromises, bad relationships and regrets.“Today, it’s like I still never unpack my suitcase; I’m always ready to go.” During a stay at St. Joe’s detox, Suwaida went to her first NA meeting.“At 7 PM, a woman spoke. I made it clear that I thought it was stupid; I wouldn’t share. At the end, everyone was holding hands to pray and I said, ‘I’m not holding any of your hands.’ I didn’t go back. When I was discharged, I went drinking at the bar with my suitcase, not knowing where I was going to stay that night.My second meeting I consider my first, because I chose it. I thought I should go to AA. I googled atheist or freethinker AA to avoid a repeat of my NA experience. I found Beyond Belief Agnostics and Freethinkers Group on the University of Toronto campus. I went there last February. For a while, I had wine in my travel-mug, and I didn’t say anything. In August I felt like the woman beside me knew I was drinking, and I ask myself, ‘What am I doing?’ So, my next meeting, I went sober. I’ve been clean and sober ever since.”Despite the child-violence of Islamic school and rejection from her family, Suwaida isn’t anti-theist. “I do believe in God or in something. I feel like I’m always looking for signs. I don’t believe in a god in the sky but to say there’s nothing beyond all this doesn’t make any sense to me. Sometimes the freakiest things happen. Maybe it’s because I’m a storyteller, I try to make a story out of everything; you think of someone, then they phone you, is that random?I feel a part-of in secular or mainstream AA meetings. My self-talk still sounds like, ‘Don’t share Suwaida, you have nothing to add.’ Maybe it comes from not being able to express myself when I was growing up. I have no sense of self. I guess I have something special to offer but I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s hard; I have limited self-confidence.”“Give them their voice; listen to them,” is Kevin Schaefer’s approach. He co-hosts the podcast Don’t Die Wisconsin. He’s also a recovery coach.“I’ve been in Recovery 29+ years. I’m a substance abuse counselor and I got into addiction treatment through sober living. When I started working in a Suboxone clinic, I came to realize that AA can’t solve everything. I always come from a harm reduction standpoint: meth, cocaine, benzos; I ask, ‘Can you just smoke pot?’ and we start building the trust there.Medically Assisted Treatment (MAT) is geared towards this generation. Most kids coming through my door know a lot about MAT, more so than people in AA with the biases and stigma that they bring. Kids sometimes know more than the front-line social workers. Their friends are on MAT, that’s how they gather their information (not to say their information is all correct). But a lot of therapists don’t understand medication. Medication can be a ticket to survival out on the streets.”The Fix asked Kevin his opinion on the best suited mutual-aid group for this generation.“Most of the generation you’re talking about walks in with anxiety and defiantly won’t do groups.” We talked about the role of online video/voice or text meetings for a tech-native generation. “Yes—where appropriate. Women especially, because from what I’ve seen, most females have suffered from trauma. I have heard women who prefer online recovery; that make sense to me. I’ve been to InTheRooms.com; as professionals we have a duty to know what’s out there. And there are some crazies online.If someone has an Eastern philosophy bent, I’ll send them to Refuge Recovery; I’ve been there. If I can, I’ll set them up with somebody that I know can help them. And let’s not forget that some youth, if Christianity is your thing, Celebrate Recovery is amazing — talk about a community that wraps themselves around the substance user. There are movie nights, food, all kinds of extracurricular activities. The SMART Recovery Movement? Excellent. SMART momentum is building in Milwaukee. They are goal-oriented and the person gets supported whether they’re on Suboxone or, in one case I know, micro-dosing with LSD for depression; they’ll be supported either way. My goal with youth is: ‘Try to get to one meeting this month; start slow.’ Don’t set the bar too high and if they enjoy it, then great.The 12-step meeting I go to, it’s a men’s meeting. There are people there on medication and they don’t get blow-back. I wish more of AA was like this. When I came in, almost 30 years ago now, I saw all the God-stuff on the walls and I thought, ‘Nah, this isn’t going to work’ but thank G… (laughs), thank the Group of Drunks who said, ‘You don’t have to believe in that.’ The range in my meeting is broad—Eastern philosophy, Native American practices, Yoga, I was invited to Transcendental Meditation meetings at members’ houses. I was fortunate to fall into this group. You know, the first book my sponsor gave me was The Tao of Physics—not The Big Book—it was this 70’s book with Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, correlated to physics and contemporary science.”So, as to the question that kicked this off, some mutual aid meetings are ready to meet the taste of a new generation; results may vary. Who’s heard: “If you haven’t met anyone you don’t like in AA, you haven’t gone to enough meetings”?The reverse is true, also. If the peer-to-peer meetings I’ve sampled seem too narrow or dogmatic, maybe my search for just the right fit isn’t over. And if I don’t want a face-to-face meeting, there’s always Kevin’s podcast, virtual communities like The Fix, or I can order one of Bob or David or Jeffrey’s books if that’s more to my taste.
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Text
Is AA Too Religious for Generation Z?
Are today’s mutual-aid recovery groups ready to satisfy Generation-next?“More than any other generation before them, Gen Z does not assert a religious identity. They might be drawn to things spiritual, but with a vastly different starting point from previous generations, many of whom received a basic education on the Bible and Christianity. And it shows: The percentage of Gen Z that identifies as atheist is double that of the U.S. adult population.”Released early this year, Barna Group’s Generation-Z Report (Americans born between 1999 and 2015) surveyed over 2,000 13 to 18-year-olds. The oldest of this generation turn 20 in 2019.According to AA’s most recent triennial membership survey, 1% of AA is under 21—that’s about 20,000 sober teenagers in AA rooms right now. What’s my personal affinity with this demographic? It’s two-fold: I have two millennial children and one 18-year-old stepson; secondly, while I am a grey-haired Baby Boomer, I was a teen at my first 12-step meeting. My 20th birthday was 1980, three months shy of my fourth anniversary clean and sober.I was a second-generation AA member and—like Barna’s youth focus group—my worldview seemed incompatible with the old fogies of 12-step rooms. My mother mused about finding god’s will for her from meditation or her daily horoscope. She was such a Virgo, you know. Horoscopes, higher powers, legends of Sasquatch, these were all fictional symbols as far as I was concerned. Reasonable people didn’t take such constructs literally, did they?Bob K, like me, is a second-generation AA. He’s currently between historical book projects; Key Players in AA History will soon have a prequel. Bob’s follow-up research will produce a book about pre-AA addiction and treatment. At age 40, Bob made it into AA as a result of his dad 12-stepping him. He also was uncomfortable with the emphasis on "God." “When I was a month sober, it was ‘God-this, God saved me’ and I was going to put my resignation in. I didn’t think I could stand it in AA any longer. I went to the internet of the day—which back then was the library—and I looked for non-religious alternatives to AA. They had them in California but nothing in Ontario Canada. So it was AA or nothing. If I tried to brave it alone, I’d be drunk; I knew it.”Today, Bob enjoys the likeminded company at his Secular AA home group, Whitby Freethinkers, which meets in the local suburban library just East of Toronto. If I were confronting addiction/recovery as a teen today, I wonder if I would go to AA or NA? If AA was once “the last house on the block,” today it’s one house in a subdivision of mutual-aid choices. Today, newcomers have access to Refuge Recovery, SMART Recovery, Secular Organizations for Sobriety (SOS), or Medically Assisted Treatment, none of which existed in the 1970s.On Practically Sane, therapist Jeffrey Munn states: “I like to take a practical approach … I’m not a fan of the ‘fluff’ and flowery language that is often associated with the world of psychology and self-help.” Jeffrey came into the rooms at 20, stayed sober for 2 ½ years, relapsed, came back and is now 13 years clean and sober.“I was mandated to three 12-step meetings per week to stay in the program I was in. Since I was young I have been agnostic. I wanted to find a higher power that was common sense-based, but in the rooms I felt pulled towards a more dogmatic spiritual idea of higher power. Back then, I needed to come up with my own conception of what was happening on a psychological level." Recently, Jeffrey wrote and published Staying Sober Without God: the Practical 12 Steps to Long Term Recovery from Alcoholism and Addiction.“I looked at SMART Recovery,” Jeffrey tells The Fix. “I looked at Moderation Management, too—that one struck me as being an organized resentment against AA—I wasn’t feeling it. When it comes down to social support and a practical plan of action, it’s hard to beat 12-step programs. What I try to teach is: if you don’t buy into any kind of a supernatural higher power, navigate the 12-step world, filtering the god-stuff out, working the program in your own way; there is lots that really works.”Barna reports, “Nearly half of teens, on par with Millennials, say, ‘I need factual evidence to support my beliefs.’” Jeffrey hopes Staying Sober Without God—which joins a growing secular 12-step recovery offering—offers the rational narrative today’s youth crave. Barna calls today’s youth “the first truly post-Christian generation [in America].”Certified Master Addiction Counselor David B. Bohl of Milwaukee understands the value of other-oriented care. David tells The Fix: “As head of a 20-bed coed dual-diagnosis treatment center, emerging adults, 18 to 25 years old, came into our care. I wouldn’t say that they universally shrugged off the 12-step approach but almost universally, in reaction to our volunteers, alumni, and traditional AA community, younger clients didn’t want what the volunteers and alumni had. And I wouldn’t say it was the religiosity always. Sometimes it was an age-thing or life approach. So, our recovery management function became that much more important in terms of building individualized treatment that suits everyone.“In the USA, 75% of all residential treatment centers identify as 12-step facilitators,” David tells us. “In the simplest form, our job is to introduce people to the language and the concept of the 12 steps and then to introduce the clients to support groups or people in support groups when they are discharged from acute care.Where trauma is involved—religious trauma in particular—traditional AA language and rituals trigger that shame they feel from negative formal religion experiences.”Let’s put this overbearing religion caution to a real-life test: Suwaida F was the second oldest of 11 children to Somalian refugee parents who fled to Canada in the 1980s.“In Kindergarten I didn’t have to wear a hijab; my parents weren’t super religious. I went to an Islamic school in grade one. It was normal for teachers to have belts with them, they would hit you; child abuse was normalized. They didn’t really teach us that much math, science, history. The Islamic teachers weren’t that educated. My parents took me out and put me in public school. Then, some of my mom’s Somalian-Canadian friends started moving their kids to Egypt. My friends would stay in Egypt two years, finish the Qur’an and the girls came back wearing burqas and head-scarves. Some Muslim friends would come to school in their hijab, take them off and put them back on when they went home. We called them The Transformers.My parents really wanted us to learn the Qur’an; I don’t speak Arabic, so it was difficult. And I never believed it. I asked my mom and dad, ‘How do you know that this stuff is real?’ They got frustrated and mad and said, ‘Don’t ever ask that question again.’ I knew it wasn’t real. Mom got more and more religious. Pictures of her at age 19 -- she wore no head-scarf when she was my age. My mom expected me to be religious and I rebelled. I had to leave home.”Suwaida misses her sisters. She feels unwelcome in the family home unless she is dressed in the Islamic custom and that wouldn’t be true to herself. Away from home, Suwaida found the welcoming community she craved in the booze and cocaine culture.“It wasn’t a matter of having no money; I had no sense of hope. People at work didn’t know I was hopped from shelter to shelter at night. One winter I was told, ‘Suwaida, you’ve been restricted from every youth shelter in the city of Toronto.’” As addiction progressed, Suwaida recalls an ever-descending patterns of compromises, bad relationships and regrets.“Today, it’s like I still never unpack my suitcase; I’m always ready to go.” During a stay at St. Joe’s detox, Suwaida went to her first NA meeting.“At 7 PM, a woman spoke. I made it clear that I thought it was stupid; I wouldn’t share. At the end, everyone was holding hands to pray and I said, ‘I’m not holding any of your hands.’ I didn’t go back. When I was discharged, I went drinking at the bar with my suitcase, not knowing where I was going to stay that night.My second meeting I consider my first, because I chose it. I thought I should go to AA. I googled atheist or freethinker AA to avoid a repeat of my NA experience. I found Beyond Belief Agnostics and Freethinkers Group on the University of Toronto campus. I went there last February. For a while, I had wine in my travel-mug, and I didn’t say anything. In August I felt like the woman beside me knew I was drinking, and I ask myself, ‘What am I doing?’ So, my next meeting, I went sober. I’ve been clean and sober ever since.”Despite the child-violence of Islamic school and rejection from her family, Suwaida isn’t anti-theist. “I do believe in God or in something. I feel like I’m always looking for signs. I don’t believe in a god in the sky but to say there’s nothing beyond all this doesn’t make any sense to me. Sometimes the freakiest things happen. Maybe it’s because I’m a storyteller, I try to make a story out of everything; you think of someone, then they phone you, is that random?I feel a part-of in secular or mainstream AA meetings. My self-talk still sounds like, ‘Don’t share Suwaida, you have nothing to add.’ Maybe it comes from not being able to express myself when I was growing up. I have no sense of self. I guess I have something special to offer but I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s hard; I have limited self-confidence.”“Give them their voice; listen to them,” is Kevin Schaefer’s approach. He co-hosts the podcast Don’t Die Wisconsin. He’s also a recovery coach.“I’ve been in Recovery 29+ years. I’m a substance abuse counselor and I got into addiction treatment through sober living. When I started working in a Suboxone clinic, I came to realize that AA can’t solve everything. I always come from a harm reduction standpoint: meth, cocaine, benzos; I ask, ‘Can you just smoke pot?’ and we start building the trust there.Medically Assisted Treatment (MAT) is geared towards this generation. Most kids coming through my door know a lot about MAT, more so than people in AA with the biases and stigma that they bring. Kids sometimes know more than the front-line social workers. Their friends are on MAT, that’s how they gather their information (not to say their information is all correct). But a lot of therapists don’t understand medication. Medication can be a ticket to survival out on the streets.”The Fix asked Kevin his opinion on the best suited mutual-aid group for this generation.“Most of the generation you’re talking about walks in with anxiety and defiantly won’t do groups.” We talked about the role of online video/voice or text meetings for a tech-native generation. “Yes—where appropriate. Women especially, because from what I’ve seen, most females have suffered from trauma. I have heard women who prefer online recovery; that make sense to me. I’ve been to InTheRooms.com; as professionals we have a duty to know what’s out there. And there are some crazies online.If someone has an Eastern philosophy bent, I’ll send them to Refuge Recovery; I’ve been there. If I can, I’ll set them up with somebody that I know can help them. And let’s not forget that some youth, if Christianity is your thing, Celebrate Recovery is amazing — talk about a community that wraps themselves around the substance user. There are movie nights, food, all kinds of extracurricular activities. The SMART Recovery Movement? Excellent. SMART momentum is building in Milwaukee. They are goal-oriented and the person gets supported whether they’re on Suboxone or, in one case I know, micro-dosing with LSD for depression; they’ll be supported either way. My goal with youth is: ‘Try to get to one meeting this month; start slow.’ Don’t set the bar too high and if they enjoy it, then great.The 12-step meeting I go to, it’s a men’s meeting. There are people there on medication and they don’t get blow-back. I wish more of AA was like this. When I came in, almost 30 years ago now, I saw all the God-stuff on the walls and I thought, ‘Nah, this isn’t going to work’ but thank G… (laughs), thank the Group of Drunks who said, ‘You don’t have to believe in that.’ The range in my meeting is broad—Eastern philosophy, Native American practices, Yoga, I was invited to Transcendental Meditation meetings at members’ houses. I was fortunate to fall into this group. You know, the first book my sponsor gave me was The Tao of Physics—not The Big Book—it was this 70’s book with Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, correlated to physics and contemporary science.”So, as to the question that kicked this off, some mutual aid meetings are ready to meet the taste of a new generation; results may vary. Who’s heard: “If you haven’t met anyone you don’t like in AA, you haven’t gone to enough meetings”?The reverse is true, also. If the peer-to-peer meetings I’ve sampled seem too narrow or dogmatic, maybe my search for just the right fit isn’t over. And if I don’t want a face-to-face meeting, there’s always Kevin’s podcast, virtual communities like The Fix, or I can order one of Bob or David or Jeffrey’s books if that’s more to my taste.
from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://www.thefix.com/aa-too-religious-generation-z
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