#i just want to experience what its like to not disappoint someone on some level. that would be nice.

[i-write-sin-not-tragedy]

.

[writerscall]

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

“Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door. 

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.

[attractive-nuisance-esq]

Ed’s journey this season is going to perfectly mirror addiction and recovery, and I am so fucking here for it. Watching these first three episodes of S2 was like watching a highly dramatized AU of my own descent into rock bottom (except everyone was dressed wayyyyyy cooler than I ever was), so I have a lot of thoughts, reactions, and insights that I want to share with other fans. I’m sure many of us who have struggled with our mental health connected with Ed in these episodes, but I think addiction is the most appropriate lens through which to view him because addicts (more often than people who struggle with other mental illnesses) so wholly destroy their own lives and utterly devastate those of their loved ones. I want to share - from the perspective of someone who has steered her own ship straight into a storm and woke up alone to face some very hard choices - what is going on with Ed at the start of this season and what I think is coming.

Let me start by saying that Ed isn’t literally addicted to any one thing, despite his heavy use of drugs and alcohol, but his goal is the same as that of all addicts: escape. He does not want to sit with the pain of Stede leaving him on an immediate, surface level; on a deeper, more habitual level, he doesn’t want to sit with the pain of his own self-loathing. Of course the two are related: the former brings the latter to a head. Stede abandoning him dredges up and brightly illuminates all of his insecurities, and now Ed has to run. Get out. Escape. Don’t think about it. So he is fighting, stealing, drinking, snorting, shooting, killing - whatever it takes to not think about it.

“Demon? I’m the fuckin’ devil.” People in recovery often talk about addiction as if it were a separate, sentient monster living within them. Ed taking on the mantle of demon - a creature known specifically for possession, for removing the host’s free will - is intentional. So is his insistence that he’s not just any demon but the demon. The worst there is. (More on that when we get to The Innkeeper.)

Izzy’s confrontation of Ed in the captain’s cabin and then on deck is a form of intervention. Izzy is trying to help Ed, but of course this goes terribly for him and for Ed because interventions (I cannot stress this enough) are maybe the worst thing you could do to an addict. All addicts know things are bad, but they cannot be pushed to change one single second before they’re ready. Ed knows things are bad. He’s well-aware of how he’s spending his time, how his crew feels about him, how disappointed Izzy is. Being confronted with all of those truths by Izzy was always only going to make him do two things: 1) dig further into his unhealthy coping mechanisms, never mind that they don’t have nearly the effect that they used to; and 2) lash out at the person who forced him to think about it. Izzy lost his leg the moment he stepped into Ed’s cabin.

The impossible bird. You guys remember the song Chandelier by Sia? The one about her addiction to alcohol? The whole thing may as well come right out of Ed’s mouth at the end of that first episode, because that experience is exactly what he’s trying to convey to Frenchie. Nevermind that Frenchie has the temerity to tell him the bird can’t exist, that it has to come down sometime, that flying forever isn’t sustainable. The bird can come down on its own terms, or crash… but Frenchie’s definitely not going to say that much. Still, “that sounds like something that can’t exist” hits Ed, and leads us to the next episode.

Now we’ve got Ed forlorn, heartbroken, almost catatonic while playing with his cake toppers. We don’t actually see him crying in the opening of the episode, which is the point. He’s done crying now. The impossible bird can’t exist, and Ed has already resigned himself to this. He’s decided to die. The only sure-fire permanent way to not think about it.

When next we see Ed, he seems to be doing better, but this is a huge red flag for anyone who knows to look. He’s giving away his responsibility to Frenchie; he’s cleaning the cabin for the closure. He knows the end is coming fast, and the relief that knowledge brings him leaves him weirdly at peace. It is he eeriest part of these episodes, IMO.

Then he goes to find his first mate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world, the man he just fucking shot and ordered killed. Ed needs his low opinion of himself validated, and of course he thinks he’ll get it from Izzy after everything he’s done to him. He wants the one person who has stuck with him through everything to confirm that he’s now irretrievably broken and no longer worthy of his love. Ed wants someone to tell him that he’s right: he should die.

He doesn’t get that from Izzy. Interestingly, Izzy doesn’t tell him he should die. He says “Clean up your own mess.” Izzy has learned the lesson now that Ed isn’t ready to get better and that he can’t make him be ready. (This post isn’t about Izzy, but hoo boy - I have big feels about that man.)

Ed has been indulging in various forms of self-destruction in order to not feel his feelings, and steering the ship into the storm is his worst indulgence yet. This is the worst of his crimes - not beheading or arson or a red wedding. It’s when he tries to bring down everyone who has ever loved him into his misery, into believing what he believes. The audience generally (and Ed’s audience of Stede specifically) can forgive him for hurting strangers and for the non-specific mayhem whose victims we’ve never met; but it is much less certain that anyone will forgive him for hurting the only family he’s ever known.

The storm itself is the perfect metaphor for Ed’s attempt on his and, incidentally, everyone else’s lives. One of the most common metaphors used by friends and family members of addicts is that of a hurricane: that their addicted loved-ones tend to destroy everything they touch, anyone who was foolish or brave enough to stick around. And, like hurricanes, addicts aren’t malicious. Ed’s primary goal here is to get himself killed, not to kill everyone else. He wants the ship to go down so his death is certain. His firing a cannonball into the mast and asking Jim and Archie to fight to the death isn’t malice: it’s utter and complete nihilism. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing and no one. The end is near, and he’s so fucking drunk and high off these distractions that he couldn’t think about it if he tried. He’s manic with relief. (See also: “Finally.”)

And now for the finale: Purgatory. Buckle up, because this is where the addiction analogy gets real *chef’s kiss.* Purgatory is the equivalent of the morning after the worst, most rock bottom binge night of your life. You wake up with no one for company but the ghosts of your former selves. Now what?

Well, first - who is Hornigold to Ed? Why is he the guy Ed sees? It’s because Hornigold is another addict, if you will, but one who is (in this Purgatory hallucination) farther along in his recovery. He can impart some wisdom from that place, but he can also stand in as someone Ed can loathe because they’re not as different as Ed once thought, even if Hornigold can say he’s grown.

Hornigold tries to give him soup. He tells Ed, “Gotta get these nutrients into you,” and then literally shoves soup down his throat. That’s what it’s like in rock bottom. You don’t want to take care of yourself, but some lizard brain survival instinct takes over and makes you drink water, eat a piece of fruit, take yourself to the hospital. These things don’t really happen voluntarily that morning after, but you can still count on that instinct to kick in with some damage control.

Ed telling Hornigold how he “got here.” Hornigold says “Mutiny. It’s always mutiny.” Ed insists his mutiny was special, worse somehow. This whole scene is exactly what happens in your first recovery support group meeting. You go in thinking no one has ever been as fucked and fucked up as you are, which makes you feel isolated and alone. But then you get there and everyone else in the circle has done the same shit, been through the same shit. Ed’s not actually the devil; he’s just another demon, like many demons before him.

Ed worries he’s insane when he reflects on everything he’s done. Hornigold’s reply that “Feeling bad isn’t going to rebuild an abdominal wall” is a concept that people usually learn a little bit later in recovery, so I expect we’ll see more on this theme from Ed. Guilt is a useless emotion that only serves to conversely make the addict feel better but doesn’t help the harmed party: the addict feels like their suffering is cleansing, but it’s not - feeling guilt is just more self-indulgence, more self-destruction. Hornigold - a fellow addict in this moment - is trying to get this lesson to him early. It’ll return.

“You’ve got to move on or blow your brains out.” We’re getting back to Purgatory as the metaphor for the morning-after rock bottom, because this is the exact calculation that every person in recovery has done. They all had to answer that one big question. Your whole life is a mess, and you made the mess. Do you want to clean it up? Or quit? (Or make some soup? Yeah. That big question can’t be answered without basic needs having been met. So let’s eat. Let’s start there. It’s easier.)

Now we have Ed’s fantasy about opening an inn: This is also a common part of the morning-after rock bottom. You start thinking about the wrong turns you took, the mistakes you made, the way your life was supposed to go and all the reasons you’re not where you wanted to be. (And all the people you can blame for the fact that your life didn’t go as planned.) And when that honest part of yourself starts telling you that actually it’s all your fault… well, a) you don’t wanna hear it, and b) you can’t silence (kill) that monster, no matter how hard you try. You’ve got to face it. Face all those truths you’ve been running from for years. Now you have to think about it.

So now the big question, the inevitable math. Hornigold suggests looking at the pros and the cons. That’s the easiest way to break the calculation into manageable variables. This is probably my favorite moment of the episode, because when you’re sitting there, morning after the worst night of your life, everything is fucked - these are the exact variables that go into your equation. Do I really want to live? You ask yourself that, and because your life is in fucking shambles, you come up with the stupidest goddamn reasons to keep going. You wanna see the next seasons of Good Omens and Loki. You wanna eat your mom’s spaghetti again. Sometimes it’s nice when someone hugs you. It’s never the big things that save your life; it’s a bunch of the littlest things. The smallest comforts. The big things… they’re too unattainable. They’re too much to hope for, and they’re more than you could possibly deserve. What are the pros of living for Ed? Warmth, good food, orgasms. This is a stunningly accurate representation of the things that will keep you alive once you’ve hit rock bottom.

And then the cons: “I don’t think anyone is waiting for me.” This is why addiction is the better metaphor. There is no human experience more isolating than addiction. You are alone in more ways than you’ve ever been before. You have pushed away or pissed off everyone who ever cared about you. And even the ones who will maybe still be there for you - they can’t help you clean up the mess you’ve made. You have to do the work alone, even if they’re still willing to stand next to you. And this con… it’s the scariest one. Your list of little pros looks so pathetic next to the horror of being utterly fucking alone. Who is going to brave that for some stupid shit like Tom Hiddleston sexily flipping his hair back in that Loki way he does? Why should Ed carry on just because blankets are cozy and marmalade is pleasant?

This is where we get to the moment on the mountain, and what Stede represents. Hornigold tells Ed “You’re unlovable, and you’re afraid to do anything about it.” Ed could do two things about being unlovable: He could try to fix it, or he could end it all. Hornigold represents the worst part of Ed: his weaknesses and cowardice. And if Hornigold is in the driver’s seat, he’s going to end it all. He throws the rock off the cliff, and Ed gets dragged down into the water to drown. (Let’s also talk later about how often addiction is compared to drowning, and how nothing else in the show actually threatened Ed’s life - not Izzy with a gun, not all the rhino horn, not Jim’s cannonball - like drowning in his own mind.)

But then there’s Stede. Stede is how the pros win over that one big, horrifying con. Stede is hope. Stede is just a glimmer of hope. Hope is the most important thing you need in the morning-after rock bottom. As much as I enjoy the idea that it was love that saved Ed, I don’t think that’s a wholly faithful interpretation. Because Stede’s love for Ed doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t fix anything - it certainly doesn’t fix Ed. It cannot fix Ed. Hornigold just told Ed that he’s the one who has to “do something about it,” because Ed is the only one who can save himself. But even if Stede’s love for him in itself isn’t what saves Ed, Ed’s trust in Stede combined with that love gives him hope. Stede loves Ed, truly loves him, came back to him even though he knows Ed’s nature, knows his list of crimes, knows what he’s done to Stede’s friends and family. And maybe Ed can find in himself what he trusts Stede truly sees. It’s a “maybe,” not a certainty. But it’s hope. Someone loves him. Maybe he can love himself, too.

This Woman’s Work: I read this song as referring more appropriately to Ed’s relationship with himself, in no small part because Ed literally made himself the woman in the cake topper couple. All the things that should have been done, should have been said - they’re things Ed needs to do and say to himself. He’s got a little life and a lot of strength left. The journey has just begun.

I want to pop back quickly to a few other moments in The Innkeeper that resonated, starting with Stede and Izzy’s discussion about what happened to Ed: “He went mad. He was a wild dog.” Izzy describes Ed’s breakdown as if he was no longer the same person he once was; this is exactly what addiction does to a person. Ed hasn’t been himself; he’s been held hostage by his need for escape, and he’s become something else. Possessed, if you will.

Izzy: “You and me did this to him, and we can’t let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes.” I’m not writing an essay on Izzy (yet), but this is a very interesting perspective that says a lot about Izzy. Stede and Izzy both owe apologies to Ed, but they are not responsible for his actions. I predict we’re going to see this theme explored in later episodes as a part of Ed’s healing process and recovery. And also hopefully in Izzy’s growth.

Frenchie’s line that “We’ve been living second-to-second for a while now” is a callback to the impossible bird idea. Which, again, is just Chandelier x Sia. “I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight.”

So what’s next? For me, it was learning to sit alone in a quiet room with my thoughts. It was apologizing to the ones I hurt, because even if I didn’t mean to hurt them - even if I was suffering also and worse - they still got hurt, and in the end it didn’t matter why. It was developing the habit of liking myself, and acting on whatever self-love and affection I could conjure up. And yes… it was new seasons of Good Omens and Loki, my mom’s spaghetti, and hugs.

So I think Ed has a lot of accountability, reflection, and breaking of old habits in his future… but also warmth, good food, and orgasms. And good for him. That’s the beauty of recovery: we get to come back.

[avelera]

Headcanon: ADHD Hob and Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

So I went down the rabbithole on ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria (and found this lecture that legit made me tear up if you have or think you have ADHD, go listen to it here) and it got me thinking, as everything is wont to do, about Hob Gadling and how if he had ADHD, which I think there's lots of fun in-text hints at that at least allow that interpretation, what are some other ways that could manifest besides his ebullient and never-ending love of life in all its endless variety?

So as sufferers of ADHD know, it's not all fun and games. The flip side of living with a dopamine-starved brain that's always seeking out new experiences and seeing the world through that lens is that other emotions slam us hard too, like rejection sensitivity dysphoria aka, "the most minor criticism can feel like an actual knife in the chest, no I don't mean mildly bummed out, I mean full on fight-or-flight brain meltdown because someone told you a comma is in the wrong place in your manuscript (not that I'm speaking from personal experience yes it's that dumb)".

ANYWAY, so I'm thinking about Hob and RSD and specifically 1789.

Specifically the line, "It's just how it's done," referring to horrific practice of human trafficking and how Hob basically shrugs while, to his minor credit, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, about the fact he actively profits from this industry, and the way he cringes in on himself when called out kinda seems to indicate that he knows it's a vile practice and isn't super comfortable with being reminded of his fact by someone he respects, like Dream.

A couple notes on that little exchange between Hob and Dream:

1 ) The face Ferdinand Kingsley-as-Hob makes in that moment is absolute textbook adult ADHD rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Namely, the point where you know criticism hits you like a knife in the heart, particularly from people you respect, and you just have to cover that flinch of literal physical pain with a careful poker face.

The way Hob's tone suddenly goes cold and with his very genteel, received-pronunciation manners he levels Dream with perhaps the closest he's ever come at this point to lashing out, "You're giving me advice...?"

I'm not saying that canonically it's RSD, or that neurotypical people don't suffer pain and disappointment when receiving disapproval, but to my eyes at least, Ferdie Hob takes Dream's comment very seriously, much more so than the comic counterpart did (who needed multiple nudges before he even realized what Dream was trying to tell him about getting out of the shipping business and still seemed a bit clueless about why Dream would want that or care by the end).

2 ) Going into proper headcanon territory, I personally chart Hob's journey from destitute to wealthy slave trader as the product of someone who stopped giving a shit about others after everything he suffered in the 1600s. To be perfectly clear, this is not a fucking excuse for it, it's an examination of motives.

Because technically, after everything Hob suffered in the 1600s, he could have emerged with more empathy for the plight of others. But clearly that didn't happen. From an entirely human motivation level, that leads me personally to the conclusion that since no one helped Hob when he was at his lowest (not even Dream, though I dearly wish it was otherwise and wrote extensively on what would have happened if he had) that led him to the belief, put simply, that fuck the world so long as he got his. Why should he care about anyone else if no one cared about him?

But to go back to the topic of this essay, RSD, there's an additional element to that theory on why and how Hob leaned into not giving a shit about others, and that missing factor from what's described above is the element of everyone is doing it. Specifically worded as, "It's just how it's done."

Another really fascinating lecture I listened to on ADHD talked about how the most common trauma reaction ADHDers have to their sense of rejection, shame, and guilt that comes the way our brains react to the world is by hiding. And that also got me thinking about 1789 Hob in this context.

Because Hob as we see him in 1589 is loud in his happiness. He's sitting there, bold as brass in the middle of the White Horse, showing off his wealth with a banquet, loudly declaiming about how he pretended to be his own son twice, worked in the Tudor shipyards (what would have been 50+ years before) and just how he spent the last 100 years working his way up to his knighthood. The man does not have an ounce of caution in him. But, he is also by far the happiest we ever see Hob (up until Dream ditches him in the middle of their date).

This is important because to my eyes, Hob is living openly and unashamed and with only the barest hint of caution typified by pretending to be his own son every couple decades. The way he describes his last 100 years sounds like an ADHD dream, basically getting a boat load of money from Caxton's printing press (basically the first tech startup unicorn of the modern era) and then running around wherever his interests took him where he also made money hand over fist, kept climbing, and eventually reached the point where he could purchase the acclaim and regard of a member of the (albeit minor) nobility. All of this after being born a peasant. That's just validation and money and prestige and getting to pursue your special interest and live as your authentic self all over the place. And I do mean authentic, Hob doesn't even seem particularly worried about talking openly in the White Horse about being 200+ years old, a strong case could be made that he's not that careful in his personal life either.

So anyway, Hob has this amazing century literally followed by the worst century imaginable, filled with the sort of horrors that can tear a man's soul asunder. Losing his family, his beloved wife in childbirth with their new baby, his adult son, his home, his money, everything he spent a century building. His title and name are gone too because of the nature of how he lost it with the accusation of witch craft, which also means he can't just fake being his own son again to get it all back because they're explicitly going to notice that this time.

And how did this all happen? Because Hob got noticed. He lived there 40 years, overconfident is his own words. Which is a wild thing to say about a bunch of witch hunters showing up at his door! He blames himself for being drowned as a witch. On the one hand, I imagine he has to think that way because otherwise he has to admit to the sheer brutal randomness of life, so in a way he's trying to take control of the narrative by blaming himself.

But it also smacks of ADHD again because ADHDers very commonly shift the blame onto themselves after years of their unique nervous system response making them a round peg in a square hole of wider society. We learn over and over that the mistakes we make are our fault, because of "laziness" or "apathy" which isn't apathy at all but deep agony over our inability to accomplish tasks in a neurotypical way without the support we need, but I digress. But it sure sounds like Hob may have been paralyzed by grief for literal decades and then blamed himself for not getting the mental spoons together in that context to move on and reinvent his life after losing his wife and child. Which would be a very ADHD thing to do.

So after this absolutely brutal smackdown by reality for living too openly, too loud, too ADHD, getting paralyzed by the powerful emotions he felt (if we follow the headcanon) over the grief and loss in his life, what is Hob's next step?

Hiding.

Blending in.

Not rocking the boat.

And again, not excusing it, there's plenty of other industries he could have gone into to blend in that didn't involve human trafficking. That said, if he went to sea, which we know Hob did on many occasions from the comic, it would be seen by his peers there at sea as a normal way to make one's fortune, and then.... well, we have as evidence that this is his current peer-group the sort-of pride with which Hob announces how he's making his fortune these days in the "shipping business", as if he's expecting Dream's approval.

That to me, reads a bit like the people pleaser/social chameleon aspect of ADHD. Hob is expecting to be praised for being successful by Dream the way he would likely be praised by his peers in the shipping business or among the wealthy privileged men of England. He's so steeped in that world now that he's clearly taken aback when Dream takes the (at the time more radical but not uncommon) stance of, "This is wrong."

And Hob knew it. But he was blending in. He was going along with how things are done. He wasn't rocking the boat. He has other hints at trauma responses too, "salting money around the world" in case there's political upheaval, for example. This is not the loud, boisterous Sir Robert Gadlen untouched by loss or trauma. He has been humbled and tempered and, indeed, made afraid by what happened to him.

This sort of wild swing towards protectiveness? Again, also ADHD. As the lecturer I linked first noted, ADHDers are textbook defenders. They are always defending themselves from the world that can suddenly, unexpectedly, plant a knife in their heart because of a perceived rejection. From a world that wants their brain to work in a way it doesn't, so they have to come up with myriad painful coping mechanisms to fit in, blend in, mask, and function. Hob was forced to protect himself after the 1600s, so he did, with money, and with not caring about other people, and with insulating himself from privilege, and becoming a social chameleon.

1589 Hob tries to earn back Dream's interest, but he doesn't fawn. Dream shows interest in Shaxberd and Hob, already starting to get irritated, tells him no, Shaxberd is crap.

And you can tell in 1789 that Hob is thinking about that day again when he gets Dream's disapproval, because who does he reference? That lad, Will Shaxberd. He's fearing rejection and abandonment again, or at least it's crossed his mind after Dream's admonishment. But this time, Hob is fawning more, very nearly flirting. He's trying to play the game better this time, trying to keep Dream's interest, social chameleoning the subject onto safer topics, things he thinks will interest Dream, as Shaxberd so clearly did, so let's talk about him if that's what you care about. Again, another ADHD social chameleon, people pleaser aspect. We are nervous empaths, we are constantly picking up a bazillion signals both real and imagined. And we're so fucking terrified of that RSD knife in the heart, we become people pleasers to avoid it. After the shipping business brag fell through, Hob pivots to talking about Dream and what, in his experience, Dream seems to like and talk about favorably.

So anyway, many many ADHD-esque rambling words later, there's a few more little details I'd add to the list of "possible ADHD behavior, not just the fun parts" for Hob Gadling. Is it canon? Maybe not. But it does make for a great headcanon, in my opinion.

[antianakin]

I wanna know what your thoughts on the Jedi of the High Republic Era are, cause I’ve been scrolling your Pro Jedi tag (all your opinions are so real btw) and while the Jedi orders painted in a positive light in the PT (not that some people have the media literacy to understand that), THR explores the perspectives of Jedi of all ranks more than the films were able to, as well as seeing how everyday civilians interact with them

My experience of High Republic has been immensely limited because I've only read the three adult novels in Phase 1 (Light of the Jedi, The Rising Storm, and The Fallen Star) and nothing else, so please know that the opinions I express here are based on a very small sample of High Republic content. It's possible I'd like some of the other stuff if I tried it, but I got a little discouraged by The Fallen Star and so I haven't really gone back to it.

So my very first opinion here is that I appreciated that there's a lot of evidence of the Jedi and the Republic's government working together on issues. There's not as much of the separation we see grow with Palpatine in charge during the Prequels and there's a level of respect between the two groups as they work to deal with the problem of the Nihil. There's a lot of commentary from fans about the relationship we see between the Jedi and the Republic during the Prequels and about whether the Jedi should've been more or less involved in politics and whether the relationship was one that did them any good or if it was always a bad idea, and so I really loved the way that Light of the Jedi in particular showcased this relationship as a very positive one right from the jump.

I didn't necessarily HATE any of the Jedi characters, but there were only two that I had strong positive feelings towards and the others I was primarily neutral about. The two I liked the most were Regald Cole (gone too soon) and Bell Zettifar. I thought Regald was ADORABLE and I personally found him really funny, anyone who told him he had a bad sense of humor were just wrong. Bell is really sweet and it seems difficult NOT to feel for him, especially when the various authors seem to just delight in giving him like two to three new traumas in each successive novel. He just doesn't get a break. I loved that he got a service dog, his relationship with Ember is awesome and I think more Jedi should have pets or animal companions of some kind, it's sadly underutilized.

Elzar Mann was fine, I appreciated the exploration of someone who was struggling with darkness but hadn't really lost himself to it completely, that's something I think we've not seen a lot of in Star Wars high canon. I'm less into the romance of it all he has with Avar, I just don't care. Part of that might be because Avar is rarely around and so we don't get a real idea of what their dynamic is in order for me to root for them or feel bad for them, part of it might be that I'm just feeling oversaturated on romance narratives in general, and part of it might be that I just am leery of romance narratives for Jedi specifically.

Stellan Gios was my biggest disappointment. I'd heard he was basically a High Republic Obi-Wan in a lot of ways, and I love Obi-Wan quite a lot, so I'd expected to enjoy Stellan and then... didn't. While you CAN view Stellan's narrative as about struggles specific to him and nothing else, I personally felt like his narrative was meant to be viewed as something of a metaphor about the Jedi Council and the Order itself beginning to lose its way and stray from what it means to be a Jedi. Stellan spends a lot of his time feeling lost and distant from the people he cares about and then a lot of time in The Fallen Star is spent on emphasizing the difference between him and Orla Jareni which seems to lean in the direction that Orla's way of being a Jedi (Wayseekers, who are basically just defined as Jedi who don't answer to the Jedi Council and apparently just do whatever they want wherever and whenever they want, which really just lands them in the category of being a Gray Jedi by another name) is the far superior way of doing things than Stellan's. Stellan also expresses a jealousy over Avar and Elzar's relationship specifically because they have romantic feelings for each other which I guess makes it stronger or something. And then he seemingly dies at the end of that book and if that sticks then it's a really unsatisfying end to the character and if it doesn't, then I'm convinced Stellan is at the beginning of a really Jedi critical storyline that I am so uninterested in that it hurts.

As you can clearly tell from the last paragraph, I'm not a fan of Orla Jareni or the Wayseekers. I don't like what they represent and the way they're being used to send certain messages about the Jedi, specifically about the Prequels Jedi.

As much as I adore Bell as a character, I wasn't a big fan of the idea that he was ready to be knighted at 18 years old. Even if we assume he was chosen earlier, like around 11-13, that still means that he got 7 years of training AT MOST, which is three years LESS and a year younger than Anakin, who is supposed to be a prodigy. I personally believe that Anakin's record of 10 years should be the minimum a Jedi Padawan could possibly take to become a Knight if they become a Padawan that early. Obi-Wan himself takes 12 years when he is chosen at 13. I would only accept a 7 year apprenticeship for a Padawan who was chosen at the more normal age of like 16-18. Bell doesn't seem to be indicated to be a prodigy of any kind, so I find it weird and unrealistic that he would somehow be ready to be a Knight at the age of 18 (which is arguably closer to the age he should've been CHOSEN, not the age at which he should be getting KNIGHTED). This to me seems like it's just trying to associate becoming a Knight with reaching adulthood, which isn't quite how it works. Even outside of Star Wars, that's not how apprenticeships ever work. It doesn't help that Bell seems so far from being ready to be a Knight when this poor kid can't even jump from a tall height yet, which appears to be a pretty basic skill for Jedi to learn. He needs like 3-5 more years of apprenticeship at minimum.

I don't know if I can really talk about my opinions on "everyday civilian interactions" with HR Jedi given that the three books I have read primarily focus on large scale crises and catastrophes the Jedi are dealing with and so there's relatively little of that. I don't remember having a ton of strong opinions on it, so I assume it was probably fine and not like notably off or memorably excellent. There's just enough respect for Jedi for most civilians to listen to them in a crisis but when things go wrong, those same civilians often lose faith pretty quickly, which is a pretty common theme in Star Wars in general, even in more Jedi positive content.

So TL;DR I think the first two adult novels are quite Jedi positive and I did enjoy them, but I found Stellan's narrative a little grating and by the third book it seemed to get more overtly Jedi critical and that put me off of reading more within the High Republic universe.

[enden-k]

Can I ask what makes Arlecchino evil? I'm v much a villain enjoyer and like some morally greyness, but I genuinely didn't pick up on a lot of bad stuff with Arlecchino. She was super helpful during Fontaine and seemed to be the only powerful person who cared about helping the common folk when the water levels were rising.

I'm not here to start an argument, just wanna expand my view 🙏

dw didnt think u want to argue! i will also use this to say i wont tolerate arguments, this goes for everyone here

i will talk about sensitive themes under the cut (mentions of when i was groomed/emotionally abused by my adoptive father/mentions of abuse/grooming in general) so if someones not good with this, be warned please and dont click for your emotional comfort.

i really love arlecchino (theres also difficult, personal reasons ig) and id rather wait for her to arrive to get more information than we have so far through other characters/side quests/main quest but well.

her goals aligned with ours in the fontaine quest which is why we have the impression shes a good/nice person, especially considering our other meetings with the harbingers we met so far (signora, childe, scara, dottore) and the situations. shes very calm and diplomatic (lets see how it changes in the next update when we fight her)

but we shouldnt forget how the travellers on their toes the entire time/everytime they come in contact with arle. its because shes a harbinger after all. shes a danger. her graceful politeness and calmness is supposed to have you on guard, make your hairs rise. shes mentioned to be manipulative and shes manipulating others to achieve what she wants by being nice and calm. she has ulterior motives. we should be careful. this is my impression based on my own gaming experience and idk if it was the same w others, but bc of us being on guard around her i was always prepared for her to turn on us until the end of the main quest.

anw, arle is supposed to be intimidating and have you wary. even tho she comes off as nice and polite, having done good and helped in the main story. its bc thats what she wanted and you happened to have the same goal. also lets not forget scaras and childes thoughts about her which already tells a lot

she has two sides. the one we saw in the quest, the graceful, calm, polite face to get what she wants. and the other, the one scara and childe talk about here, the one they call "crazy"

not to mention her codename, "the knave". what does it mean? servant. what else does it mean? "dishonest/deceitful man". basically, swindler. isnt it perfect?

shes manipulative and whatever her "true" nature is, we dont know (yet). she may have "good intentions" here or there but will achieve them no matter what it takes.

as for the thing you can consider as bad; the house of the hearth is an orphanage that raises children into fatui agents. only those who have potential join the ranks while the others are kept close (its not known whats done with them afaik). theyre basically grooming/raising child soldiers/spies.

before the sensitive stuff comes up, for the ppl who dont want to proceed, arlecchino fools/manipulates you into thinking shes a nice person/good parent. its amazing and so in character for her. its also scary how some ppl cant see the abuse/manipulation unless you went through this too or well. just actually read and realize it.

arlecchino is an emotionally manipulative parental figure. now, this is coming from someone who went through heavy abuse/was groomed by their adoptive father who was extremely manipulative and i spot so many things very well known to me. others who went through the same get this feeling. these signs you immediately recognize.

you get punished for the tiniest mistakes and when you get loved, it makes you forget all that was done to you, just for that tiny bit of affection you crave. you try to do your best, to do everything asked and expected of you, not to disappoint the only parent you have and youre dependent on, to be a good kid deserving of love and when you slip up youre in shambles. there was a time i did a tiny mistake by accident and my father said to me in the coldest voice "you broke my trust" and i remember so vividly how it broke me, how i cried until i got sick. i was physically abused before and none of it hurt me more than this. it still gets to me after all those years. emotional manipulation is cruel

what im trying to say is, she came in a time of need. taken as a savior while it just is one abuser swapped out with another. like my adoptive father having me dependent, giving me love i never received and being everything i wanted, making me believe hes everything i need, a common thing abusers do. wanting to do everything youre asked of and do it good, the fear of disappointing and being punished, believing you deserved it bc its your fault and treating your abuser like a savior, being conditioned. this is whats happening.

now, arle genuinely loves and protects her children; its very clear that the life of the children matter to her the most (look at childes line and freminet/lynette etc) - she was one of them too after all. so, its possible to love and still do these. moral greyness etcetc

anyway idk if its understandable or if i can explain it in proper words while maintaining a good distance so ill add the voicelines of the siblings heavily implying this, and also a tweet adressing this that brings it to proper words, better than i can say

tweet here bc tmblr doesnt insert the link properly

[24kvlaks]

Restless nights

TW: Smut, Size K!nk, F! Reader, 0ral, Anal,

(Black female reader X black Adam!)

“Adam?” She called out for him after a long day out with her friends. Silence, she had texted him that she hadn’t had a very welcoming day.

They had left her out, well that’s how she felt.

“Adam?” She coed once again, and wanting the comfort of his presence near her.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw her handsome lovely husband. Quietly he touched her shoulder, automatically he heard her heart calm itself and sooth.

“Adam.” She spoke. Placing her hand on top of his. A small smile on her face. Only to turn around and realize what laid upon his face wasn’t very pleasant.

Though, to her it wasn’t that much of a big deal. That was always how he looked, no matter how he felt, he never expressed it outwardly.

“You don’t look as you normally do, what’s the matter?”

His heart skipped a beat, though usually his face had flat unnoticeable changes, she noticed.

“Nothing.” He stated.

Walking away though honestly he had crippling things on his mind, he watched her pout in response of him not communicating with her. And God did he feel guilty, he just didn’t want to trust again, he didn’t want to get hurt like last time he put his trust in an ordinary human.

“Adam, sit.”

She demanded, his eyebrows raised at the sudden change of tone. Though his sweetheart was never like this so simply yet reluctantly he obeyed.

“Listen to me Adam, I know. I know it’s hard to trust someone, and I won’t say that I can relate on your level of experience because to each its own. But I love you, my God Adam I married you! And even though you don’t trust me, I just want you to know it’s okay. It’s okay to find it a hassle at first, to find it hard. But listen carefully. You can trust me, I will never do harm to your heart. I love you Adam, and hopefully you’ll come around to talking to me more. To communicating, to expressing yourself. Goodnight Adam.”

She walked away from him, though he couldn’t help but feel some type of way about it, he could hear her heart pat in a beat that was different from when he appeared,

More saddened, more disappointed, yet still filled with patience and care.

Before she got out of arms reach he clasped her hand, her soft doughy looking eyes eyed him up and down, curiosity.

Her heart started to beat, as fast as he ever heard it.

“I love you too.”

His voice was stern, eyeing the fact that her hand looked so small in his. Her body petite and gentle. Needed to be held with care, yet here he was.

She jumped, she hugged him, she kissed his face, sitting in his lap she kissed his lips.

God, she drove him insane. Her tiny chubby thighs coating his, her soft chocolate skin shining in the moon light.

His hands placed themselves gently onto her waist, nails digging into her waist line.

He smashed his lips back into hers, forcing his tongue through her plump lips. He was coming for it all. An indescribable hunger.

Quickly, and carefully. He walked towards the bedroom, not wanting her to get a headache from unnatural speed.

Placing her on top of the bed spreads, lightly placing her down. A quick nod of affirmation before taking off her shirt, ripping it in two.

A small look of admiration, how beautiful she looked spread out, thighs apart, with wetness leaking through. Her stomach folds covered with the marks of his nails.

Her chest was laid out in front him, he didn’t know how to react, of course they had sex on their honeymoon. But never with such harsh love.

“Are you sure Adam?”

God he made himself look like a fool, why would such a tiny woman have to make sure he was okay. He was practically a god. And she took his urges into consideration.

He pulled out his cock, she was a like dwarf to him she was so much shorter than him. His cock looked so monstrous near her small cunt.

Aligning himself, obviously since she was a grown woman she hadn’t been a virgin. Yet still, he had to be cautious not to literally split her in halves, after all these years they haven’t had sex.

He pushed slowly, hearing her gasp and heart race, listening closely to the sound of her cunt tearing.

He pushed again, listening to her cry. He smiled, for the first time in two years, he smiled.

Watching her cunt leak around him, he pushed harder, she couldn’t handle it. But this is what she wanted, this is what she deserves for being such a good girl.

“Adam.”

She coed, crying and her tits bouncing as he thrusted harder. He had to slow down as he heard her tear once again.

“Yeah baby?”

She became flustered and so did he. It just slipped out as his cock slipped in.

She tried to push him away, trying to be released so she wouldn’t cum all over him. Yet he kept her in place watching little squirts of cum coat him.

A chuckle and a smirk, “such a good girl.”

He flipped her over, and she was so plump and tiny. He just wanted to fuck her dead.

“Fuck.”

He growled low into her ear, obviously he knew he began to get overstimulated. The way she’d squirt, and how her tits flopped around.

“Adam, enough!.”

He didn’t stop, he couldn’t. He wanted to fuck the shit out of her, too show her that he cares, that he’ll change.

“I can’t hmmpfh handle it!”

She clawed on his back as he pressed her legs up towards her chest giving her easier access to her cunt.

Thrusting in and out her pussy, her warmth coating him as she became all full and mushy inside.

“I’m almost done.”

He chuckled, grabbing her thighs and slamming himself into her cunt, making her scream and roll her eyes back. She dug her nails into his skin.

“Adam, fuck, oh fuck, help Adam.”

She couldn’t handle it, she started whimpering as the heat of his nutt coated her insides.

“It’s okay, it’s all over.”

He pulled his cock out. Watching his tip leave her cunt as her pussy dripped.

He turned around to talk to her, to communicate but his sweetheart had passed out.

He patted her thigh as he went up to grab a wash cloth and towel, running a hot bubble bath as he placed her body in.

Cleaning and scrubbing the nutt off, and a little blood from the stretches of how he ripped her.

Reminiscing of how huge his cock was stretching her little hole.

Poor baby. He thought

[psychewritesbs]

Been reading your opinions on the boy of all time megumi and can I just say firstly, thank you for being so good w words BC man you get his character so well and you're so good at getting into all the little details abt him that I can never properly describe to ppl, Like, the whole breaks the trope while following the trope thing?? YOU GOT THAT ALL SO CORRECT THATS EXACTLY IT IT'S ONE OF THE REASONS I LOVE HIS CHARACTER SM BC EVEN JUST RIGHT OFF THE BAT HE BREAKS THE USUAL STOIC BROODING CHARACTER TROPE(THE trope) BY ACTUALLY CONSTANTLY SHOWING although subtly THAT HE DOESNT HATE EVERYONE?? im getting way off track already i actually popped in here to just ask abt how you think the whole sukuna possessing megumi thing will all turn out?? I honestly feel like slapping myself for not seeing it coming tbh like they talked about the head of the six eyes and ten shadows battling it out to the death before and sukuna kept on hyping up megumi like they were so obviously setting that up there and I just. Denied. But I'm just asking BC personally I think that it would really show the final steps of growth for megumi's character if he is actually able to surprise sukuna, even for a little, and come back from the depths of where ever tf he is rn bc yk his whole issue w/ self worth and what he believes he's capable of and I just wanted to know what you think the best outcome for his character would be? Sorry this is such a mess I just have so many thoughts zooming around my brain and I'm trying to...make them make sense...

ITS THE MEGUMI LOVE!!!! Yessssss. Thank you for sending me Megumi love! I love getting Megumi love 🫶🏼.

Man, Megumi is just such a good character. Truly one of Gege's best. Everything he's done with him from how his character is based on the trope while also subverting the trope, to his backstory and his growth arc and how it's been executed... It's poetic justice.

I love Megumi so much, and any time I see someone hate on Megumi for really shallow or toxic reasons I just lose all faith in humanity. It's one thing to not care for him as a character and quite another to dislike him for being a "disappointing deuteragonist" because he's "weak", "hasn't had character development", and "did not master 10 Shadows"..................................................

Bruh...

ANYWAYS 😂 you see... this is the thing... I am trying really hard not to speculate about what might happen regarding Sukuna WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY I'M GOING TO SPECULATE BECAUSE I LOVE SUKUNA BUT FUCK SUKUNA!

ehem. More of me not being normal about Megumi under the cut.

Ok in all seriousness... with chapter 230 and how Sukuna forced Megumi to take the brunt hit of Unlimited Void, something shifted in me.

For some time I've been reluctant to make any predictions about Megumi coming out alive because I don't want to have preconceived expectations coloring my weekly reading experience, but mostly because, like Megumi, I have a tendency to bunt instead of swinging for the fence so as to not experience disappointment. Read this to mean I don't want to get my hopes up about Megumi surviving.

That is not to mention that I took Sukuna possessing Megumi's body personal. idk, something about seeing Megumi lose his agency felt both so wrong and yet so right on a metaphorical level. Wrong because DAMN YOU SUKUNA GO BACK TO YOUR BODY! and right because... as you said, Megumi had it coming both from a narrative and psychological perspective.

From then on, we just saw him sink deeper and deeper into learned helplessness and despair, culminating on this beautiful image of him in the fetal position.

Truly a reversal of ego back into the metaphorical mother (the unconscious) as though he was in the birth canal waiting for rebirth. And come to think of it, in the Japanese fandom, one of the more popular theories revolved around "birth" or something like that.

So with ch. 230, my hope for Megumi is renewed somehow. A lot of people think he's done for, especially after UV. But I'm on camp #this is going to backfire badly on both Gojo and Sukuna... or at least I hope it does.

So....

I'm just asking BC personally I think that it would really show the final steps of growth for megumi's character if he is actually able to surprise sukuna, even for a little

EXACTLY! And see, this is the thing, I don't want to see Megumi be saved by anyone other than himself. If Megumi is saved by others, then he didn't learn his lesson.

Basically, Megumi has taken Tsumiki's place as the Sleeping Beauty that is in need of rescuing. He's become a passive agent in his own life, which is exactly what gave Sukuna an opening.

If Gojo or Yuji, or anyone for that matter, comes in and saves Megumi without Megumi putting up a fight, then this whole growth process is metaphorically and literally aborted.

Like you, I personally think that this period could be a metaphorical gestational period for Megumi and I wonder if he's going to reach a tipping point where the anger he feels is stronger than the learned helplessness or something like that.

I just wanted to know what you think the best outcome for his character would be?

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT YES. Sukuna might be my other fave, but I am looking forward to either Megumi giving him a hard time or straight up beating the crap out of him.

Megumi has earned that privilege.

Right now, I am wondering how UV has affected Megumi's brain and what that will mean for his behavior. My hc is that his negative self-image is partly due to "reason". In other words, reason = his sense of self as the story he tells himself about himself.

But Megumi levels up because of imagination. Now that he's been hit by UV (I understand it's been 5 times?), how has being flooded with infinity affected the left (reason or logic, analytical) hemisphere of his brain?

Another idea I've been keeping quiet about is that part of the rebirth process involves moving through hell and up into heaven (a la Dante's Divine Comedy as a metaphor for a process of initiation or enlightenment). Megumi right now is sinking in hell as he comes face to face with inner evil.

So can we expect him to come back up? Will Beatrice make a cameo? I'm looking forward to whatever the cursed cat is cooking.

I just have so many thoughts zooming around my brain and I'm trying to...make them make sense...

ahaha, same tho.

Hey thanks again for the Megumi love, the kind comments, and for stopping by! Here's to hoping Gege does bring our boy back 🙌.

[earlgreytea68]

The Good Things Festival - Sydney

Dear EGT, do you mind if I share with you my disappointing FOB experience? None of my friends or family are in the fandom as I am, and I just want to tell someone who will be able to understand my grief.

I am in Australia, living near Brisbane, and when I heard that they were coming here I was ecstatic and eager to go to the Good Things Festival. I didn’t manage to get a Brisbane ticket before they were all sold out, but decided to make a weekend of it and bought a ticket to the Sydney festival, and train tickets down and back, with a couple of days accommodation in between. The train trips were 12 and 14 hours, respectively, which I personally was looking forward to, as I have two young children and the idea of two entire days in which no one could even get in touch with me via phone was BLISS.

I reached the concert venue (which was a fenced-off section of a huge and beautiful park with lots of trees) about an hour and a half before their set, enough time to decide me that none of the other bands there are anywhere near their league in performance or composition.

They came on after playing ‘We didn’t start the fire’ and ‘The Pink Seashell’ on the screen, and they were great. I was impressed with my fellow concert-goers that lots of them seemed to know the words to at least the first couple of verses of ‘We didn’t start the fire’, and most shouted out the chorus. They played ‘Love from the other side’, ‘Phoenix’, ‘Sugar’, and were most of the way through ‘Um Thurman’, when Pete stopped the music and announced that a storm was on its way, and they were being taken off stage. He hoped that they would be able to come back on.

One of the officials then told us more - the storm coming within the hour would feature thunder, lightning, heavy rain and possibly hail, and we would all have to vacate the park. Which made sense, for both the people and the equipment, but put paid to any hope of resuming the set – by the time we had all left and the storm had finished, it would be past time for the end of the festival, not to mention the logistics of getting everyone back in again. So we all left. Getting out of the park and back to my hotel was a saga in itself (all I can say is that I am glad as always that I had something to read, and that I was soaking wet when I did arrive back), but this submission is already much too long.

We got some pyrotechnics (which was brave of them given how the sky was looking) and some of the guitar chicken game between Patrick and Joe and of course their wonderful live performance, but it was so short. I can’t even get into the larger disappointment of missing all the set with the banter and the piano solo, not to mention the cover of ‘Beds are Burning’, which I would have been so excited to see, because it is still too painful. But the smaller disappointment for me, EGT, which is what I could handle focussing on, was that they didn’t get a chance to talk to us, which is partly what for me would have set the live performance apart from a group watching a recorded concert together. We didn’t get a greeting reflecting the crowd that was gathered there in that place for that time only, or any commentary on what it was like to be there, and I am so dejected about that. I know this is definitely a first-world disappointment and I had a worthwhile weekend anyway (three nights in a bed with no one waking me, HOORAY), but I am sad when I look at your website at present, and see pictures and clips from sets in Melbourne.

***

I am SO SORRY and I appreciate very much getting this submission and please know that I completely understand how disappointed you are. I had one of the canceled HMT shows, which you may or may not remember, and I totally understand that your disappointment is probably much greater given how relatively rarer it is for them to go to Australia vs. being fairly near me in the U.S. but I also totally understand some level of your disappointment. :-( The worst is feeling like they don’t care, but I think they did and they were upset it went down the way it did. They obviously can’t ever make it totally right -- you had a whole weekend that you were looking forward to that didn’t really happen the way you wanted and it’s so unfair that it happened to you and not the rest of us and I’m so sorry.

I’m glad you got some silver linings out of the weekend, and don’t be too hard on yourself, the disappointment is real when you’ve been looking so forward to something and it gets taken away and you don’t have a real replacement for it, and it’s worse if you make yourself feel guilty for feeling upset because obviously other people have much bigger disappointments, but that’s not how emotions work, alas. Be kind to yourself. ::hugs::

[izacore]

trust me when I say the majority of fans are disappointed if not that tired af this time. yeah you might see some ppl coddling him on twitter but that is a small minority. and those who are not expressing on twitter are letting it out in gcs. Like the fans who have been forever are tiredddd. And that's saying something since he has no new fans this era and most of them are here since 1d. so yeah happy faith in the future with the same old team louis.

Good. This is going to be a stream of conciousness so bear with me, but recently I've been wondering if Louis or lthq aren't a bit disappointed with the fanbase so they stopped nurturing it so much? I mean, I am pretty certain that they hoped for more with FITF release and the fitf tour, considering what kind of venues they booked and how many dates they put out. And imo, if all this happened in 2020/2021 the fanbase would be more than enough to sold everything out and keep the album on top of the charts for longer. I think that maybe they saw the fanbase growth, saw the numbers the livestream pulled and then just took it for granted and thought it's always going to be like that and that fans are going to stay through everything. Unfortunately tho I feel like lthq and tbh Louis too don't really know this fanbase, its dynamic, how it operates and why people wanted to follow and support Louis in the first place so it's hard for them to work out a strategy. I mean, you won't tell me that someone business savvy would recommend pushing with the Freddie stuff that turned off A FIFTH of his 2020 fanbase off if we go off of his twitter engagement. He says that we need him and he needs us and I don't know if it's true in its entirety anymore... I mean he does need us but do we need him? What content is his putting out there for us to enjoy. When we look at the doc alone it's stunts and struggles of a straight laddy lad devoted dad. I'm nkt sure that people necessarily need this person. At least personally the reason why I fell in love with him as an artist and as a person was cause he seemed such an inspiring, fearless, bold and resillent personality and I could believe in him and his fight. This is who I need. Because what exactly is he now against or what is he fighting for? Do lthq and Louis even know why fans feel such a strong connection to him? Why they want to support him? Cause in my opinion it feels like they have they idea of the fanbase completely wrong and I think they kinda proved it with the doc where they shows passion as camping and stalking completely writing off any other parts of his amazing fanbase. What it shows to me is that they only have a surface level knowledge about Louis' fandom and like with everything, the bare minimum is their comfort zone. And now you have this thing with this cancelation, where he didn't even mention what exactly he cancels and who exactly is affected as if hey let's pretend it was all a dream. And comparing it to him writing a lengthy explanation for when they had to postpone the signings for the fans in the UK.... I guess it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I could go on and on and on about Louis' situation but I think I can bring it all down to 3 main points:

1. As long as Louis and lthq don't figure out, that it wasn't the extra laddy lad Louis who sold out the first tour and who people followed back then, nothing will change.

2. Louis and lthq have to stop wanting to be an indie artist with mainstream numbers.

3. Bare minimum won't fly forever. You base your image on your connection with fans and they always show up for you, but when was the last time you showed up for them, when you went the extra mile for the fan experience? If you want the way you treat your fans to be your main thing, then I'm sorry but you could learn a lot from people like Lewis Capaldi when it comes to nurturing and connecting with the fans.

[fiercynn]

Hey do you have any poetry you can suggest because I saw your response to that OP, I’d love some stuff to read!

so i started responding to another similar ask by @unitedstates0fdakota but i accidentally posted it when it was incomplete so i decided to continue here! check out that post for the first two recs, george abraham's birthright and romeo oriogun's sacrament of bodies

more than organs, kay ulanday barrett

kay ulanday barrett is a poet, performer, and educator, navigating life as a disabled filipinx-amerikan transgnder queer in the u.s. with struggle, resistance, and laughter. pamela sneed, one of the reviewers quoted on the back of more than organs, describes the collection as about “hunger that is physical, spiritual, and queer”, and i think hunger is an excellent way to put it. i love how the pieces in this collection oscillate between visceral and playful – there’s a poem called “pain, an epistle” but also one called “actually, jenny schecter wasn’t the worst”.

you googled “authentic” / & now are seated next to me. / as I speed walk you to the cart / aunty gives me the last dish / gets the idea that I’ve waited too long / for something to just taste right. / I wish for a dumpling stuff / of bullet skins to be the shrapnel / in every white man’s throat. / go ahead / say the word oriental / at my table / one more time. —  “I just want dimsum undisturbed by wypipo”

a theory of birds, zaina alsous

zaina alsous is a prison abolitionist, a daughter of the palestinian diaspora, and a movement worker in south florida. the blurb for a theory of birds describes it as “putting ecological conservation in conversation with arab racial formation, state vernacular with the chatter of birds”, and as someone who wanted to be an ornithologist as a child and now works in climate policy, it feels like she wrote this to speak to my soul.

Inside the dodo bird is a forest, Inside the forest a peach analog, Inside the peach analog a woman, Inside the woman a lake of funerals, disappointed male lovers, scientists, Inside the lake a volcano of whale songs, Inside the volcano a language of naming, Inside the language an algorithm for de-extinction, Inside the algorithm blued dynamite to dissolve the colony’s Sun, twinkle twinkle, I didn’t mean to fall in love with failure, its molting rapture, I didn’t mean to name myself from a necklace of silent vowels, I didn’t go looking from for the bird, I entered through the empty cage, hips first —  “Bird Prelude”

boy with thorn, rickey laurentiis

rickey laurentiis is a poet who was raised in new orleans, louisiana, to study light. this is true for a lot of poetry imo, but every piece in boy with thorn requires reading at least twice in a row, because laurentiis’s use of language is so deft and stuffed with meaning that i needed to experience it from different angles. the description for the collection tells us “in a landscape at once the brutal american south as it is the brutal mind, boy with thorn interrogates the genesis of all poetic creation—the imagination itself, questioning what role it plays in both our fascinations with and repulsion from a national history of racial and sexual violence”.

Therefore, my head was kingless. I was a head alone, moaning in a wet black field. I was like any of those deserter slaves whose graves are just the pikes raised for their heads, reshackled, blue and plain as fear. All night I whistled at a sky that mocked me, that fluently changed its grammar as if to match desire in my eye. My freedom is possible, it said. —  “Conditions for a Southern Gothic”

eye level, jenny xie

this is kind of cheating because i first read eye level when it came out in 2017, but i recently reread it so i feel like it counts! jenny xie was born in anhui province, china, and now lives in the united states. eye level travels with xie from phnom penh to corfu to hanoi to new york city, and her descriptions piercing, sensual, and bottomless.

Sunday, awake with this headache. I pull apart the evening with a fork. White clot behind the eyes. Someone once told me, before and after is just another false binary. The warmed-over bones of January. I had no passport. Beneath the stove, two mice made a paradise out of a button of peanut butter. Suffering operates by its own logic. Its gropics and reversals. Ample, in ways that are exquisite. And how it leaves —not unlike how it arrives, without clear notice. —  “Zuihitsu”

i also post about english-language palestinian poetry (both written in english and in translation) in my #palestinian poets series, each of which features poems you can find online!

[were-michael]

Uncle

Henry Emily stared at his old friend's home. The Afton household looked dull, cold, reflecting the tragedy that befell the residents that once lived inside.

Police tape flowed gently in the light breeze. They had abandoned the investigation. Why? Henry was still fighting for that answer

The man found the door to the home unlocked, revealing the abandoned family home. Everything had been left. Like nothing had been touched.

Maybe something here could give some closure to what happened to his friend, his family and maybe even Henry's own daughter. He hated the thought but all signs pointed to William being the killer.

Henry rummaged through old cupboards, bedrooms and filing cabinets

Nothing.

That left the basement. Michael had told him William vanished in there a lot. Evan added to that, stating he heard weird noises at night from the basement

William's workshop.

The man had always claimed to have one but never let Henry see it. It worried Henry but he respected his business partner's privacy

Tense with anxiety, Henry slowly pushed open the door to the basement. The dark staircase greeting him.

The man slowly descended into the basement. He was greeted with a sight that was the complete opposite of the upper half of the house.

The place had been trashed. Paper had been made into a carpet as it sprawled over the cold, blood stained floor.

That was another thing. There was dry blood. Stained over the floor, desk and what looked liked a ruined chair

What had William been doing here?

Henry crouched down to the paper cover floor and picked up one of the loose sheets.

Scribbled notes had been written on it. Rants about something called Remnant and the diner.

It froze Henry to his core. Had the business he and William worked so hard for just a lab experiment?

He rummaged through the desk's drawers finding mainly scrap metal and random tools. An odd mess for such an organised man.

Then his hand hit something. Paper, it felt like. A stack of it. A file.

Henry pulled it out and was greeted with the word "Failed" in bold red pen.

Yet up in the corner it stated RE-001 BR

Some sort of test?

Henry placed it on the table and opened it wide. He read the first page. William was going on some rant about eternal life and how he could discover it.

Then the next page went on about animals and their Remnant, a substance William had apparently discovered. One someone could collect after the death of something living.

Then there was the diary entry

October 25th 1983

I have successfully gained some Remnant.

I harvested the substance from a bear cub that had given its life to my research. I am one step closer to my success thanks to the animal.

Now, to get the subject in place.

Henry's confusion only grew. William killed a cub before all of this and for what? Some substance he believed would make him Immortal.

Afton had always been strange but this was taking it to a new level. Henry's friend, business partner, was insane

He flipped the page.

October 27th 1983

Remnant Experiment 1. Bear Experiment.

Subject was reluctant to help. He's always been like that. Gets it from his father. Stubbornness.

He fought back but I was able to get the Remnant in place. His body accepted it nicely at first, healing anything it could.

Then the change began. He began to shift into a bear-human hybrid. It was interesting to say the least but not the result I wanted.

Do not use animal Remnant again. Michael was bound to be a disappointment anyway.

Michael? William's own son? The man Experimented on his own son?!

Henry could feel his blood boil. Not only had William potentially killed people but he Experimented on his son like he was some form of lab rat.

That's when Henry heard a noise behind him. A clang of metal.

A snarl of an animal was heard after.

The man turned to see a brown bear huddled into the corner. Shredded clothing, leftover food and a blanket lay by its paws.

It looked scared. A chain had been tied around it.

Henry could believe what he was seeing. It was exactly how William described. A Bear-human hybrid.

"Michael?" Henry called out to the creature.

The bear's ear twitched as it cried out.

"Jesus Christ" Henry gasped. "What did he do to you?"

The bear or Michael rather, sniffed the air and cried when he smelt something new. Henry couldn't imagine how long he was down here

"It's ok, Mike. It's me" Henry slowly approached the boy. "It's Henry"

Michael slowly approached and sniffed Henry's hand, crying more when he realised who it was.

"It's ok, Michael. Let's get you out of here" Henry spoke, moving to the chain. Michael carefully watched him as he unwrapped the chain around his leg.

As soon as the chain left, Michael leaned down and began licking his back leg much like how a dog would.

"There we go, Mike" Henry said softly.

Michael then let out a loud yell, making the man jump back.

Horrifyingly, the bear began morphing back into the boy. His bones and body parts cracking and reshaping.

There, laying in front of Henry, was a scared bare Michael Afton.

"Holy shit" Henry gasped. He quickly took off his long coat and wrapped it around the teen.

Michael looked up at Henry, tears staining his eyes.

"It hurts" Michael began. "It hurts so much, Uncle Henry"

His voice was harsh, dry, and painful. He sobbed.

"I just want it to stop" Michael cried. "Why me? Why did he do this to me?"

Henry pulled the teen into his arms and was quick to console him.

"You're ok, Michael. I've got you. You're safe now, ok? Ill take you home and I'll watch over you" Henry spoke. "Is that alright?"

Michael nodded almost instantly.

"Come on then. Let's get you home"

[violentviolette]

Honestly have no idea if this is a narc crash or bpd splitting episode, but when someone implies I'm not good enough or accidentally rejects me. Or doesn't fit my expectations or standards or whatever, I often just get so enraged and disappointed in myself. Then I get upset with them. I feel like, I should be getting what I want and what I need. I need them to see me for who I am, and adore me and respect me and see my worth. But when I just... struggle with my own self-esteem, I just... feel so awful. I just dissociate, I lose my appetite, I get angry easily, and my brain won't shut up about how this person rejected ME. How they don't like ME. That I'm *flawed*. That I'm worthless. I might get paranoid that they're talking about me behind my back, using info against me, or they may abandon me. I begin to start thinking I'm superior to them in every way, shape, or form. I split on them at one point, obvi. But, I just... I end up going back to unhealthy behaviours (being dysfunctional, not taking care of myself, being too hard on myself, trying to be too perfect all the time, etc.) as a way to cope with these feelings of worthlessness. I just... get extra "I'm envious and jealous of you" feelings, and constantly compare myself with others on small levels like how well they can brush their teeth or how much sleep deprivation can they truly handle? Or how good their imagination is?? Idk. I just... I get so incredibly lonely, frustrated, and push everyone away during these times. I just want nobody around me, but also need someone to validate me and my existence. Bc it's so hard to validate myself, all alone. Idk. What the hell is this experience? And what do I call it?

at it's core, that's a spiral. it sounds very much like a narc crash, but i also dont know much about how bpd splits feel and so i cant comment on how close it is to those, but thats very much how those spirals used to happen for me it's essentially a distress meltdown. so something upsetting happens, but because we never learned how to properly manage and handle distress, there's no framework to catch ourselves and validate ourselves, so we spiral down an abusive self hating rabbit hole. in an effort to claw our way out we attempt the maladaptive coping strategy of devaluing everything around us and everyone that hurt us because we dont know how to build ourselves up, only tear others down. but that doesnt actually work or give us real substantial comfort and so we just continue to wallow in lonely self hating misery and default to another maladaptive coping mechanism which is to purposefully reject the thing we need/want in order to further punish ourselves so if we want validation and connection, we self isolate and reject ppl and push them away. we unconsciously continue to punish and abuse ourselves because we learned during development that when we are rejected its because we fucked up, and if we fucked up we need and deserve to be punished, and so we unconsciously punish ourselves in place of our previous abusers but then our child-brain kicks in and tries to defend us from that punishment by again, devaluing and attacking everyone around us. because we also learned during our abuse that if someone hurts u, then u hurt them back to teach them a lesson. but none of these are real or healthy solutions so they dont make anything better, just worse dbt has a lot of good coping strategies and mechanisms to stop those disordered patterns and redirect behavior towards more healthy and sustainable coping mechanisms and distress tolerance. i'd definitly start there using some of those keywords to search for more reading on it. it's a slow process and it takes a lot of steps and it doesnt feel like its working at first, but if u force urself to practice those techniques over and over eventually they very much do click and u realize ur not hitting those spirals anymore and are able to stop them early on so u dont fall the whole way down

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Turn Your Thinking Upside Down

An article by Pema Chödrön

We base our lives on seeking happiness and avoiding suffering, but the best thing we can do for ourselves is to turn this whole way of thinking upside down.

On a very basic level all beings think that they should be happy. When life becomes difficult or painful, we feel that something has gone wrong. This wouldn’t be a big problem except for the fact that when we feel something’s gone wrong, we’re willing to do anything to feel OK again. Even start a fight.

According to the Buddhist teachings, difficulty is inevitable in human life. For one thing, we cannot escape the reality of death. But there are also the realities of aging, of illness, of not getting what we want, and of getting what we don’t want. These kinds of difficulties are facts of life. Even if you were the Buddha himself, if you were a fully enlightened person, you would experience death, illness, aging, and sorrow at losing what you love. All of these things would happen to you. If you got burned or cut, it would hurt.

But the Buddhist teachings also say that this is not really what causes us misery in our lives. What causes misery is always trying to get away from the facts of life, always trying to avoid pain and seek happiness—this sense of ours that there could be lasting security and happiness available to us if we could only do the right thing.

“Suffering can humble us. Even the most arrogant among us can be softened by the loss of someone dear.”

In this very lifetime we can do ourselves and this planet a great favor and turn this very old way of thinking upside down. As Shantideva, author of Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life, points out, suffering has a great deal to teach us. If we use the opportunity when it arises, suffering will motivate us to look for answers. Many people, including myself, came to the spiritual path because of deep unhappiness. Suffering can also teach us empathy for others who are in the same boat. Furthermore, suffering can humble us. Even the most arrogant among us can be softened by the loss of someone dear.

Yet it is so basic in us to feel that things should go well for us, and that if we start to feel depressed, lonely, or inadequate, there’s been some kind of mistake or we’ve lost it. In reality, when you feel depressed, lonely, betrayed, or any unwanted feelings, this is an important moment on the spiritual path. This is where real transformation can take place.

As long as we’re caught up in always looking for certainty and happiness, rather than honoring the taste and smell and quality of exactly what is happening, as long as we’re always running away from discomfort, we’re going to be caught in a cycle of unhappiness and disappointment, and we will feel weaker and weaker. This way of seeing helps us to develop inner strength.

And what’s especially encouraging is the view that inner strength is available to us at just the moment when we think we’ve hit the bottom, when things are at their worst. Instead of asking ourselves, “How can I find security and happiness?” we could ask ourselves, “Can I touch the center of my pain? Can I sit with suffering, both yours and mine, without trying to make it go away? Can I stay present to the ache of loss or disgrace—disappointment in all its many forms—and let it open me?” This is the trick.

There are various ways to view what happens when we feel threatened. In times of distress—of rage, of frustration, of failure—we can look at how we get hooked and how shenpa escalates. The usual translation of shenpa is “attachment,” but this doesn’t adequately express the full meaning. I think of shenpa as “getting hooked.” Another definition, used by Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche, is the “charge”—the charge behind our thoughts and words and actions, the charge behind “like” and “don’t like.”

It can also be helpful to shift our focus and look at how we put up barriers. In these moments we can observe how we withdraw and become self-absorbed. We become dry, sour, afraid; we crumble, or harden out of fear that more pain is coming. In some old familiar way, we automatically erect a protective shield and our self-centeredness intensifies.

“We can become intimate with just how we hide out, doze off, freeze up. And that intimacy, coming to know these barriers so well, is what begins to dismantle them.”

But this is the very same moment when we could do something different. Right on the spot, through practice, we can get very familiar with the barriers that we put up around our hearts and around our whole being. We can become intimate with just how we hide out, doze off, freeze up. And that intimacy, coming to know these barriers so well, is what begins to dismantle them. Amazingly, when we give them our full attention they start to fall apart.

Ultimately all the practices I have mentioned are simply ways we can go about dissolving these barriers. Whether it’s learning to be present through sitting meditation, acknowledging shenpa, or practicing patience, these are methods for dissolving the protective walls that we automatically put up.

When we’re putting up the barriers and the sense of “me” as separate from “you” gets stronger, right there in the midst of difficulty and pain, the whole thing could turn around simply by not erecting barriers; simply by staying open to the difficulty, to the feelings that you’re going through; simply by not talking to ourselves about what’s happening. That is a revolutionary step. Becoming intimate with pain is the key to changing at the core of our being—staying open to everything we experience, letting the sharpness of difficult times pierce us to the heart, letting these times open us, humble us, and make us wiser and more brave.

Let difficulty transform you. And it will. In my experience, we just need help in learning how not to run away.

If we’re ready to try staying present with our pain, one of the greatest supports we could ever find is to cultivate the warmth and simplicity of bodhichitta. The word bodhichitta has many translations, but probably the most common one is “awakened heart.” The word refers to a longing to wake up from ignorance and delusion in order to help others do the same. Putting our personal awakening in a larger—even planetary—framework makes a significant difference. It gives us a vaster perspective on why we would do this often difficult work.

There are two kinds of bodhichitta: relative and absolute. Relative bodhichitta includes compassion and maitri. Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche translated maitri as “unconditional friendliness with oneself.” This unconditional friendliness means having an unbiased relationship with all the parts of your being. So, in the context of working with pain, this means making an intimate, compassionate heart-relationship with all those parts of ourselves we generally don’t want to touch.

Some people find the teachings I offer helpful because I encourage them to be kind to themselves, but this does not mean pampering our neurosis. The kindness that I learned from my teachers, and that I wish so much to convey to other people, is kindness toward all qualities of our being. The qualities that are the toughest to be kind to are the painful parts, where we feel ashamed, as if we don’t belong, as if we’ve just blown it, when things are falling apart for us. Maitri means sticking with ourselves when we don’t have anything, when we feel like a loser. And it becomes the basis for extending the same unconditional friendliness to others.

If there are whole parts of yourself that you are always running from, that you even feel justified in running from, then you’re going to run from anything that brings you into contact with your feelings of insecurity.

“I’m here to tell you that the path to peace is right there, when you want to get away.”

And have you noticed how often these parts of ourselves get touched? The closer you get to a situation or a person, the more these feelings arise. Often when you’re in a relationship it starts off great, but when it gets intimate and begins to bring out your neurosis, you just want to get out of there.

So I’m here to tell you that the path to peace is right there, when you want to get away. You can cruise through life not letting anything touch you, but if you really want to live fully, if you want to enter into life, enter into genuine relationships with other people, with animals, with the world situation, you’re definitely going to have the experience of feeling provoked, of getting hooked, of shenpa. You’re not just going to feel bliss. The message is that when those feelings emerge, this is not a failure. This is the chance to cultivate maitri, unconditional friendliness toward your perfect and imperfect self.

Relative bodhichitta also includes awakening compassion. One of the meanings of compassion is “suffering with,” being willing to suffer with other people. This means that to the degree you can work with the wholeness of your being—your prejudices, your feelings of failure, your self-pity, your depression, your rage, your addictions—the more you will connect with other people out of that wholeness. And it will be a relationship between equals. You’ll be able to feel the pain of other people as your own pain. And you’ll be able to feel your own pain and know that it’s shared by millions.

Absolute bodhichitta, also known as shunyata, is the open dimension of our being, the completely wide-open heart and mind. Without labels of “you” and “me,” “enemy” and “friend,” absolute bodhichitta is always here. Cultivating absolute bodhichitta means having a relationship with the world that is nonconceptual, that is unprejudiced, having a direct, unedited relationship with reality.

That’s the value of sitting meditation practice. You train in coming back to the unadorned present moment again and again. Whatever thoughts arise in your mind, you regard them with equanimity and you learn to let them dissolve. There is no rejection of the thoughts and emotions that come up; rather, we begin to realize that thoughts and emotions are not as solid as we always take them to be.

It takes bravery to train in unconditional friendliness, it takes bravery to train in “suffering with,” it takes bravery to stay with pain when it arises and not run or erect barriers. It takes bravery to not bite the hook and get swept away. But as we do, the absolute bodhichitta realization, the experience of how open and unfettered our minds really are, begins to dawn on us. As a result of becoming more comfortable with the ups and the downs of our ordinary human life, this realization grows stronger.

“We may still get betrayed, may still be hated. We may still feel confused and sad. What we won’t do is bite the hook.”

We start with taking a close look at our predictable tendency to get hooked, to separate ourselves, to withdraw into ourselves and put up walls. As we become intimate with these tendencies, they gradually become more transparent, and we see that there’s actually space, there is unlimited, accommodating space. This does not mean that then you live in lasting happiness and comfort. That spaciousness includes pain.

We may still get betrayed, may still be hated. We may still feel confused and sad. What we won’t do is bite the hook. Pleasant happens. Unpleasant happens. Neutral happens. What we gradually learn is to not move away from being fully present. We need to train at this very basic level because of the widespread suffering in the world. If we aren’t training inch by inch, one moment at a time, in overcoming our fear of pain, then we’ll be very limited in how much we can help. We’ll be limited in helping ourselves, and limited in helping anybody else. So let’s start with ourselves, just as we are, here and now.

Excerpted from Practicing Peace, by Pema Chödrön. © 2006 Pema Chödrön. Reprinted with permission of Shambhala Publications. Published in Lion's Roar Magazine

[thinkfeelwrite]

FEEDBACK (was the original title for a writing course I once did. Am reposting because I need to start somewhere but Im cringing but would also sort of appreciate feedback)

Feedback is judgement. Feedback is fear. Feedback is Failure. Feedback is shame. Feedback is the paralysis of all hope. It is the execution of excitement about my stupid doomed dreams. Feedback is the death of me.

Examples of excruciating feedback experiences and endurances that prove my point

Having to do a personality assessment test whilst at college. Answered it honestly, although I had no idea who I was back then…so did I really answer it honestly?. The feedback said that I was either a psychopath or a genius. 

Remembering all the OCD type actions I had to do before lesson observations by senior members of staff whilst I was a teacher. Praying the same prayer over and over in the car until I got to the school. “Please don’t make me fail, please don’t make me fail, please don’t make me fail. Amen’ The exhausting and tortuous repetition of actions that if not done would completely mean crushingly negative feedback. No wonder I was so exhausted post assessment as the adrenalin wore off. 

Feedback from the kids I taught. Their feedback can be the worst. You’re not really a proper person to them if they don’t like you, which in their minds translates to ‘I can destroy you with my actions and my words’.  I don’t hold any ill feeling towards those that did destroy me though. It was all my fault. I can still envisage my voice dissipating into the air as I tried to teach some of them. Like making the motion of speech but with no sound. It was when I realised I was becoming partly invisible

Ofsted inspections for someone like me with serious confidence issues. Utterly terrifying

Deciding to leave teaching ten years ago and witnessing the changing feedback from people as the years have worn on. Initial understanding and sympathy breaking down into seeing you as a life loser as you struggle to find something else to do.

Presentations. Having to do a presentation after ‘Brain Boy’ had done his. Brain boy was the cleverest person on my university course.I wonder what he is doing now? Anyhow he did this amazing, astute, confident presentation… and then it was my turn. Even my best friend who was sat next to me said it was actually painful to endure. I was so shy and nervy, I couldn’t breathe and so couldn’t talk. Looking back I can see that I had a sort of panic attack. Someone should have taken me aside. The feedback was…

A few years later I had to do another presentation. God help me I filled my water bottle with gin and drank it whilst waiting to do my presentation. I honestly can’t say how it went. There was a lot of laughter, that’s all I remember but I also recollect that  the tutor was called out just as I started mine. That had to be divine intervention. Im not sure if anyone could see that I was drinking. How drunk was I? This was probably my worst experience. You’ll never meet me so i can tell you about it. Not many people know about it. I’m too ashamed. Someone should have taken me aside

Being told by your successful Asian father that you are a disappointment as you didn’t become a doctor like him but also being told its ok because you have children and they’re a lot of work.

Trying to become an artist and doing quite well and loving it, although NOT making any money. Feedback from Father: Being asked by your father if you are making any money from doing your art. Giving up on the art.

Trying to learn about Ayurveda at a high level, thinking about practising it. Bemusement from father at ‘you and your ayurveda’. Can feel myself withdrawing from my interest in ayurveda.

My own running commentary feedback on my life. My daily feedback: Middle aged. Getting older. Weak minded. Confused. Really confused. Lost opportunities. Missed opportunities. Unable to focus. Unable to work out what i want to do. Not being able to do what I want to do. Heavy thoughts weighing down my whole body like an anchor at the bottom of the ocean. Full of regrets. Living a fantasy life. Escaping to my fantasy life. Stereotypical middle aged person who will soon be old and covered in dust in the corner of the room and in the corner of people lives. Crying. Staring. Loser. Bored with my own negativity. Wondering if my negativity is a safety blanket keeping me still, unheard, unseen. Wearing more makeup to cover up Wondering if there is a magical solution to life misery

I need a cup of tea now. This is awful. I hope you don’t feel awful. Bet you want to walk away and make tea too now. Sorry

[darkestpsi]

when i say that i like both dabi and shouto i dont mean it in the "oh my god they're so hot i wanna fuck them" kinda way or the "lol they both hate their parents just like me fr" way but that i really do understand how its like to grow up around such tough, hard love. to have your entire worth, the level of care and responsiveness you receive in moments you definitely should not be seeking this constant validation but your fucking veggies and milk - all of that being based off just how useful you can be to your parents; being told that the point of your life quite literally is for the fulfilment of thEIR dreams, in THEIR way, under THEIR supervision, yknow?

like, i can literally not even begin to count the many recordings on loop i have of my mums voice in my head telling me to always be better and to do so much more, be so much more - achieve things, great things and live to just please and please and please - for herself, for her dead mother (who probably doesnt even care about half of the shit that i have done since she passed, because dead people cant feel - they cant feel, but somehow their presence still suffocates), for the status and the level of respect itll give both her and my dad (so that they wont ever be referred to as immigrants again) and the amount of money ill eventually get paid thatll somewhat, somehow all go back to them, anyway.

point is, dropping so suddenly from being so loved and praised and shown off when you were younger and tried your hardest to be that bit better to the broken toy you are now, unable to carry out their tasks - demands, even - easily replaced by someone younger, someone so much better than you; worth so much more than you. when they are born.

idk.

i joke alot about how similar my family dynamic is to the todorokis, the distance between me and my siblings now after all it was that we went through together and how im literally doing medicine for my parents so that they can get their doctor, and i can get my peace, but its very truly something ive had no control over my whole entire life. all ive wanted is some damn control. lmao. my mum literally named me after a doctor she saw on tv who was giving a lecture about medicine and i laugh at the fucking irony of it all because god, you dont even realise that this is fucking killing me, ma- but the thing with touya, the parts of him that diverge from my own experiences is the fact that he was able to break free from all of those restraints secured by his family, the goals they set him, the ones he set himself. the guilt and disappointment and oh my god, how could you -why - why would you regret not being able to meet those expectations and him being thrown aside like everything he ever received was so palpable and fleeting because he was a toy, was always a toy to my mum endeavor. he knew he couldnt compete with shouto. shouto the gifted child. the hero. the hate and anger he feels towatds him, idk, it hits so fucking close to home. but i also see so much of myself in the way shouto is so fucking willing to be the good child, the perfect child, who pleases and pleases and pleases; doing everything he is supposed to without retalliation because thats what hes supposed to do and thats what they want him to do and eventually, someday, somewhere he will get his peace as a hero, because he was "born to be the best", born to be a doctor hero - literally both sides of my personality at war oh my god AAAAA

i literally can not help but attach myself to those characters.