#i let my friends bully me into going i need it as exposure therapy for my commitment issues

[sprolden]

going on a date tomorrow (thursday) and I'm genuinely looking forward to friday's planned debrief meeting more than the date itself oh girls it's rough out here

[aita-blorbos]

[OC AITA (yep, same anon from the gas chambers one, highly recommend reading that one first, here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/aita-blorbos/729589462028419072/oc-aita-anon-so-hopefully-no-one-finds-all-those?source=share, also my phone died in the middle of this ask so I'm rewriting it now at 11PM, sorry for any confusing parts, Octonine can explain later)]

Content Warnings: cult mention, internalized ableism and saneism, repressed memories, description of corpses, drugs, less-than-scientific experiments, bullying, self-harm, suicidal ideation, child... "death"? i guess..., oh and also it's a horror story.

AITA for accidentally "killing" a child?

That sounds horrible but let me give some context:

I (adult M), my brother B (also adult M) and my friend P (adult F) are cult survivors and recently we created an orphanage/child therapy clinic after P's Psychology graduation. We wanted to help mentally ill kids like we once were, giving them a safe and supportive space we didn't have.

Since we started this, me and B had problems with some of the children, mostly the ones that that cult taught us were "impure", so I started trying to, y'know, confront that. The problem is, differently from B, my memories of that era were really repressed after our escape years ago, which you can guess it's hard to confront your past and your mentality when you can't remember it.

P suggested that I tried doing therapy with her, but I needed something more immediate, so I got an idea... that could have gone really badly... and I guess it did turn out like this... I went back to the ruins of that cult's "house" and found the hidden backroom in the debris. The sight of the abandoned carbonized corpses of the ones who "ascended" unlocked some of my memories, but that was not what I was searching for.

Then I found it, the "mind powder", the same one we used to access our mind realms, surely that would be a faster way. I brought some of it to our orphanage and made a makeshift "sensory isolator" (pool filled with water and salt) on the basement (no one ever uses it anyways). It was weird going back there again, it was less chaotic than when I was a child, more empty.

I tried this about 3-4 times before anything happened, and then I found something, some balls of light (or seemed to be light, it was bright than the rest of that space) that when touched showed me my memories. I looked through many of them until I found any that I couldn't see, and the more of them I saw, more things started appearing: "shadows" of objects, people and places from the past. Until I found... the "house".

Inside it, there they were, all the memories my brain didn't let me see. After brute-forcing a bit, I found out how to see them and in a few hours, I have come to terms with my past... or at least I believed so.

After this, I told about what I discovered to P, that was horrified, as the results could have been catastrophic, and that I was looking really pale after this constant exposure (I used it every day for a week and this was used once a month max). I said to her that, with some development, this could be a really effective way to help the children we take care of, and she snapped, held me down, and made me promise that I wouldn't ever touch that powder again.

After some months, I started to look less pale, and P ended up rethinking the whole situation, and said she would allow it, as long as the children weren't involved, to which I agreed. A few days later, P's son D (14-15 M) came to me saying that he knew about the powder thing and asked me if he could try it. I denied saying that I promised to his mother I wouldn't do this experiment with the children.

I talked to about it to P, and she called D to talk with her there. She was trying to explain to him why that was dangerous, but it sounded a lot like she was fighting with him, all the while he was looking at me as if I had betrayed him, which I would soon come to understand. She asked why he would ever need to do this and... well...

...how do I say this?...

He lifted his arm, showing lots of scars he had kept hidden, apparently he was having problems with bullying (the verbal and psychological one I think) that lead into him cutting himself... gosh I don't know how to describe any of this right, but I think you got the idea.

So he thought that maybe, by confronting these thoughts and memories "directly", he could be better... somehow. There was a silence for a long while, until P broke down. I... didn't knew what to do, I didn't knew if what he was saying was possible, none of us knew, but he seemed so desperate that eventually I said that we could try it if he wanted to. P was enraged over this, yelling at me about how I dare suggest this in such a vulnerable moment, I argued that I was just trying to help him, and it kept escalating until D ran out of the room crying and went to the basement.

When me and P got there, he was picking the powder and throwing it in the water (which is definitely NOT the way to do it), and when we reached him, it was too late, he was already in his mind realm. Taking him out of the water didn't bring him back, we tried a few things to wake him up but nothing worked, so we waited. After half an hour, he started to whisper some words and phrases like "where", "lost", "i'm scared", "let me go" and "still alive". Slowly, he started talking more, and then he started screaming in terror of something. We panicked, we tried to talk to him, get him out of there, but he just screamed louder and louder until he says "get me outta here!!" and then he stops, and falls down with one last whisper: "thank you". P slowly open his eyes, and we both get mortified when we see it. He was with the same lifeless eyes of the "ascended", which makes me scream and curl into a corner of the room, starting to break down, memories flowing back in.

I... I feel like I'm the villain here. I decided to search for the powder, I used it to "fix myself" quicker, I had the idea of using it to help the children, I told P about what D asked to me forcing him to confess it to his mother, I left all the "equipment" to use it there lying on the basement... I... I killed him... didn't I? It sounds silly to ask it now but, AITA?

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hey. You can call me Story.

TW for religion (Christianity); neglect, lgbt-misia, amatonormativity, ageism, and ableism from family. Mention of ABA "therapy", bullying, disordered eating, sh, and invalidation.

My parents and I have never had the best relationship. They're both toxic parents, and their marriage wasn't exactly functional. They argued, I stayed in my room or outside. I did something "bad" (being a kid) around them, they sent me to my room.

This was all fine until they started putting me in a completely empty room for days at a time. That level of mistreatment only lasted for a couple months, I think, but they continued ignoring me regularly. Often.

I spent most of my life being drug around churches and crowded community functions by my mom. Not because she wanted me around, simply because nobody was available to watch me for her. These were the sort of Christians to preach the whole "love thy neighbor" thing and never practice it. It was... Bad. Constantly being told by "trustworthy" people that your existence is inherently evil is really not fun.

When I turned four everyone I knew started doing the whole "Oh, I can't wait until you have a husband and children!" thing. Since I'd only met two couples that weren't falling apart, I was less than thrilled. Sometimes the very thought caused me to completely break down.

A year or so later I got an autism diagnosis. Almost immediately my mom started the ABA-esque tactics (punishment for stimming, forced eye contact, forced exposure to Bad Sensory Experiences, etc). I spent the rest of my life until just weeks ago constantly masking so she'd think I was "better".

When I started school, a classmate of mine (I'll call them M) began bullying me almost immediately. It went on for years, even continuing when I moved schools.

My life was basically constant mistreatment unless I stayed in my room 24/7, which led to me undereating and later being stuck in a binge/restrict cycle based on others' schedules.

Within the past three years, everything except for the broken bonds and poor eating habits was uprooted. Mom moved in with her best friend, parents got split custody of me and my siblings, I started at yet another new school. With that and the fact that at some point I became hyperaware of everything going on, it all became too much. I started self-harming. I never remember doing it, but I wake up with marks on my arms and implements in my bag semi-regularly.

Not exactly sure why I've opted for talking about it in an anonymous Tumblr blog. Maybe it's the constant "suck it up" and "it's not that bad" comments I always see others get, maybe it's the mistrust of authority figures, maybe a combination of the two. All I really want is to not have to struggle in complete silence. Sorry for taking up your time and energy.

Hi anon,

Please don't apologize, you're using this space exactly as intended. I'm sorry to hear about what you went through.

It sounds like there were a lot of things in your life that made you feel not in control and demonized, which may have been internalized. It's possible that those factors influenced self-harming and disordered eating habits as a way to regain a sense of control, and/or as a display of internalized self-hatred that religion and ABA has imposed on you, as well as other factors.

I hope that you can continue healing from this. Please know that recovery isn't linear and so it's natural to take some backwards steps in the process. I encourage you to look into a therapist if that is an option for you. Therapy can be incredibly effective in undoing the things that these traumas may have taught you. You also deserve the care of a professional who knows what they're doing.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[testudoaubrei-blog]

TL/DR - Catra is a uniquely complex and compelling character who has -so much going on- compared with most characters in any medium. Her character arc is psychologically astute, morally powerful and dramatically compelling, and it pushes the boundaries of the audiences sympathies in ways that are really groundbreaking for a kids show, and her arcs conclusion celebrates love, growth, and the power to change in a way that is all too rare in TV for grown ups.

Content note for mentions of suicidal ideation and self harm.

Well, now that the summary is out of the way, here’s a massive fucking dissertation on why Catra is such a great character.

This is the first of a series of posts outlining things that make She Ra a truly great show, one that stands out even 15 years into a golden age of TV animation for kids. This isn’t going to be a comprehensive account for why the show is great - the real answer is that this show has so many arcs and so many fully realized characters and they are all growing and changing in ways that interact with each other and complement each other so well. But I’m going to highlight some particular standouts, things that this show does better than anything else, things that made me step back and say ‘holy shit they did this in a show pitched at 10 year olds?!’

And so the first of these posts is about Catra. I’ve never seen a character in a kids TV show like Catra before. Depending on the season, she’s an anti-villain, an outright villain and an anti-hero and then, in the end, a hero. Being glib, I describe her in villain mode as a Saturday morning cartoon Supervillain as written by like, Dostoevsky. She’s got the trappings of classic villain camp - long speeches, sneering, over-complicated plans, she’s oddly ineffectual at times etc/ Yet all of this is underlaid and justified by something much deeper - her feelings of rejection, her desire to lash out at everyone around her, at her self-hatred and hatred of everyone and everything else (at least by Season 4. Good God.) And her actions are as dark as her motivations - she nearly destroys reality out of spite, betrays literally everyone who cares about her (often multiple times) and isolates herself so completely that in the season 4 finale she is a solitary, suicidal wreck of a person. Hell, in her last fight with Hordak, I was definitely rooting for Hordak (to say nothing of Glimmer, who is a pretty impressive antiheroine, like if Sparkles had just blasted her into glittery oblivion would we have held it against her?).

Let's start by discussing trauma. It comes up a lot with Catra for obvious and good reasons. But I almost feel like that word is insufficient for what's going on with Catra, or at least, we shouldn't stop with it (I know there are terms like complex trauma, but rather than simply using those I want to explain the difference between Catra’s consistent abuse and a single traumatic event). To use another example from a different show, Korra was also traumatized in season 4. But she was traumatized by a series of an events when she was a young adult. She had something horrible happen to her, and it fucked her up, and then she had exposure therapy with Zaheer and at least starts to get better. Catra...Catra is much more consistently abused. It's not just that shadow weaver traumatized her with the various acts of torture, but that Shadow Weaver taught Catra both an explicit worldview and a series of coping mechanisms that she struggles with through young adulthood. First, Shadow Weaver trained Catra to seek her approval. This is something she is particularly vulnerable to with Shadow Weaver, but also what she does with Hordak and to a extent Double Trouble. Catra's instinct when people mistreat her or show that they aren't trustworthy is to invest further in the relationship, until the breaking point. By contrast, when people treat her well Catra lashes out or takes them for granted. This is uh…a dymamic I am acquainted with among people who have been abused as kids, people whom I love. It is pretty rough.

She also developed a desire to prove herself. This starts off being tied to her drive for approval, but combined with her competitive streak (which is expressed in both healthy and unhealthy ways with Adora) it turns into a desire to beat Shadow Weaver and then Hordak at their own game.

At the same time, Catra learned by always being blamed for everything to evade and deny responsibility, no matter what. I think this form of self reassurance is tied to her self doubt (I think at some level she does think she is worthless) and her self hatred. It is also enabled by Adora’s martyr complex and willingness even act as Catra’s punching bag (as we see in the flashback in Corridors). This is a dynamic that actually repeats in an even worse fashion with Scorpia. Far from being arrogant, her constant evasions, put downs against others and preening speeches sound like the words of a woman who is trying to convince herself most of all. This tendency borders on narcissistic self delusion by season 3-4, which she begins recounting her version of events and possibly believing it even when it is obviously false, and everyone knows it.

When it comes to worldviews, Shadow Weaver taught Catra that love is about control and manipulation. We see this in seasons 1-3 where she congratulates herself for manipulating Adora when all she has done is take advantage of Adora's lingering love for her. Meanwhile, she’s learned that power is her only protection, and that the only way to stay on top is to abuse those beneath her.

The final kind of static tendency in Catra is her identity in the horde and her view of herself as one of the bad guys. This is something she rarely articulates but underlies much of her her decision to stay and not join Adora (at least at first). I think one thing to consider is that even if Catra never believed horde propaganda, it may have made her cynical and unwilling to imagine something better for herself or the world. Another factor is having struggled to belong in the horde for so long, she isn't going to give up now. At first this ties into her desire to win the approval of shadow weaver and Hordak, then it comes from her desire to prove herself better than them. Another factor is her self hatred. She sees herself as someone who hurts people, perhaps as a monster. She sees herself as a bad guy and so team evil is her side.

So yeah, our girl is kinda fucked up.

And yet Catra is never reduced to the sum of her traumas and bad habits. At every step of the way she is shown as a moral agent. She is shaped by shadow Weaver's abuse but she remains aware of and responsible for her actions. This is a double edged sword. She is fully responsible for her actions, but also she is never shown as broken by abuse or mental illness. She’s fully responsible, but by the same token is also redeemable, because she still has a choice.

So with that our of the way, let's go to Catra's arc.

I’m not going to recite everything terrible Catra does because I’m still on my first complete rewatch and I honestly find it hard to list it all. It’s a lot. So let’s talk about her shifting motivations. Early on, we see her desire for approval and recognition motivating her in ways that are so easy to sympathize with - she’s been told she’s worthless for years, and she wants to be worth something. We see how much she’s been scarred by Shadow Weavers abuse and by the ruthlessness and callousness of the Horde, and can sympathize with her desire to survive and advance since her own position is so untenable. We also see how, at first, she wants to be reunited with Adora. Her first huge turn into much darker territory is Promises, when she tries to kill Adora in order to permanently sever her connection with her own life and eliminate a possible rival for advancement (should Adora ever return). She’s told herself that she doesn’t want Adora back, and at least partly means it. Yet we still show her care for Scorpia and Entrapta and even Shadow Weaver in Season 2. It’s when Catra realizes that Shadow Weaver has chosen Adora over her once again that she takes her darkest turn. It’s not just that she destroys reality out of spite, it’s that she rejects her chance for a better and happier life, betrays every friend she has and focuses single-mindedly on hurting Adora (and arguably herself) and then on surviving when her attempt fails. Then Catra spends an entire season both fully inhabiting her role as a villain (and not a sympathetic one - really only our history with her leaves us sympathetic) and being utterly self-destructive and miserable. At the end, as mentioned, she’s a broken, suicidal wreck who has destroyed everything she’s strived for. If this was an HBO drama, we’d roll credits here and she’d go down as another self-destructive antihero. It would perhaps be too much to call her ‘Walter White as a catgirl’, but still. Of course, her story doesn’t end there.

Something that is incredibly dark that is happening in step with this is Catra’s hardening of herself, indeed, her dehumanization of herself. We see her struggle with her natural compassion, her kindness, her need for connection, her desire for happiness, and we see her ignore it all, stamp it down and nearly snuff it out. This is a huge factor in her descent into becoming a real villain (no ‘anti’ qualifiers needed). Every step of her descent is a struggle for Catra - not going with Adora in the second part of ‘The Sword’, trying to kill Adora in ‘Promise’, going back to the Horde, betraying Entrapta, lying about Entrapta, threatening Scorpia, destroying the world - but she always chooses evil. And with every step she becomes more isolated, more callous, and more cruel. Her default reaction becomes not just bravado and mockery and insolence, but threats, bullying and intimidation, until her management style is identical to Hordak’s, and indeed, is quite a bit worse. Catra starts off fighting for Hordak and Shadow Weaver’s approval and struggling to survive, and ends up cackling maniacally at her brutal and murderous conquests. She has very deliberately turned herself into a cruel conqueror, and a tyrant. This self-dehumanization is a huge part of evil in the world, I think, and it’s really powerful to see it so clearly in a kids show.

Meanwhile her insistence on evading all responsibility finally results in a self-serving, self-protective narrative that insulates her from responsibility or self-examination but also cuts her off from reality and other people. It’s always a bit unclear to what extent her various untruths (about Adora leaving her, about Shadow Weaver’s escape and her concealment of it not being her fault, about Entrapta betraying Hordak) are things she believes, lies she is telling to have power over others (mostly Scorpia) or things that she doesn’t quite believe but is trying to convince herself of. It’s probably all of these at various times, and in different degrees for each lie. The end result is that Catra is even more alone, because only she inhabits the safe cocoon of lies she’s built around herself. It also is the key to her and the Horde’s downfall - Catra is so isolated and in such denial that she can’t see how thin her forces are spread, and this crack shows up even in episode 1 of Season 4, with her insistence that the Princess Alliance is in shambles (when, in fact, it’s already rebounding, and proves more resilient than she allows herself to believe, and is led by a woman as ruthless and determined as herself). This part of Catra’s arc brilliantly shows how deception (of yourself and others) can feel protective by keeping shame at bay, but ultimately is destructive and strips someone of so much of the intellectual and moral qualities that we call ‘human.’ It’s also chilling to see since we’ve seen the end game of this mentality play out in US national politics, at the highest level.

I said at the opening that we’ve never seen a sympathetic character like Catra in a kids show. What about Zuko? I would argue that Zuko is never a cruel, or as callous, or as self-destructive as Catra is at her worst. Zuko is motivated by a desire for recognition from his abusive father (much like Catra is initially motivated by desire for recognition from Hordak and Shadow Weaver, and indeed Adora), and perhaps a desire to belong in the Fire Nation. All of this gets wrapped together in his ‘Honor’. He’s a young man with a very weak sense of what he truly believes, instead relying on external guides to what he should do. He’s also incredibly self-involved, and initially indifferent to anyone’s pain but his own and anyone’s needs but his own need to restore his honor. Uncle Iroh is there throughout to push Zuko both to see the needs of others and to become his own person. Zuko’s redemption arc, then, is a twofold quest to recognize other people and to find his own moral center and act from it. This is a pretty powerful coming of age story in that it is about him becoming his own person and throwing off the shackles of his upbringing. Politically, it’s a powerful story of a young man taking responsibility for his own actions in an authoritarian regime and refusing to participate in its imperialism any more and to embrace a new way forward both for himself and his nation. At the same time, in some ways it is easy to sympathize with Zuko because his greatest crimes are those of weakness - he’s not strong enough to stand up to his nation and his family until midway through the last season. Catra though...Catra does what she does, eventually, because she wants to hurt people. She’s cruel, and spiteful, and destructive in ways that are truly scary and which prevent any excuse or mitigation.

Which brings up the other comparison - Azula. But while Azula is (somewhat inconsistently) shown either as a monstrous child sociopath or a traumatized and broken child who can’t help it (and thus, perversely, as not a moral agent but something like a monster), Catra is consistently shown as a moral agent. Catra chooses her own path, every step of the way. She has so many chances to do something else - Adora’s offers to leave together in the two-part series opener, Promises, Scorpia’s suggestion that they dessert the Horde and become desert gang leaders, etc - and until season 5, she turns them all down. While Azula seems destined for evil and madness, with Catra we see a young woman very deliberately walk down the path into unmitigated evil with both eyes open. And then we see it destroy her.

And after she is basically destroyed, we see her build herself back. This process actually starts in Season 4 with the creeping realization that even when she is winning she is miserable and alone. She doesn’t even notice Scorpia is gone for several episodes, then she completely loses it. She spends the entire time when she is at her most triumphant isolated and raging and borderline incoherent, as ineffectual as she accuses Hordak of being. She’s won, and she’s alone, and she’s the most unhappy she has ever been, and I think for the first time she realizes that. And that’s the worst blow to her, even before all the external things come crashing down. She’s already miserable before Double Trouble and Glimmer deal her a triple coup de grace of destroying all her armies*, turning her and Hordak against each other and then Double Trouble’s epic evisceration. By the time Glimmer shows up, Catra is, as mentioned, literally suicidal. But she’s also already begun the process of changing in that she knows that she has a problem (her, and her self/other-destructive tendencies). Moreover, she knows, at some level, that what she really wants isn’t conquest, or to prove herself as the baddest leader of the Horde, but love - and she’s seen how she’s squandered that at every opportunity.

Let’s just pause for a moment to observe how much better Glimmer is at villainous machinations than Catra. In a couple episodes she makes a faustian bargain for unlimited power, kills all her enemies armies, sets her two chief foes at each other’s throats and literally cripples one while rendering the other helpless. And given her ironic non-answer about hurting Catra (‘we’re the good guys, remember?’ and the fact that she’d tried to kill Catra twice before**, she walked into Hordak’s sanctum fully intending to end Catra’s life, one way or another. She does all this through ruthlessness, recklessness and treachery, and she could give like, a TED talk on villainy. Of course it also blows up in her face and is actually way worse than the portal did in Catra’s, endangering the whole universe (I always assumed that the portal only threatened Despondos), dooming Etheria to invasion and all that. Of course, Catra pulled that switch and then fought Adora knowing that the world was ending, while Glimmer was just ignoring warnings from...just about everyone, including Shadow Weaver. So yeah, Glimmer, best kids show antihero since Princess Bubblegum***(unless we’re counting Catra as an antihero, which works for the first half of season 5).

Anyway, at the beginning of Season 5 Catra is adrift. Though some interpretations, like TV tropes, see her as immediately falling back into old habits and casting her lot in with Prime, I see her actions from the end of Season 4 onwards as more ambivalent. She seems to be kind of...going through the motions. She doesn’t have any of the drive or passion in her plotting that she once did, she seems to be maneuvering into Prime’s good graces out of habit. At best she’s back in the survival mode of early season 1, but without the ambition and desire to prove herself that motivated her. Some interpretations put a lot of stock in Prime being someone that can’t be bargained with or appeased, but...I don’t buy it. I take him, to an extent, at his word when he says that he was ‘exalt’ Catra (I am sure it is something awful). Catra actually gets what she wants halfway through “Corridors.” Only it’s not what she wants. She’s done jockeying for advantage, especially in a world where she truly would be alone because all she has is this psychopathic narcissist and his clones for company. She wants connection. She wants to do what is right. She’s suppressed all her humanity (felinitity? Anyway) for years and it’s made her miserable, and now she’s ready to embrace it. At the same time she confronts her own culpability, seeing just how much harm she’s done and admitting it for the first time. Her first lifeline is Glimmer, the only person she can actually talk to, the only other Etherian, the woman whose mother she doomed and who has nearly killed her three times. But Glimmer is also going through her own dark night of the soul - Glimmer and Catra’s character arcs were converging at the same time that Catra’s and Adoras and Glimmer’s and Adora’s were diverging. And they come together on either side of that forcefield, just talking and being people in an environment that is designed to be as dehumanizing as possible. Even this barest lifeline is enough for Catra to hold on to for dear life, and enough to inspire her to not just feel bad about the bad things she’s done, but do something good.

But the first way she does this is a cop out. Her plan, like Shadow Weaver’s in the finale, is to sacrifice/kill herself doing ‘one good thing.’ That way she doesn’t have to figure out how to live with the consequences of her actions, face the possible rejection of the people she loves whom she’s wronged, and do the hard work of building herself back up as a better person. She gets to die a hero rather than live as a villain. That said, unlike Shadow Weaver she does at least get off one apology, and it makes all the difference.

Then Adora fucks Catra’s sacrifice up, in glorious, space operatic, gay AF pulp fiction fashion, by saving the cat. Catra is mind controlled or unconscious for most of this episode, but what she does do is so crucial. When Adora comes for her, she reaches out to her, as soon as she is able. She doesn’t push her away, she takes Adora’s help, and her love, and Adora does the rest in badass fashion. The next few episodes plus the so perfect its canon Don’t Go are my favorite part of Catra’s entire arc.

She nearly falls back into her old habits, at least partly. Now that she has to live with what she’s done rather than just dying for it she just wants to run away again. But when she has to choose between losing Adora all over again and confronting herself and her past, she chooses Adora, and asks her to stay.

Catra then spends the rest of Season 5 slowly easing herself into the very human world of the Princess Alliance - the comaradery, the dedication to others and a cause, the goofiness. I’m going to talk a lot more about her relationship with Adora in my Catradora post, but I do want to highlight three moments.

The first is Catra running away again. This is actually a big change from what she’s done before - she’s not leaving because she’s angry, or bitter, or spiteful, she’s leaving because she doesn’t want to see the woman she loves sacrifice herself yet again (maybe this time for good) after being manipulated by the woman who had abused them both. But then she comes back. And then she confronts her abuser in a way that she has never done before - for the first time in the series, she not only calls Shadow Weaver out but calls her to do the right thing, and doesn’t give up until she does (this is after Adora also calls SW out and cuts her off forever, meaning that her two charges have finally called her on her bullshit and chosen each other over her, more in my Shadow Weaver Rant...and I guess my Catradora rant).

Then, at the end, Catra both stays with Adora through her potentially fatal harnessing of the Heart of Etheria and then her comes in and rescues her by challenging her to do something for Catra and for herself. Not to be with Catra, or to kiss her, or love her, but just stay for her. Needless to say, Adora responds far more enthusiastically than Catra had dared hope. (more on this in my Catradora rant).

Catra starts the show convinced she doesn’t need anyone except Adora, and she’s willing to even push Adora away if she can’t have Adora on her own terms. She goes down that path - ambition, manipulation, treachery, cruelty and isolation - until she has nothing left. She then slowly, painfully, turns around and reaches out and begins to heal the pain in Etheria and the universe rather than causing more. This is a psychological journey in many ways, but even more than that it is a profoundly moral one. It is a story of her accepting responsibility for her actions, facing reality, reaching out to others and making amends. It is in every sense a redemption. And while it works perfectly with Adora’s own development into her own, fuller, happier, healthier person, it works not because of Adora or the power of love, but because of Catra herself. Adora’s companionship, Adora’s rescuing of her and holding her to account, all of these are necessary for Catra to change for the better. But in the end it is Catra herself who chooses the right path, maybe for the first time in her life. And that’s what makes the romance work in turn - Catra is motivated to change not simply by a desire to impress her girlfriend or by Adora’s shining goodness (to the contrary, Adora’s a healthier and less self-sacrificing person at least in the finale...she comes around later than Catra) but by her desire to be true to herself and seek out what she really needs and wants - which is love, and connection, and to do good rather than evil. It’s a gorgeous story that takes an antihero all the way down to hell and then back again, and this makes it a truly unique redemption arc in all of kids TV - not just because of how far Catra falls, but how far she travels overall.

*(I know a lot of fanficcers talk about there being a lot of Horde Soldiers left but like...in the show...they’re nearly all dead, guys. Glimmer and company...okay mostly Mermista... just about killed them all in an afternoon. The cadet Triad survives because they deserted and weren’t there to get drowned/frozen/suffocated by plants when the grand invasion of Brightmoon went sideways)

**Okay, once she was only an accessory to Shadow Weaver’s attempted murder of Catra, the other time she leaves Catra for dead in ‘Pulse’

***I stan PB so hard guys. So hard. Machiavellian genius, mad scientist, god figure, possible Nietzschean Ubermensch? She’s so great. So great.

[doc-pickles]

squeeze cheese, pandemics, & you

AKA the pandemic fic that literally everyone asked for

i still cannot believe that i actually wrote this BUT soooo many people asked me for a freaking pandemic fic that i wrote it. it’s crazy, a little messy, and the sass radiating from levi schmitt fuels my cold dead heart.

i’d like to personally thank @odd-birds-and-booksellers @kidneys4karev @choosingmywife and Nat AKA the “jolex mass grave” chat that bullied me into doing this. they’re also the heart and soul of ‘pandemic jo’ and really brought her and her mannerisms to life. cheers to you ladies, this fic is for you!!

and now... without further ado... the pandemic fic that i wrote most of at 10 pm while slightly tipsy (BONUS POINTS: it’s also another fix it fic bc i am traaaaash hehehe)

“Why do we have a nacho cheese dispenser?”

Jo looked up from her place on the couch, eyeing Levi as he stared at the new machinery in the kitchen. She turned her attention back to the soap opera on TV before answering him. 

“Are you complaining?”

“No but-”

“Exactly.” 

Settling back into the couch, Jo grabbed the bowl of apples that she had covered in nacho cheese earlier. She had developed a nasty online shopping habit since being in lockdown, but figured since she had sold off a good chunk of Alex’s belongings that she deserved to treat herself. 

Worried sick that any exposure to the hospital or any of it’s doctors would harm her, Jo had been on a strict self-quarantine since March. Levi, having to choose between his job or place to live, was forced to reside with Jo full time. The past few weeks had been tough on both roommates, but their bond had been strong regardless of their arguments.

“I’m kind of concerned about your online shopping habit,” Levi sat on the other end of the couch from Jo, a plate of nachos in hand. “Between the nacho cheese machine and the ball pit, I have some questions about the vibe you’re trying to create here.”

“Hey I’ve never had a place to myself. I want to have fun! Let loose! Besides in a few months I’ll have to take care of someone else,” Jo patted her small baby bump affectionately. “I’m trying to be a cool mom and the ball pit was the first step.”

Ah yes, Jo’s unexpected pregnancy and the reason she was so paranoid about staying isolated. Three weeks after Alex had officially left, Jo had realized that he left her much more than just hospital shares and their loft. Four home tests later and a shoe thrown across the loft at Levi (“I’m just telling you Jo, false positives are really ra- OW!”) Jo had indeed confirmed her earlier suspicions. 

“Well… for your sanity’s sake, I hope your online shopping doesn’t go completely off the rails,” a knock on the door interrupted Levi’s sentence, his eyes trailing to Jo accusingly. “If that’s another Amazon package, you’re going to have some explaining to do.” “Actually, it’s something even better,” Jo rolled her eyes, standing from the couch and grabbing what had been dropped on the doorstep. “It’s takeout! From the Italian place downtown with the really good spicy meatballs! It’s important that we support small businesses during these trying times.” “You sound like a walking capitalism ad,” Levi groaned, moving from the couch to the dining table and sitting across from Jo. “But if it keeps me well fed I can’t complain about that. Oh please tell me you’re not- yup that is squeeze cheese on the meatballs. That’s not right.”

+ “Hey have you seen- Ow! Why the hell did I just sit on knitting needles,” Levi held up the items in question as he stared down Jo. “Are you an 85 year old woman? When and why did you take up knitting?” “So I can make baby sweaters, duh,” Jo rolled her eyes and bit into her toast. “I’m not that great at it yet, but Helen has been teaching me over Skype. She’s an expert, she helped me make a baby hat but it’ll probably fit a baby doll before an actual human baby.”

“Okay wow, umm so many questions,” Levi pulled a chair over to where Jo was sitting, staring at her quizzically before jumping into his questions. “First, what is on your toast? Secondly, Helen as in your ex mother in law? And third, why are you sitting in the ball pit wearing a bucket hat and a bathing suit top?”

To his credit, Levi was asking sensible questions to Jo. She was indeed sitting in the ball pit she had bought online, eating a piece of toast with some questionable toppings and wearing an old pair of Alex’s boxers and a bikini top, a Seattle Seahawks bucket hat thrown carelessly on her head. 

“The toast is nutella, swiss cheese, and strawberry jam, it’s like the trailer trash version of what you get at fondue places,” Jo took another bite as if to emphasize her point. “The bathing suit top is because my boobs are huge and won’t fit into my regular bras. Also my baby bump is growing larger by the day so I can’t fit into anything but sweatpants, but it’s way too hot in here for that. The bucket hat is because I was tired of staring at my unwashed hair in the mirror. And yes, Helen and I have become quite good friends and Skype every Tuesday while you go outside to call Helm for an hour and collect hospital gossip. She’s very excited she’s getting another grandchild and has begged me to come and visit once I bear the heir to the Karev name.” 

“So you’re keeping your last name? And passing it onto the baby?”

Jo had spent many nights thinking long and hard about what to do with her last name. She had finally decided to change it but when she had found out she was pregnant, she knew that Alex’s side of the family would be the only real family her child would have. And after crying about it over Skype with her former mother in law, Helen had reassured Jo that she would be more than proud if she and her unborn child carried on the Karev name. 

“Yes we’re both going to be Karev’s,” Jo sighed, hand coming down to her bare bump. “I don’t need to explain my decisions to you Levi.”

“Well I’m assuming that if you’re going to be staying a Karev that you’re going to tell Alex?”

Not wanting to answer Levi’s very direct question, Jo began to pelt him with the balls from the ball pit until he walked away towards the kitchen. Jo knew that she should pick up the phone and call Alex, that he had already missed so much of his other children growing up that he deserved to be there for everything for this one. But Jo was still angry and upset at Alex for leaving her alone. If he was still here, he’d probably be sitting in the ball pit with her, cracking jokes about her inability to knit. 

But he wasn’t, Alex was halfway across the country and Jo couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone and hear her husband's voice. 

+

“For the last time Levi, I do not need anything from you! Stop asking me! And stop texting Meredith every two minutes!”

Jo walked from the couch to the bed, flopping down onto the surface as she let out a loud sigh. It had been eight weeks since she and Levi had been quarantined together, twelve since she had found out she was pregnant, and seventeen since she had actually fallen pregnant. The constant bouts of morning sickness and mood swings in close quarters with her pseudo friend/ roommate had not been easy, but Levi was being a trooper for his part.

“Come on Jo, Meredith just wants to make sure that you’re okay,” Levi pleaded, sinking down into the couch. “Don’t take her over compensating tendencies out on me.”

For her part, Jo understood where Levi was coming from. She knew that Meredith was over protective of her because of what had happened between her and Alex, but it didn’t mean that the situation bothered Jo any less. She was capable of taking care of herself and the life that was growing inside of her, pandemic be damned. 

“Tell Meredith I’m fine and that I’m doing crossword puzzles and going to Zoom therapy sessions once a week,” Jo huffed, hands coming to rest over her eyes as she tried to understand why she had ever thought a one room loft was a good idea. “I don’t need you two hovering over me at all hours of the day.”

A loud banging sounded on the door of the loft, Jo and Levi exchanging looks before Levi scurried to the door to see who was there. The only visitors the two had had in the past few weeks were either Meredith or the grocery delivery guy, neither of which were allowed inside and neither of which pounded their door so loudly.

“Jo! Open the door, I know you’re home,” both Levi and Jo paused at the voice outside the door. Levi, who stood next to the front door, looked to Jo for guidance, but she had no direction to give. “Damn it Jo, open the door. I need to talk to you!” After a nod from Jo, Levi slid the door open, one hand coming up to stop Alex from storming into the loft. The sight of her ex husband for the first time in months made Jo’s stomach flip, her hand coming to cover her mouth so she didn’t scream in shock. 

“Sorry, Jo doesn’t let anyone in the loft anymore,” Alex raised an eyebrow towards Levi, his expression angry and ready to challenge him. “Not even Meredith. There’s a pandemic happening, dude.”

Alex rolled his eyes, trailing them towards Jo who stood nervously in the kitchen now. If you knew her well enough, you could tell that her figure had changed in the past few weeks. Her breasts had filled out and her face was fuller because of the slight amount of weight she had put on. Alex couldn’t see from where he stood, but he assumed that her stomach had begun to curve outwards as well. 

“Jo, I need to talk to you,” Alex wanted so badly to step closer to his ex wife, but he knew that Schmitt would try to stop him no matter what he did. “Mer called me, can we please talk?” Jo peaked around the corner of the kitchen, eyes taking in Alex’s nervous form. His stubble had grown out, his eyes seeming more tired than usual as they scanned over her body. A subconscious hand floated down to her stomach, Jo shielding her unborn baby from the fight that was about to ensue. 

“You can do it from there, Alex,” Jo responded, eyebrows furrowing as she stared Alex down. “You can’t come in unless you’ve quarantined yourself for 14 days and you’ve been tested for COVID-19.”

“Leave it to you to be paranoid during a freaking pandemic,” Alex groaned, one hand coming up to run through his hair. He had driven straight through from Kansas to Washington, only stopping to pee on the side of the road every few hours. “Are you okay? You're…. feeling healthy and what not?” Schmitt, who had been quiet up until then, rolled his eyes in Alex’s direction. After spending every moment of the day with Jo, he knew that the question would piss her off to no end, regardless of who was asking it. He turned to her briefly, noting the pissed off expression on her face, then turned back to Alex.

“Jo is perfectly fine, she has been for the past few months without you,” Levi’s voice was firm and defiant to whatever Alex might counter him with. “And furthermore, I don't think either of us appreciate you showing up here unannounced. We are, may I remind you, in the middle of a pandemic.”

“I’m fine, Alex,” Jo took a step forward, coming further into Alex’s line of sight. Alex’s eyes trailed up and down her body, finally taking in the bump that had appeared on her normally flat stomach. “I do want to talk, I promise, but I can’t risk my health or… or our baby’s health right now. So come back in two weeks and I promise I will talk to you.”

The glare that Alex sends towards Schmitt sends the younger man reeling back, grasping for the door handle as he tries to shut Alex out of the loft. However, the older man’s voice rings through one last time before the door shuts completely. “I’m coming back for you, Jo,” Alex calls out, voice urgent and waiting for his lost love to hear him. “I’m coming back and you can’t stop me.”

Door firmly shut and locked, Levi turned to Jo, who seemed to be brimming with an odd mixture of anger and sadness. She ran her hands through her hair once, finally letting out a scream as she flopped back onto her bed. 

“Well shit,” Jo groaned, hand slipping down the cradle her baby bump. “That’s just about the last thing I needed.”

+

“Did you order breakfast? Because this is delicious.”

Jo stepped out of the bathroom, eyes narrowing as she took in Levi and the huge bag of food in front of him. She hadn’t ordered anything, but since the bag was clearly labeled from her favorite diner, she could only assume where it had come from. 

“Pretty sure you know who sent this,” Jo reached into the bag and grabbed a breakfast burrito, unwrapping it and slathering it in Easy Cheese and hot sauce. “I want to be mad about that, but I really can’t. This is the best thing I’ve eaten in awhile.” 

“It’s been five days, has he said anything to you,” Levi asked, eyes cautiously floating to Jo. While they’d grown closer in quarantine, the one thing that Jo never wanted to talk about was Alex. Now that he was here though, Levi thought that maybe she would be more open about the subject. 

“He’s texted a few times, assured me that he’s staying by himself and that he hasn’t even seen Meredith,” Jo shrugged, one hand coming down to touch her stomach. The once small bump had seemed to balloon in the past week, almost as if her unborn child was trying to show off for their father. “She’s mad at me now, saying that my paranoia is interfering with their friendship. But we haven’t really talked yet.”

To be fair, Alex had been texting Jo a lot since he had showed up at their door and confirmed with his own two eyes that she was pregnant. And if she wasn’t lying straight to Levi’s face currently, she would tell him that she had been texting Alex back. They had talked mostly about the baby, the rest of the world being a subject neither of them wanted to broach. Kansas hadn’t come up either, but Jo had a feeling that maybe everything wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows if Alex hadn’t hesitated in showing up at her door.

“I think it says a lot that he came back, you know,” Levi shrugged as he grabbed a tater tot from the bag and popped it into his mouth. “I mean he said he left for his kids but the first word he hears about you he drives all the way here. That’s a good man for you.” “Well he wouldn’t have had to drive all the way back if he didn’t go there in the first place,” Jo huffed angrily, dropping the rest of her burrito onto the table with a frustrated groan. “I’m going to take a shower.” “You just took one,” Levi countered, a confused look appearing on his face.

“Well unfortunately that’s the only place in this stupid loft that I can sit in silence,” Jo exclaimed, hands coming up in an angry gesture. “If you make it out of here alive it’ll be a miracle, Schmitt.” + “I swear if you don’t back up right now, I’m going to lose my mind!” “Okay but you’re-”

“I told you I’m fine Schmitt, back up!”

The raised voices alarmed Alex as he approached the loft, bringing his keys out to unlock the door instead of knocking. Relieved to find that Jo hadn’t changed the locks, Alex slid the door open and stepped into the loft unnoticed by the bickering roommates.

“I just think if you’re in pain you should go in,” Levi’s hands were held up defensively as he stood in front of Jo. “I’m no expert on pregnancy, but that can’t be a good sign.” “You’re in pain? What’s wrong?” Both Levi and Jo whipped around at the sound of Alex’s voice, the latter holding a hand firmly against her stomach. The glares that she was shooting in his direction didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he brushed it off as he was overwhelmed with worry for Jo. Alex noticed that even in the short time it had been since he had seen her last, Jo’s bump seemed to have grown. 

“You shouldn’t be here. I’m fine,” Jo tried to sound convincing but her voice faltered as she winced. “Seriously I’m okay. Stop looking at me like I’m some shelter puppy that’s about to be put down. I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for awhile now. And you need to get out of here, you’ve only been quarantined for like a week.”

Despite her best efforts, Jo had exhausted herself scolding Alex and felt breathless almost immediately. Settling her free hand on the arm of the couch, Jo tried to be inconspicuous as she sat down, but both men next to her were watching her closely. 

“Where does it hurt,” Alex asked as he sat next to Jo, unfazed by her outburst at him. 

“I told you I’m fine!”

“She’s been breathless and clutching her lower right quadrant for about half an hour,” Schmitt offered up, Jo immediately tossing a throw pillow in his direction. “I’m trying to be helpful! You haven’t been in pain this whole entire time.”

“Go be helpful in the bathroom Schmitt! I don’t need both of you hovering around me and I know that he won’t leave,” Jo gestured to Alex vaguely as she took another deep breath, leaning over as she clutched her stomach again. “Go!”

Levi ran off, Jo letting out an aggravated sigh as soon as he left the room. A few tears sprinkled Jo’s cheeks as she rubbed her hand into her stomach. 

“I’m fine I just… can’t catch my breath and my stomach has some localized pain,” Jo didn’t fight Alex off when he placed his palm gently next to hers, his larger hand almost covering her whole bump. “I’m okay, I swear I’m fine. The baby’s fine and it’s okay and nothing is wrong.”

As Jo rambled more, her tears began to fall harder, breaths coming in short gasps as she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. Doing his best to comfort and assess her at the same time, Alex rubbed his hand gently against her stomach. A few light kicks met his hand, tears threatening to fall as Alex felt his child move for the first time. Once he was satisfied that Jo had calmed down, he spoke up, sure his crooked grin was showing in full force. 

“Well, you’re not dying,” Alex chuckled, his fingers moving lightly against Jo’s stomach as he explained what she was feeling. “Baby’s lodged up here, in your rib, and when they kick, they knock the air out of your lungs. I can feel their head down here, which means their legs are stretching out and kicking up towards your diaphragm. That’s why you feel so out of breath. If you’re lucky, I can try and coax them out of their tight spot.” 

Jo barely nodded, eyes closed as she continued to lean against Alex and take deep breaths. He moved one hand up to where he felt the baby’s feet and gave a slight push, Jo groaning loudly as they shifted. Alex waited a moment, grinning when he felt a small kick against the lower left side of Jo’s stomach. 

“Oh god,” Jo let a gasp out, eyes flying open as she laid her hand over Alex’s. “Oh, I can breathe again! I haven’t been able to breathe since 2 AM. Jesus that feels so much better.”

Alex took Jo in with a sense of awe, observing all of the changes he had missed about her. She had cut her hair short again, the locks just brushing her shoulders, and her cheeks had filled out more. The way she had eased into her pregnancy made him smile, knowing that she had always had a maternal instinct hidden underneath her hard exterior. Alex eyed the chain across Jo’s neck that held two silver rings, but said nothing about it. 

“Easy trick, just remember that if they get themselves twisted around again. Your OB didn’t show you that,” Alex watched Jo turn her head towards his shoulder, burying her face and mumbling something incoherent. “I can't hear you when you’re hiding your face like that.”

“I haven’t been to my OB,” Jo muttered, eyes focusing on Alex’s hand that still sat under hers. “Not since I confirmed I was pregnant.”

“You’re a doctor, you know better than that,” Alex knew that Jo would never avoid something this important without a reason, so he didn’t go into a full on rant like he wanted to. “Why haven’t you gone in, Jo?” 

“Because I can’t leave the house! I’m so scared that if I leave something will happen to the baby and,” Jo inhaled deeply, her free hand coming up to wipe at her eyes. “This baby is the only thing keeping me sane, it’s the last connection I have to you… and I just can’t risk that. I’ve already hurt too much this year, I don’t need more heartbreak. I’m a doctor, I’ll know if something is wrong and I can go in then. I’m fine here, I don’t need to leave.”

Alex stared at Jo for a long moment before pulling her fully into his embrace. He knew the way he had left her was cruel, but at the time his brain had been so turned around that he couldn’t see another option than breaking the heart of the woman he loved most. 

“Izzie is remarried. She… her kids call him dad and he’s uh, he’s a good guy. She said that I can bring the kids here for a few weeks during the summer if I wanted to but I don’t belong in Kansas,” Alex pulled back and looked at Jo, tears streaking down her face and wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m sorry Jo, I know I screwed up and I should’ve just talked to you when I found out but I was so freaked out that I just… ran. But I wanna be here, with you and this baby and I wanna take care of you. It’s always been you, Jo.”

Jo sniffled, both hands running over her face quickly in an effort to dry some of her tears. She fixed Alex with a serious stare, eyes meeting his for the first time that day. 

“You have a lot of making up to do. And you’re gonna have to be the one to kick Levi out,” Jo motioned towards the bathroom, where she could hear faint cheers echoing from. “And… if you promise to get me cheesecake afterwards, I will go to see my OB this week.”

“I told you,” Levi strutted out of the bathroom, a satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s a good man you have there.”

“Oh shut up!”

[beautifulchaostrash]

OK I know I always talk abt the same things on my blog but maybe some Billy hcs? Or lenzshire? Also your ABC NSFW thing was super good and you had some rlly good stuff in there I died for

DW YOU’RE VALID FOR HYPER FIXATING ON BILLY you get that mfing serotonin boo

So uh, lowkey ive come around to the whole idea of brahms’ age regression and now i have hella headcannons for him(and Billy) UwU

Starting with what I think happened when the first met:

I think that at first, brahms would hate billy, and vice versa. Think about it, Brahms is quiet, tidy, and childlike, but Billy is loud, messy, and extremely adult and vulgar. They’d probably fight a lot in the beginning. They barely can get a grip on coping with their own shit, so trying to understand each other will take some trial and error. Billy is a bit more capable than brahms at expressing himself in a rational adult conversation. It’s not that Billy's necessarily gotten therapy before, it’s just a matter of Billy growing up more or less in the real world and has had more exposure to interacting with other people, while Brahms spent his life sheltered in the walls of his parent’s estate. 

This first set Hc’s is just me going over some of the specifics of those conflicts, and how i think they would get resolved. 

(i originally found this HC on @the-thot-clowns blog, go check them out!) When billy first stumbled across brahms they iimmediately threw hands like a couple of feral alley cats:

Brahms: Who are you? What are you doing here?

Billy: s-suck my f-fat fucking cock yew mangey brit!

Brahms: Oh, well in that case,

A lot of their relationship is founded on trial and error, unfortunately

At first Billy doesn’t understand why brahms uses a kid voice sometimes, he just thought it was him being silly

Unfortunately, that meant that billy treated him like an adult all the time for the first few weeks but…

Let’s just say he learns his lesson very quickly 

He may or may not have gotten throttled for trynna touch brahms’ bootyskjahdjhv

Once that’s all figured out, he is very very very careful  to try not to expose Brahms to adult things when he’s in “kid mode” (for lack of a better term). Which is highkey kinda difficult cause any and all physical affection makes billy go bbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

So for the first little while, Brahms will have to settle for simple head pats and hand holds until Billy can get a handle on himself.

Eventually he does, but there are still days where he doesn’t feel comfortable touching him, and Brahms gets upset. Not understanding why he’ll snuggle with him some days, and refuse to even make eye contact with him the next. 

They talk about it though! If there's one thing Billy’s good at, it’s talking.  

Brahms suggests using safe-words, green for go, yellow for slow, red for stop! This makes thing so much easier for the both of them

As much as Billy hates the brahms doll(it’s creepy ok?), it plays very important role in Brahms’ communication/headspace

He carries around the doll when he’s in kid mode and leaves it in his room when he’s normal. Billy calls the doll/kid Brahms ‘Little Brahmsy’ or ‘Brahmsy-boy’ and calls adult Brahms well, just Brahms. 

This leads to a new set of codewords!

When Brahms wants to go out of his headspace he’ll ‘put Little Brahmsy to bed’, tucking the doll away in his childhood bedroom. When he wants to go into headspace, he’ll ‘wake up’ the doll. This helps him transition easier, and it means that Billy knows what's going on. It also means that if Billy has an episode while Brahms is regressed, he can jump out of it quickly and help him.  

And If Billy’s ever unsure, he'll ask if Brahmsy-Boy is ‘awake’. 

They have about -5 when it comes to access to mental health resources qwp

In my mind, billy is very analytical. Always trying to understand the world as though he was breaking down a movie or piece of literature.

He’d probably look online for advice on how to deal with certain things, maybe even order a few self help books(depending on what the situation with brahms’ parents is, he’d probs place an order in their name(brahms still has their credit card info stashed somewhere, let's be real))

It takes brahm’s a while to get used to billy’s constant talking and noisemaking 

Now that that’s out of the way, I wanna talk about some Misc. Hcs I have for them!

Billy reads aloud to Brahms! Whether it’s lessons or a bedtime story or just for entertainment, Billy will put on a show for him. Doing all of the voices, moving around and acting out the ‘scenes’. He’s an incredibly good actor and it makes brahms absolutely giddy!

Brahms on the other hand, has the prettiest singing voice you will probably ever hear in your life, even though he himself doesn’t think it’s all that amazing. His adult voice is low and smooth and makes billy feel all warm and fuzzy. Even his kid voice is oddly soothing to Billy. He’ll sing billy’s favorite lullabies to him when he’s stressed or having an episode!

That shit is like a fing tranqualizer to him. Brahms starts humming mozart while they snuggle on the couch and Billy is out within seconds.

Billy will play music on the stereo just so he can hear Brahms sing along

Brahms likes to watch movies with billy cause he does nothing but give sarcastic remarks the whole time and it makes him giggle

While snuggling, billy discovers that when he taps gently on brahm’s mask with his fingernail, it makes a very lovely sound and brahms’ porcelain mask becomes his new favorite stim toy sorry but he doesn’t make the rules

Another headcannon found on @the-thot-clown blog, Billy and Brahms’ fav place to nap together is brahms’ bedroom in the walls

Billy knows how to play the piano and Brahms’ can play the violin! (if you watch the movie theres a violin in brahms’ secret hideout as well as sheet music) They have music nights and sing and play music together!

Billy purrs a lot when he’s cuddling with Brahms and he thinks it’s super cute!

Despite the misunderstandings and fights in the beginning, they have a *mostly* healthy relationship. Billy does a lot for Brahms, going into ‘caretaker mode’ when Brahms is in headspace. Makes sure he doesn’t get hurt, cooks him meals, and plays games with him.

Brahms effectively gets exactly what he needs, a way to vicariously live through the childhood he never got to have. He doesn’t necessarily act as brahms’ parent though, more like an older sibling or friend of the same age than anything else. Taking care of him is Billy’s way of making up for what happened to Agnes. Brahms gives him comfort and a shoulder to cry on when he needs it. He also gets a secluded space where he can be himself without fear of bullying or resentment.

They do a lot to balance eachother out, and take care of one another. 

-mod elith

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Local Teen Rebels For The Environment, Local Genius Reveals Odd Sensations, Local Bully Pranked, Local Dead Kid Vents and Makes New Friend

Sam carved through the sky on a trail of brilliant neon blue light that came from the engine of her board, diving down every time she saw a piece of litter on the ground and putting it in the nearest trash or recycling bin she found.  "I need to ask Tucker about installing some soft of litter spotting function for the AI in the helmets, this is ridiculous.” Once she reached her house, Sam alighted on her balcony and hummed. Pulling it into the house on foot to show grandma would probably be safer.  On the other hand, I've skateboarded through this place more times than I can count.  Sam flew into her room, out the bedroom door, and down the hallway in search of her grandmother.  Encountering a couple of people in the halls had Sam testing the strength of the magnetic boots by swerving to ride along the ceiling.  "Woo!" Sam swerved once more as she felt the blood rushing to her head and slowed to a stop over the main staircase.

A search through her grandmother's study, the dining room, and several other fun parts of the mansion, Sam concluded that Ida had to be in the bowling alley.  Halfway there, she was met with the only real obstacle between her and most of the more exciting fun in her life. "Samantha, what are you doing?"  Her mother and father stared at her in shock, anger, and bafflement as Sam came to a dead stop in front of them.  Dismounting the board, Sam grinned.

"I'm about to show grandma Ida something amazing, as soon as you move so I can get into the bowling alley."

"Where did you get this dangerous piece of technology?"  Her father couldn't stop staring at the board long enough to glare at her, which her mother had covered as usual.  "This is from that Fenton boy isn't it?" Sam rolled her eyes and pulled off her helmet.

"Yes, Danny and Tucker both made hoverboards and are helping me-"

"Endanger yourself with reckless stunts!  Oh, you were bad enough with your skateboard inside but now you're riding this thing around my house?"

"Last I checked, Mother, it's Grandma Ida's house, not yours."  Sam held up her helmet. "Also I'm perfectly safe. I have new magnetic boots to keep me on the board no matter how harsh the winds blow and a helmet in case the board goes out of control.  I'm the one who taught Danny and Tucker how to surf in the first place."

"And look where interacting with them has gotten you!  First, it's ghosts and monsters that attack you at the school and now this?  What if you fall while trying to do a trick on a rooftop? What protection is this helmet then?"

Sam tugged at her jacket, shaking her head.  "Dad, please, anytime I go high I'm wearing layers to cushion the impact.  I was maybe 10 feet above ground level the whole time here." What they don't know won't hurt them.  No interaction with Sam's parents would be complete without a screech of outrage from her mother, however, how could Sam forget?

"WHAT IS THAT?"  Mother pulled her jacket back enough to reveal the new scar she'd received from being hit by one of Skulker's crossbow bolts.  I've been doing so good about covering that up too - only use makeup has.

"I'm not sure if you've ever roughhoused with friends in your entire life, mother, but I tripped over at Tucker's house and scraped my shoulder on one of the trees in his backyard.  It's nothing serious and should probably fade soon enough." Grabbing onto her board, Sam shouldered past her parents and walked toward the bowling alley door. "Honestly, you need to stop overreacting like that.  You might lose your voice." Gods forbid I get any peace like that around here.

"That is it!  I have had it!  Bad enough that the Fenton boy and his insane parents have been influencing you to keep up with this ridiculous phase of yours-"

"All things in life are a phase, Dad, name one permanent thing besides death and entropy."

"But now their inventions and nonsense are putting you in danger!  Baby girl, I'm thinking I should get a restraining order."

Sam felt her grip grow tight around the knob of the door and she scowled at her parents.  "Never call me baby girl, and how much wine have you been drinking lately? You can't just put a restraining order on my best friend, Dad, I voluntarily hang out with him because he's fun to be around."

"How dare you speak to your father like that?"  The look on her mother's face likely could wither all of Sam's precious plants at once.  Sam remembered a time when that look would shut her down for days at a time and she'd simply say nothing to either of her parents.  Wrenching the door open Sam rolled her eyes. Exposure therapy without the therapy I guess.  "Young lady you will apologize this instant!"

"Oh, but Mother, you wouldn't want me to be insincere, would you?  I didn't come to argue with you over something as ridiculous as a restraining order that would never work, I came to show Grandma Ida proof that we have the technology ready for my idea.  Unlike you two, I'm trying to steer this company in a direction that'll contribute to helping the planet. Because, ya know, I care."

"What you should be caring about is respecting your elders!"

"As the elder here, Jeremy, I'd feel respected if you all would stop shoutin right at the door.  It's barely even noon." Grandma Ida shook her head as she scootered over. Sam let go of the board and let it hover, gesturing grandly at it and her grandma stared for a long moment.

"Don't you see, mother?  Samantha's friendship with that Fenton boy is opening her up to ridiculous amounts of danger and she refuses to respect even our concerns about the issue, much less show enough respect not to insult us to our faces!"  Dad's scowl turned quickly to wide-eyed bemusement when Grandma Ida laughed hard enough to start wheezing. "Mother?"

"Babula you managed to bring me a little miracle just to say you can pull off a bigger one!  Every day you remind me more and more of myself." She pulled Sam into a hug. "I will say that you shouldn't go insulting your parents - there's a difference between rewarding respect with respect and refusing to give it - but just going outside is dangerous for a child and you both know that.  This hoverboard is no different from any other sport that Sam does, and it's a marvelous thing that she has friends willing to share such amazing gifts with her."

"Ida, why do you always side with her whenever she argues with us?"

"Because I agree with her, Pamela, why else?  From all your shouting I heard something about a restraining order."  Grandma scoffed and Sam grinned. "That's preposterous. The Fentons have done nothing wrong to us."

"They are a disturbance to the public peace-"

"They are wonderous inventors who provide the town with limitless, cheap power, mother.  The Fentons do good for the town - what if we somehow had a blackout? With the whole town connected to the Fentons are you gonna sue them for coming out to fix whatever the problem is?"  Sam crossed her arms and glared at her parents with as much anger as she could muster. The entire argument was getting tiresome more than anything.

Mother looked moments away from exploding before Dad took a deep breath, let it out, and put a comforting hand on Mother's shoulders.  "Fine. No charges or restraining orders against the Fentons. But the next time I hear they've put you in danger, young lady, all bets are off."  Her parents left before their blood pressure could be raised any higher, and Sam turned to her grandma, giving her another hug.

"Thank you, grandma.  It's good to know you have my back."

"Of course, Sammy.  Now, while this is amazing I'm not sure it'll convince the board without an actual blueprint for the car you want us to make."  She smiled. "It does look fun though."

"It is fun but as much as I hate agreeing with Mom and Dad it's also pretty dangerous if you can't keep your balance."  An old lady pouting was always the good kind of cute, even someone as cute adverse as Sam could admit that. "My friends helped out even more than I had planned, and we have the protoype for that car ready for a test drive if you wanna see it?”

“What are we doin still here then?”

“I dearly hope you understand, Mr. Fenton, that you cannot use your odd firearms on school property unless you have legitimately no other choice.”  Danny feels his face burning as Principal Ishiyama gives him the rundown on the rules of the school, always rounding back to that. As if she hadn’t made it clear five times already.  “It may not technically be illegal for you to own the weapons themselves and I understand that you might inevitably need them, but I better not see them out unless it’s an emergency. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am, you’re perfectly clear.”  Danny did his absolute best not to grit his teeth when he spoke to the principal, aware that he was on thin ice.  Still, he couldn’t be more relieved when he was told to gather his things and head to his new locker. Walking out into the hall to find Sam and Tucker there, Danny leaned on Sam and groaned loudly.  “I’m tempted to ask for homeschooling.” His friends stare at him flatly for all of five seconds before he cracks and leans instead on Tucker. “Yeah, no, definitely not. You’re right.”

“Of course we’re right.  Now, which locker are we taking you too so you can stop leaning and start walking?”  Tucker ruffled Danny’s hair even as the boy pulled his hood over his head and groaned.  Eventually, Danny stood up and pulled out a slip of paper.

“Locker 274, apparently.”  Danny started checking numbers when he heard the most melodramatic of sounds. “Did you just. Gasp in unison?  Did you practice that?” Turning around Danny saw that Sam and Tucker wore matching expressions of abject horror that went beyond what even a fight with a killer robot poacher could evoke.   “Did my life just become a horror movie?”

“You don’t know the legend of locker 274?”  Danny couldn’t tell if the horror in Tucker’s whisper was at the legend or Danny’s ignorance of it.

“Is there a vampire waiting to spring out and suck out my blood if I open this locker door?”

Sam snorted and shook her head, unease unravelling before his eyes from a tangled ball of prickly violet shards to verdant vines and leaves.  "No, you dork. The locker is supposedly haunted - probably why she gave it to you." Danny groaned, long and loud, banging his head on the locker.

"Sidney Poindexter used to have this locker back in the fifties, you see, and people were even bigger assholes to each other then than they are now," Tucker said, voice pitched toward an old scary movie narrator.  "When you're nerdy, your look isn't right and someone finds out you're not straight in the fifties, shit gets real bad real fast. Everyone bullied him all the time, and he got stuffed in this locker so many times that they say when he died here at Casper, his spirit lingered in the locker itself."

Danny stared at Tucker for a long moment, turning all of that over in his head.   Then he pulled his backpack off his back and thwapped Tuck on the head with it. Sam snorted, laughing next to him and he got her too.  "Watch it ghost boy!"

"That didn't hurt.  Also, did you guys seriously just gay up not tell me about the haunted locker this whole time?  Were you ever going to?" Danny opened the locker with a sigh, focusing on the second plane. The mirror at the back of the locker shimmered dimly with ghostly light but Danny could hardly see it.  “There’s something there but it’s dim-” hands were on his body and Danny was shoved into the locker entirely, limbs folding to compact himself with as little damage as possible. Pushing himself out, Danny whirled around with a snarl.

“-cking hell, goth bitch, I was just helpin Fentonio check out his new locker.”  Dash had one hand on his shin and the other was covering his crotch protectively - as though that could keep him safe from Sam’s steel boots.  “It’s Poindexter’s locker, right? Perfect place for a geek like him.”

“Wow Dash, I’m impressed!  A word with three whole syllables in it!  Maybe you’ll be able to use your expanded vocabulary to get a good grade on an english test without cheating off of Mikey.”  Dash scowled at Danny, his aura sparking and popping like fireworks and red as his jacket. “Or maybe football has damaged your skull beyond repair and you’ll never be able to get anywhere without swinging your fists around.  Only time will tell, huh?”

Before Dash could follow up Sam’s manslaughter with his own attempt at Murdering Danny™ - the fun new game for people ages 14-105 - the bell rang and the trio slipped away in the ensuing crowd of students flooding the halls to get to class.  Sam ruffled Danny’s hair, which he then covered up with his hood, and the three of them laughed as they tumbled into class together and sat down. “That was amazing, Danny! Dash is gonna try to actually murder you next time he sees you, but I’m proud of you for getting out of it so quickly.”

“The kinda bullshit he pulls, he deserves a lot more than just being talked around in circles,” Tucker grumbled.  “Like… if you got him back while you’re invisible, no one could know it was you getting back at him, right?”

“True…”

“Actually, Danny, your parents would find out it’s you.  Pretty damn quickly.” Sam nudged him with an elbow. “Or at least that a ghost did it.  One tore through the school and now the principal is paranoid - ghostly revenge on Dash would just tell her to have the security system turned on.”

“Ugh, that’d be a pain.”  Danny agreed with a slump, pouting at the board.  “Still, just one prank might not hurt.”

“Or it’ll hurt a hell of a lot, Danny.”

“The system won’t notice Danny at all and he can wait till it’s turned off to do something again.  Ow, ow, Sam my head is very precious and that textbook counts as a lethal weapon.”

“Please stop making horrible suggestions to our best friend then.”  Sam flashed Tucker a smile with far too many teeth for comfort and he grumbled with his arms crossed.  Sam’s grin slid from threatening to smug and Danny rolled his eyes.

The day was at first hope inducingly normal.  Classes were unengaging, unchallenging, or just boring.  Sam, while proud of the results of the test drives of the car project, was now championing a protest against having to dissect frogs in school.  By lunch, Danny had to finally say something between all the nodding along. “Sam, as much as I agree that I don’t want to cut open frog corpses, I also don’t want to think about fro-any corpses while I’m eating lunch.”

“Fair enough,” Sam conceeded.  “You guys have anything to add?”

Tucker jerked his chin in the direction of the table the jocks and cheerleaders were sitting at, rather close to them.  Danny raised a brow and listened in. “And all of a sudden, this locker door flies open and nails me.” That had all three of them turning their attention to him.  Paulina, dubbed by some as the prettiest girl in school, was brushing white foam out of her hair and Danny winced.

“I’m gonna be brushing this stuff out of my hair for a week!”

“It’s like the school is haunted.”

Sam arched a brow at Danny, leaning closer to him.  “Sounds like somebody’s been busy.”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”  Danny grinned, barely holding in a laugh at the idea.  “That’s fire extinguisher foam in her hair, I know how hard it is to get that out.  I’m not gonna do that to anyone.”

“Ok but how’d that even happen?”  Tucker chewed his chicken for a few moments before pointing his fork at Danny.  “Maybe Sidney Poindexter’s ghost has something to do with this? You said you could sense something in the mirror right?  It was pretty faint but I’m absolutely certain I heard like, buzzing or something coming off of it.”

“I- wait, buzzing?  Like you could hear the energy?”  Danny put down his food and stared at Tucker’s ears, trying to see if any ghostly light shone from them.  Tucker nodded and Danny frowned. “That’s not normal.”

“Nothing about us is normal, Danny,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes.  “I was shopping for books the other day and felt some weird vibrations coming off of it and when I picked it up I got the strangest feeling in the world.”

“I first started hearing it when I cracked Skulker’s stupid firewalls down, and now whenever I touch a piece of technology I can practically hear it singing to me.”  Tucker shrugged, poking his chicken. “Maybe it’s like, something to do with the radiation that came from the portal opening? I mean, look what it did to you.”

“Yeah but I was in the portal when it turned on.”

“And we were right in front of it with no hazmat suits.  Plus we’ve been around ghostly stuff a lot, so maybe we’re just getting super powers like you, but slower?”  Sam nudged Danny’s arm and smiled. “I mean, the book I found was on magick, imagine if a charge of ecto energy is all it takes to make that work.”

“Hey, maybe that’s what’s happening with Sidney Poindexter in the mirror?  Exposure to Danny’s power may have made it easier for Poindexter’s own power to leak out into our world.”

Before Danny could say anything to that, a football collided with the side of his head and he found himself leaning on Sam for stability.  Reaching down, Danny grabbed the ball, looked around the cafeteria as though wondering who might’ve thrown it, and crushed it in his hand. In his peripheral vision, Danny caught Dash groaning over his foot and standing up to leave.  Sam brought his attention back to her. “You ok Danny?”

“I’m peachy.  I’m apparently radiating my best friends into ghostly mutants and the meathead quarterback just beaned me with his football and looks like he’s about to go grab another one.”

Tucker glared at Dash’s back and muttered, “I wonder how Dash would feel with one of those frog cadavers down his throat?”  Danny felt his frown curl upside down in a smirk.

“Or 12, in his pants.  I’ll be right back.” Before Sam could say something about morals and being the better person, Danny stood up and hurried off to the bathroom.  Making sure no one was there to see him, he reached inside and let the icy chill of the void fill his body up in a flash of light, and slid immediately into the unreal space between spaces.  In moments, Danny was in Falluka’s biolab, and grinned at the empty room. A box full of dead frogs invsible in his hand, Danny found Dash opening his locker, and yanked up his boxers, then the back of his jeans before dumping the frogs in his pants.  Dash ran off screaming and Danny laughed so hard he started floating backwards.

“You think that’s funny, buster?”  Danny flinched, opening his eyes to stare at the person in front of him.  A ghost in the shape of a glowing white human, his edges rippling slightly despite the lack of a breeze.  His eyes are solid white, but glimmer like polished opals, his mouth twisted up in a frown and his clothes clearly dated.  Danny gawked at the transparent teen in front of him and checked mentally to be sure that he was still just as heated up as he should be when invisible.

“You can see me?”

“Yeah that’s right, bub!  Now leave that poor kid alone.”  The boy pointed a thumb in the direction Dash had run, and Danny felt his blood boil.

“Poor kid?  Poor kid?”  Danny slipped back into visibility, his voice reverberating with his anger.  “That poor kid is the star quarter back of the Casper High Ravens!  That poor kid is the guy who stuffs me and every other scrawny kid in his path into our lockers because he thinks it’s funny we can be forced to fit in them!  That oh so poor kid’s wealthy, popular, and has put more kids through swirlies, purple nurples and indian burns than years he’s been alive!  Oh no, he might have a hard life at home that’s not an EXCUSE and I don’t CARE!  He’s been doing this shit for as long as I’ve known him!”  Danny shoved a finger into the other boy’s chest, barely noticing the lights flickering and threatening to shatter.  “If stuffing a few frogs down a guy’s pants in retaliation for being half drowned in toilet water is bad then call me the fucking Joker.”

The boy floated there, staring at Danny with wide eyes for the longest time and Danny took that moment to breathe and collect himself.  By the time his aura wasn’t crackling at the edges like solar flares, Danny was being offered a transparent hand. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.  Name’s Sidney Poindexter.”

“I’m Danny, Danny Phantom.  Hey, we should probably leave before the security system comes on - do you remember where the park is?”  If this was the Sidney Poindexter Tucker had told him about then he might not’ve been around when the Park was first there.  Danny had no idea how old anything in their town was but he was beginning to feel he should learn.

Sidney smiled and nodded.  “Yeah, I do. Care to show me around?”

“I actually can’t leave the building yet, but I’ll meet you there, I promise.”  Danny patted Sidney on the shoulder, considered what he knew about Sidney, and pulled him into a hug instead.  The other ghost went stiff for a moment but relaxed and hugged him back not too long after. Danny patted his back and watched him fly through the ceiling before heading back to the bathroom, unseen and untouchable, and from there back to his friends.  “Guys, you’ll never believe what just happened.”

[replicantdeviancy]

PSA;

Just a small note; long rant under cut. This rant involves a personal experience involving internet libel and bullying. Please use discretion if this makes you nervous or upsets you.

I would like to begin this statement by saying that no names or urls will be mentioned for the sake of privacy and to protect the identity of those involved. The bullies in question has been blocked and since reported on all active accounts and at this time no legal action has been taken. I do not condone the act of call outs, cancel culture or witch hunts. I am simply seeking to explain my side of things in hopes that if one comes across these falsities involving my name they will be sensible, rational, and think twice about their validity. Please feel free to open up a dialogue with me at any time (work/sleep schedule taken under consideration) and I will be happy to speak with you. Not just about this unforeseen issue, but in general. Please also have the decency to approach things with a respectful mindset as I will be nothing but respectful with you.

Thank you.

-

In light of a recent conversation I feel I must address this issue as the individual in question seems to have made an unfortunate resurgence. Just under a year ago, in a misguided attempt to use my writing as a means of self-therapy to combat a past trauma I had endured, I decided upon using a narrative in a single AU verse with a single RP partner. Due to some very negative responses from one single individual (I’ll refer to them as A) that narrative had since been abandoned and deleted. However, A brought it upon themselves to perpetuate their false perception of the situation without a rational attempt at speaking with me. Instead of trying to clarify my reason for choosing to participate in something that we, in all actuality, found mutually repugnant, they decided to send me a very harassing message. (I still keep the screenshot of it for legalities sake).

At that time I thought nothing of it. Just a troll trying to shame me for something which offended them. Like most trolls, I expected A was in a very bad place emotionally and was simply deciding to take a shot at low hanging fruit. As such, I responded flippantly. (Please do also not that I personally suffer with extreme generalized anxiety and panic disorder and while I don’t recall every detail of that evening, I do remember I was trembling uncontrollably). I spoke with a few friends about the incident, and they helped me feel better about it. I expected it was over and done. I was incorrect.

A had taken this out of context narrative and my flippant post and decided to call me out, involving a small group of fellow anti’s, perpetually spreading misinformation about the entire situation and framing screenshots to fit their narrative. I wasn’t too upset at the time, still under the impression this individual was someone in a bad place in life, someone with anger issues in need of counseling or therapy. My impression was further proven when this group also began calling out others within the fandom, making outlandish and baseless claims involving the race of some muns and antisemitic remarks. I was also removed from a group chat due to the libel upon my name. Now frightened, I spoke with a few friends again and discovered they too had received call outs. Many of these people had anxiety and similar emotional traumas, mental disorders and the like, which only ended up hurting them further.

I cannot hope to understand why A chose to harm these people, nor what their reason is to blindly make accusations and harass others in place of reasonable dialogues. I did at one point open communication with them, noting their issues on the matter and explaining in no uncertain terms that I agreed with them, that it was simply an exploration of a theme, very closed off and not open to anyone else under any circumstances. (screenshots also kept for legal purposes)  I imagined this communication went well but it appears not to have, as I have come to notice several blogs whom I do not know and have had no contact with already have me blocked.

I am not saying this to garner sympathy, nor to I condone action on anyone’s part involving the individuals in question. I’m a grown adult, perfectly capable of dealing with my inner demons. I have far more concern for those who can’t fight back or don’t have the ability to brush off such vicious negativity directed towards them. I hope others in the future will make the right decision in regard to seeing things on others blogs that they don’t approve of and, rather than go into a fit of wild accusation and blocking that person, being big enough to open up and speak with them with a little compassion.

I will express that some of the themes on this blog are used as a means of personal therapy. Some have worked out, some did not. I have been very private when it comes to my personal life, as no one is entitled to my life story nor my reasons for writing what I choose to. However, apart from a few choice individuals, this has been a very open and caring fandom ( in spite of it’s size ) and most people are rational and compassionate people who just adore their characters and love Detroit: Become Human.

I personally owe a lot to DBH as some chapters helped me get into a better place when it comes to past trauma. The more negative scenes involving Todd and Kara actually had me shaking and needing to take a break, the scenes with Hank involving alcohol made me nervous. But over time and with exposure I no longer automatically have such negative reactions. I began to be able to take a step back and look at these things with a clearer, more objective mindset and could see this as a characters journey rather than something frightening. It still disturbs me and I don’t like it, but I’m more comfortable now.

It’s rather the same with some of my writing. I only have a few things I will absolutely, expressly NOT write about, because no matter the context I simply cannot make myself write it. That’s an individual thing, and everyone has something like that. I hope we can all be understanding to one another on this matter.

Moving forward, I want to make it expressly clear that I do not condone or even agree with any questionable acts my or any characters engage in on this platform. Please take into account that if someone - anyone - writes about something questionable that they in no way condone these things and that the mundane does not, in fact, equal the muse. They are two separate entities with separate opinions, feelings, emotions, thoughts and mindsets. If we begin to police others on their ethics based solely on the theme portrayed or character written, we fall dangerously towards a slippery slope of thought policing. I urge all of you to read a book entitled 1984 which examines the dangers of this very narrative.

As a closing note, I want to say that I am not angry at A or the group of anti’s for their actions. I’m not even upset that they seem to be keen on spreading misinformation a year after the incident had been resolved. I only wish to say that I sincerely hope they get the help they need and that they someday find themselves in a better, happier place emotionally.

If you yourself are bullied or preyed upon but internet trolls, harassed or otherwise a victim of libel, please have the courage to report it to staff. Block the harasser in question. Do as I have and keep screen caps of their harassing messages and posts and show them to staff. Libel is a federal crime and online bullying is a prosecutable offense in a court of law. And if you yourself are someone who participates in cancel culture or bullying, please, I encourage you to speak with someone and find the source of this anger within yourself. Speak with your primary care physician and begin the path towards therapy, because your mental health is important and there are people who love you. There is no reason to take your aggressions out on others or jump to conclusions. If you cannot afford therapy, I encourage you to use one of the services from the list linked HERE. The saying “Walk a mile in my shoes” should be adopted, for you should be willing to open yourself up and empathize with others. Everyone does something for a reason.

Friends, please be careful out there. Bullies are a rare thing in this fandom as it stands and as they have slowly been banned or moved on, the DBH fandom has become a better, positive place for many individuals to express their love of characters, actors and the game itself and can engage others in fun, inventive writing projects. Let’s continue to be the fans that Bryan and Amelia would be proud of. Let’s stay positive and accepting towards one another. I have been so grateful for the people who chose to follow me and wanted to write with me, who put up with my stupid gushing and silly thread ideas. Not a single one of you is a number to me. You all bring something to the table and I’m glad to be here, two years in and having a blast. I hope each of you have such good fortune.

Take care and be well.

[3500things]

national coming out day 2019

originally posted 10.11.2019 on my personal facebook page

To everyone:

National Coming Out Day is today, Friday October 11, 2019.

And I know this post is late. I realize it is after midnight on the east coast so technically it isn’t National Coming Out Day anymore, but something happened tonight that was monumental- and I didn’t get to finish my initial thought while writing earlier. Keep reading, please:

I am excited to celebrate in my first National Coming Out Day, in 2019, as an officially-out member of the gay community. However, today has been very emotional as it causes me to pause for a moment and reflect on my own journey and how I arrived here. As I am reading articles and newsfeeds on the internet today and seeing people compelled in the acceptance and encouragement of this day, to come out, I must say I have very pointed and mixed emotions.

I have mentioned and identified myself as a gay man in a few blogs that I have written recently (that I am sure nobody reads), however, this is really the first time I have publicly acknowledged it as a whole on Facebook- other than to those who I have directly come out to. I have taken pleasure in promoting myself as an ally for a few years now, but I am tired of hiding behind that identity and am ready to step out into the light and live a full, unfiltered and authentic life.

I have known I was different for a long time. I felt feelings as a young child that I simply did not understand, and those feelings did not go away- they never have and only intensified over time. I was raised in an extremely conservative-Christian household, taught that being gay was an immoral and unnatural thing, I got the hellfire and brimstone speech and I was encouraged and forced to speak hate towards things that were supposedly against God. And I did those things. And I hurt people. And I never wanted to do them. But, I always knew that I was what I was forced to speak out about.

I became extremely depressed and suicidal in my teenage years. I tucked away my true self and I damaged myself mentally and physically with the rhetoric I was forced to digest. I never felt like I could be me, until now. In this moment. But getting to this point hasn’t been easy. It has been countless therapy sessions, panic attacks, many nights crying myself to sleep and length of time to get me to finally accept myself and allow myself to explore with the God-given (yes, God-given) gift that being gay has ultimately brought me.

Let’s talk about God for just a quick moment. Know that I am a spiritual person but there is no religion here. Not a drop.

You can throw Genesis 19, Leviticus 18 & 20, Romans 1:18-32, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-10 at me all day. The Bible says what it says, but it does not mean anything to me personally. The Bible was a manuscript that was written for an ancient time, in an ancient time and does not take into consideration the advancements in human thought and condition over the many years since its inception. The Bible should not be a standard to compare, govern nor should it be used as a tool ultimately control how people live nowadays. Without discrediting the text itself, I do believe there are great life-lessons to be learned from the Bible about love and how to conduct yourself in a more upright way. However, I believe that taking the current Christian argument to the case of homosexuality is the wrong thing to do. And I will vehemently disagree with anyone who does this. It is damaging. It is hurtful and it adds no real value to anything.

Contrary to what religious types will argue, being gay is not wrong. It is not ungodly; it is not a sin and gay people will not go to Hell- even if there is such a place. Being gay is way more than a physical thing. It is an emotional intelligence, it is the idea of love, acceptance and tolerance that comes with a huge responsibility. Being gay is not defined by who you love or choose to be intimate with or enter into marriage with. It is not a choice; it is a reality, a truth, a tangible thing. It is also a greater expansion of oneself, ones spirit and your ability to express love and accept love.

Saying that I was a repressed gay man until the age of 34 is the understatement of the year. I wanted so desperately to explore my sexuality in high school, when at age 16 I decided that I had struggled long enough with trying to figure out what being gay meant and finally internally accepted that I was.

However, I didn’t have the freedom to operate in or express my sexuality, as a teen in my household, at the time. I got bullied in school for not dating women, so I did, and I eventually married a woman. Several years in, while trying rather unsuccessfully at keeping the charade going and while being accused almost daily of being a closeted gay man- we divorced. I had to lie to my friends and family, I had to create a scenario where I was the good guy and she was the bad guy and she did all these things that contributed to the breakdown in our marriage. I wanted something that I felt like I couldn’t have at the time and I couldn’t be the partner she needed much less deserved. We are both better people apart than we ever were together and marrying her is the single biggest regret in my life.

As I’ve grown older and started to formulate my own opinions and ideas about things, I decided to distance myself from my faith and seek a journey of my own understanding. Part of that journey was finally resolving in this year to come out to friends and family.

I told everyone by the end of July, except my dad. I know his opinion of gay folks- he has made it clear. Nothing derogatory of course, but the ignorance to it shows through sometimes. I also know where he stands from a religious perspective- he has also made that clear. He has accepted my friends who are gay, he wants to meet my new friends who are RubiGirls, see a drag show and he wants to know things or ask things but is sometimes hesitant to do it.

I’ve been on an exposure-therapy campaign with him over the past several months. I put a pride flag in my bedroom, some drag queen paraphernalia went on display, I went to 2 Pride celebrations this year- one in Dayton and the other in Cincinnati. He knows what I’m doing is out of the ordinary for me because I’ve never done it before but have always wanted to and have been interested in it. I wanted to go to a Pride event for many years, but I just couldn’t do it. So, as I’ve slowly been exposing him to things and being a little more vocal about my standpoints and viewpoints on LGBTQIA+ issues in the news and culture, he has started to gather and form an opinion.

Today, I was reading a page on Facebook that stated it was a moderated safe space for individuals who were not out to talk and share their stories. What I read was heartbreaking; just the sheer ignorance of parents and things they say to their children just for being gay. I wanted to talk to dad about it, and I did. I told him some of the terrible things that happened to people- mostly issues between sons and fathers- and he expressed to me his disgust with families disowning children just for being gay. I understand and fully appreciate his comment of “…well, I don’t understand it totally, but I’d want my kid to be happy and healthy. There are bigger ‘crimes’ than being gay.”

This ultimately led into a 90+ minute conversation where I was able to tell him how I felt and my entire 16-year backstory. There is more to discuss between he and I, but my tone was measured and precise. The main thing I needed to say, in order to heal myself, be true to myself and allow myself to advance in my life were these 4 words: Dad, I am gay.

We talked and talked some more. He is not mad, a little confused (which is a normal response), and more reflective. He expressed to me that he wants me to be happy, healthy and to make wise decisions (typical dad advice). He also said he loves me and supports me, and always will, regardless of any decision I make – good or bad – in my life.

What a relief this is! On my first real National Coming Out Day I was able to finish writing the prologue of my story of becoming the person I always knew I could be. I am starting to write the chapters of my new life around all the garbage that is in the past. It’s a new day and I am ready to face it with the full support and love of my parents by my side. I truly am blessed and lucky to have this experience play out as it did. A lot of people do not get what I have, and I am very fortunate.

For those of you who need support in whatever journey you may be on, reach out to me if you feel comfortable in doing so. I’m a safe person to come out to. If you’re reading this and you have questions, contact me too. I’m an open book- ask away. If you’re reading this, and you have nothing positive or of value to say then move on.

Thanks for allowing me to share my life so unfiltered and express that vulnerability on the internet for all to consume. This goes a long way in my healing and with moving forward in my life. And, thank you to all of those who have supported me in the past several months as I have made declarations to you about my life. Your love and support mean the world to me and I can never thank you enough.

Love, Jacob

[astroprojections101]

The Signs as Characters from ‘BRIDESMAIDS’

Annie Walker - Taurus

Bridesmaids is a hilarious and groundbreaking female-driven comedy about addiction and friendship, two things Tauruses know how to do very well. They are loyal and committed people whose reputation as the most boring sign of the zodiac is forgiven for also being the best friends you will ever find on this fucking planet, and they KNOW this dammit!! They wear their friendships like purple hearts, but it also means they can easily get stuck in a rut and indulge in self-destructive habits like fucking terrible people and matching red shoes with red nail polish when the waves get rough. Not to mention it could take years (or a very messy rock bottom) before these bulls get the wake up call they need to make a positive change in their lives, as evidenced by Annie failing to do any of this until Melissa McCarthy literally bites her in the ass while watching Castaway, a movie I am SURE she has seen at least five times. 

They can also be territorial and possessive. While Annie may seem like that down-to-earth, low-maintenance girl who side eyes women that wear $8,000 evening gowns to an afternoon engagement party, on the inside she is a red-faced toddler crossing her arms and stamping her feet because Mom won’t let her play with the iPad. Or, in this case, because her best friend since CHILDHOOD (seriously, who still has friends from childhood? TAURUSES, bitches! + people from the Midwest) is getting married and has, like many grown ass adults sometimes do, ~made another friend~. Suddenly, Annie is forced to, without prior knowledge or consent, confront the bull’s biggest fear: change. Which is a big fat scary no no for a masochistic Taurus who would rather pursue subpar fucks than make baked goods with an emotionally literate Scottish bae. Tauruses like Things As They Are even when they don’t, and Annie Walker is no exception. We stan a true Taurus queen. 

Sorry, Libras. Branding the antagonist of the movie as one may seem counterintuitive for a sign whose entire identity revolves being nice and fair to EVERYONE and liking EVERYONE and getting along with EVERYONE, but that’s exactly why Helen Harris III wins the coveted title of Passive Aggressive Shithead Who Reminds You of 30% Of Your High School: everyone loves her, everyone wants to be her, and who can blame them? As a wise Jeff Winger once said, nerds go to space to impress the people who wore leather jackets in high school. 

And Helen Harris is beautiful. She can pull off wearing an $8,000 evening gown to an afternoon engagement party (almost) without coming off like an asshole. Helen Harris can book spontaneous bridal salon fittings. Helen Harris could eat that fucking cookie (Annie could never). Even if it means gaslighting a woman out of a wedding party, getting bullied by bratty white kids or marrying David Wallace, Libras don’t know who they are without the bliss of knowing their personal brand of outward bullshit is loved and admired by all, even if that means suppressing their true feelings until their next tennis sesh at the Milwaukee country club. Helen proves this when she ugly cries to a woman she socially tormented for the better part of a year, and also proves this when she arranges for Annie’s emotionally literate Scottish bae to pick her up after the wedding. You can’t convince me otherwise. 

Lillian - Virgo 

It’s easy to put Virgos in that Friends Who Have Their Shit Together box, even if underneath that facade they are literally dying inside. But this is what I love about Lillian, who is yes, obviously a Virgo. Lillian is getting married to the man she loves. She curated a bridal party that genuinely knows and loves her. She gets someone like Helen to simp for her. So yes, she is that classic Virgo who doesn’t judge you for not having your shit together but also would never, ever forgive herself for sinking that low. 

But Lillian also manages to laugh when she comes out wearing that Abominable Snowman of a wedding dress. She shits on the street and lives to tell the tale. She is able to make hard choices and set boundaries with her best friend. Lillian doesn’t judge people out of insecurity, because she knows who she is and accepts it. 

I’d like to think there is a Virgo out there, punishing herself because she applied to three jobs instead of two that day, who sees a Lillian and realizes there is a future where she can be a #BossBitch without committing her entire life to proving it to herself and others. I’d like to think there’s a Virgo out there who sees Lillian and realizes she doesn’t have to let her friend copy her homework answers for the fourth consecutive math test because no, she isn’t responsible for her lazy friend’s inability to study ahead of time. Lillian is the representation Virgos desperately need - not just because she is a badass woman, but because she is happy. She is a role model for all of us, and you can’t get more Virgo than that. 

Megan - Aries

This was a hard one. On the one hand, Megan is weird. But let’s be real, an Aquarius could never be entrusted with the codes to every nuke buried underneath the United States. They would take those codes and use it to yeet Mark Zuckerberg out of his 100 million dollar Palo Alto estate within the first hour of signing their W-2 form. No, Megan may be unapologetically Megan as shit, but it’s not because she’s an Aquarius. She’s bold, and forward, and unapologetically Aries. 

Which is odd, considering that an Aries and a Taurus together is, well... an unlikely friendship combo. Both signs are strong-willed and stubborn as hell, but in a way that makes them want to declare war on each other’s egos, not inspire the other into becoming better people. But then again, maybe that’s why their friendship works. Where Annie throws an empty compliment at an overdressed woman she’s already decided she hates, Megan expresses a desire to climb a man five minutes upon meeting Annie. Where Annie sits on a couch watching Castaway instead of addressing her issues the way 35 year old women probably should have learned to do by now, Megan bites ass and reminds her of this this. Where Annie HOLDS IN VOMIT UNTIL SHE HAS DRIVEN MILES AWAY FROM A BRIDAL SALON, Megan shits right into that refurbished marble sink without a second thought. Get where I’m going with this? Megan does what Annie doesn’t, which sometimes is exactly what a Taurus needs to get out of their rut of self-pity. But of course, Megan doesn’t just exist to provide emotional labor to lazy Earth signs. She is an individual truly living her best life, and we love for her for it. Aries women slap like no other.

Rita - Scorpio

Brutally honest and a sexual goddess. What more can you expect from an unhappily married Scorpio? Rita is bold, sexy, and dramatic, who knows how to pack the punches so quick and dirty she can turn a Disney-obsessed woman child into a drunken bisexual as she sips her martini on a first class ticket she bought with her asshole of a husband’s tax fraud money. After all, who else besides a Scorpio would tell a woman she hasn’t seen since high school that her very own flesh and blood masturbated a blanket into oblivion? Scorpios are dark, brooding, and know when they are being taken for granted. Nowhere is this better exemplified than when Rita spills the piping hot tea on her shitty family that can’t see her for the goddess she truly is. Rita, you deserve better. 

Becca - Pisces

Erin Kemper has a long history of playing maladaptively naive characters, but I will bet my next unemployment check that Erin based her performance of Becca entirely off a Pisces description she found on Cafeastrology.com. Because there is literally nothing more Pisces than Becca. The hair, the clothes, the willingness to go through hospital levels of self-sanitization for her husband so that she can finally bone? Trying to convince herself she’s also too tired so that she doesn’t have to admit to herself that her husband is an emotionally and sexually unavailable failure of a man who can’t give her what she needs until she experiences a sexual awakening 2,000 miles up in the air with her Scorpio biffle??? Yup. Pisces to a P. 

Rhodes - Cancer

Aww, Rhodes. So sweet. So awkward. Why did they have to make you a cop?

Can we talk about why it is that almost every leading man who is emotionally mature and secure in his masculinity ALWAYS seems to elicit Cancerous vibes, even if they’re clearly not a Cancer? Actual Cancer men, take note. Rhodes  pursues respectfully. He calls, even after Annie doesn’t call back. Rhodes attempts exposure therapy on a woman he has had sex with once. Rhodes WOULD get ghosted by 80% of the women he meets on dating apps (including Annie, let’s be real), and we love him for it. Because cancers are just that loving and loyal! So yes, we can excuse him for getting a stick up his butt sometimes when someone drops a perfectly biodegradable vegetable on the ground. He more than makes up for it. 

Annie’s mom - Gemini 

Geminis are either terrible or the best people you’ll ever meet, and Annie’s mom is one of the rare few that falls into that in-between category of chaotic good, adorable Gemini doing her best not to drive everyone she’s ever loved away with what little self-awareness she has about her Gemininess. Annie’s mom is bubbly, chatty, and queen of the chisme. She uses logic to justify calling her ex husband’s wife a whore, and talks like she has a doctorate degree in the unsolicited advice she offers her daughter. Until at least, she’s introduced to a sweet man, and all that logic and wordiness melts away into a gooey puddle of all those emotions she likes to think she’s above. 

Bryn - Aquarius

There are a lot of stand out heroines in this movie, but none of them beat the comedic genius that is Bryn, an incestuous roommate Annie probably dug up from Craiglist’s seventh circle of hell. Aquari are trail blazing, unconventional, and friendly enough to distract you from the fact that their brain cells came from aliens. Bryn is no exception. Even an impulsive Aries would look at the opportunity to get an offensively tacky tattoo in the back of a van and think, “I’ll get Starbucks instead.” But an Aquarius thrives on making people uncomfortable with their Society Has To Catch Up To Me complex, and Bryn is no exception. After all, if they’re not scandalizing their depressed roommate with xenophobic tattoos and baths with their brother, then who even are they? A sheep, that’s who. 

13 year old - Sagittarius 

This specific breed of popular mean girl is either a Gemini or Sagittarius. I have nothing to back up this claim, but watching that horrible girl verbally spar her way into getting a 35 year old woman fired from a jewelry store is enough to turn me into a believer. That’s why it was so hard to pinpoint a sign for her. On one hand, this girl is probably responsible for the social anxiety of at least a dozen ex-BFFs. She also clearly knows how to use words to make someone wish they had never been born, so I can accept that this insecure adult’s worst nightmare has a few placements of mercurial badassery in her chart. 

But the truth hurts, and no one knows how to finesse the truth like a Sag, who either doesn’t know what they’re doing when they tell a customer service rep they have no boobs, or they know exactly. Anyway, don’t project your friendship drama onto an undeveloped Sagittarius child, Annie. Or tell them they’re going to be pregnant at their prom (yikes). You do not know what you’re getting yourself into. 

Annie’s Mystery Man - Capricorn

The sports jacket. The pipe. The vibes. This guy probably cured cancer back in the day and still hated himself for not figuring it out until he was 30. You could also totally tell he was sizing Annie up to see if she met his expectations of People Worth His Time (she didn’t). Capricorn man, you are right. None of us deserve you. RIP Hugh Dane.

[2centsofsilver]

2am (Evening of 1/18)

Open Letter to My Parents (in the works of my head) Dear Mom and Dad, I don’t know why this is happening to us. I’m sorry that I have a mental disorder. Honestly with you, those features - the really bad ones - the ones where those misdiagnoses happened - the outliers that don’t appear among relationships with me and everyone else - come through in our relations: Screaming episodes any time we’re together, verbal expression of extreme opposition, cutting insults (the kind one could never forgive another for), severe anger issues and the type of disorientation one with BPD exhibits (expressions of not being rooted in reality, not hearing the other person, deliberately re-directing conversations, but coming off as stupid/blind/naive), the whole “I love you/I hate you” feature, threats from you that you’ll disown me as your daughter, threats from me that I’ll abandon you as my family, sibling sidings, threats to kill myself, blaming you for wanting to kill myself, the list goes on. Honestly, I feel things are at their absolute worst- the worst they’ve EVER been. I no longer cry or am emotionally affected/saddened by our exchanges. I no longer have that “fear of abandonment” feature (but I have it with my friends). I know my friends are there for me and that is where my support system lies. I love you very very much, but your love is conditional. If you know how much heart your daughter has, like if you knew her, you (maybe) would like her? Like if you changed though too. Because right now your love is conditional: You love me if I am ___ or do ____ or stop doing ____. I believe that any issues in a relationship are ALWAYS two way streets. So I’m willing to take 50% of the blame. But because I’m your daughter, there’s a level system there, so I feel more comfortable taking 40%. Maybe you feel the same way, with your level system on the other side, and you’re comfortable taking 40%. I know it’s less though. You do not see relationships as two way streets. You do not own up to all the ways in which you’ve hurt me. You DISCOUNT every single thing you’ve ever done that has remotely negatively influenced me. You also just flat out don’t believe you ever have. And instead, I’m the bad one, I’m a shitty daughter, there’s something wrong with ME for thinking that, for seeing it that way, for trying to see it *fairly*. If anything you blame yourselves for the countless ways in which you’ve “failed” as parents, raising such a “despicable” daughter.  You never failed, but I’m not despicable. If you felt my heart, if you were inside me, if you felt the pain I feel on a daily basis constantly being abandoned by friends who I thought cared about me, constantly having anxiety over day-to-day situations, constantly feeling inadequate, not good enough, and constantly needing validation from others. If you knew what it was like for 1 person to struggle with any form of mental illness, physical illness, handicap, what have you. Or if you had any appreciation for or AWARENESS of or acceptance of marginalization. If you could own up to the ways in which you fall into the trap of stigamatization. I honestly don’t know who you’d be. Would you even be my parents anymore? I often see on social media - Facebook - parents commenting on their children’s posts, publicly saying how “proud they are” of their sons or daughters. Or directly, publicly, telling their children those same words. Or just liking their posts and sharing their posts and being fun and funky and silly and sweet. There comes a time in life as people grow up and older that that level system from “dominance/authority” to “equality/admiration” shifts drastically. There comes a time, I’ve noticed, when parents become their children’s friends and their children openly love and accept that and are no longer self-conscious of it in front of others. There comes this time that never happened for us and I’m really worried it never will happen for us, when you’re supposed to start hopping around and telling people you know, when they ask how Katie’s doing, all the great things she’s doing in life and where she’s headed. You’re supposed to get excited like I am. There comes a time when you’re supposed to come over to my house and say, “How have you been? We’ve missed you.” Or “How’s your application process coming along? We’re happy for you.” There are these beautiful shooting stars that go off in the midnight sky when moms want to “get to know” their daughters. That level system changes, it equals out, it becomes more human-to-human. I don’t know what to do, but I feel sick about it day to day. Things have drastically gotten worse in the last few years, but they’ve always been bad. You don’t believe me? You’re in denial. They’ve been bad since I entered high school. You still treat me like you did 12 years ago. And you’re going to do it to my brother too, that’s why he wants to run away, travel north, all the way up there, to get away from you and live independently. He wants his own space, his own time, his life back. It’s why I don’t visit home much anymore, why I don’t call you for weeks on end, why I don’t want to talk to you about things. I don’t know how that comes off regarding my personality -- I mean, you must know that I’m not the same way with my friends, co-workers, bosses, teachers, right? I know you think I repeatedly go into therapy complaining and bitching about my “horrible parents,” the ones who “don’t love me,” or “did this and that.” But that’s not true. I rarely talk about you because I can’t or when I do, it’s “I don’t know what to do. I’m a bad daughter. I want our relationship to be better.” Let’s date back to middle school or high school from the academic perspective. Parent teacher conferences, or whatever. All the ways in which my teachers raved about me, my artwork in the hallway, all those things that marveled and dazzled you as parents. That’s still me. Sometimes, I worry I’ve lost myself too, like in for instance, the case of me no longer pursuing English teaching or writing. But I’ve found other interests. YOU instilled that in me growing up, by exposing me to hundreds of thousands of activities and experiences. You’re the ones who taught me to love more than one thing, to constantly explore, learn, and grow. You’re the one who taught me how to be myself, how to find my identity, but you never taught me much about how to influence others, that came through my exposures to good experiences and the good heart I was born with, maybe my love for nature and art, our love when I was a young child, and definitely my loving grandparents. So I used to be this like, “perfect” student or whatever. Did that disappear when I didn’t go to Hope College? I got straight A’s in community college instead. I’m getting off track here -- let’s date back to that academic perspective from when I was younger. That’s still me. Like she exists inside me. I still love music, writing, art, nature, going to Glen Arbor, being with my family, school, funny jokes. I’m sorry that I gave up clarinet and piano and didn’t pursue journalism after managing the high school publications. I’m sorry that I no longer *talk about?* writing -- but I still do it. I try to write every day. And I’m still going to be a published author one day, even if you disagree with my content.  I have always cared about other people more than I care about myself. I have always been social, a people person, even though I was shy. I always had a lot of friends until the antisemitism arose in high school. You hated me for that. Is that when it started? You hated me for “choosing those friends” who would ultimately do that to me and to our family. But I was happy before it happened, dad. I was a thriving teenager who had the best summer of her life before that. She was living her dream, everything she ever wanted to be. She didn’t know it was going to happen. She didn’t “choose” antisemitic friends who she knew would bully her and trespass our lawn and drive me off the road and stalk our house at night. She didn’t know. Do you blame them or do you blame me? I wanted to go to therapy in the 9th grade because I had really bad social anxiety disorder. I couldn’t look at any one in the hallways, couldn’t answer questions in class, couldn’t give presentations, and I think I missed over 50 days of school that year because I could not face the inside of that high school. I wanted to go to therapy to get help and be happy again. My god, FOR YEARS, the THEME of my therapy sessions among ALL my therapists has been “Confidence and Happiness.” I want to be “Happy and Confident” (Depression and Anxiety's opposites). YOU’RE THE ONE who went out of your way to find me a therapist you knew through someone else. I loved that therapist. I ended up seeing her for 7 years and she changed my life. I’m guessing it bothered you that you had a young daughter who was struggling. And I know you were happy to hear that I loved my therapist and that our sessions were working. I remember distinctly telling mom about the “Anxiety Toolkit” stuff. I remember she used to ask me, and I would tell her, and I was excited about my progress and applying the strategies we came up with during my day-to-day attempts to get through high school. I don’t know at what point you stopped being affected by my hardships. I’m not by any means saying they should “still break your heart,” I’m saying I don’t know at what point you developed this idea that, “Therapy fixes people. Why isn’t she fixed yet?” Every single truth for me in my life is countered by responses that I cannot even begin to fathom comprehension for. Like I try very hard to understand where you’re getting this information from or why you might feel the way you do. I’m very conscientious in my efforts to see things from your angles and understand why you might be feeling the way you do. But like, my depression has gotten drastically worse (or more developed?) over the course of the last 10 or so years. It has depleted me, exhausted me, and defeated me. I honestly feel physically weakened anytime I even try to think these things through anymore. Like my shoulders drop and I just don’t have it in me anymore. I have become hardened to all pain, a concrete wall (I used to say this when I was 14), and incredibly resilient beyond my years. I have been through so much turmoil inside me that I had to grow up far sooner than a lot of people my own age. I am grateful for that, for I cannot imagine being so god damn behind in life, but it also has hardened me, made me stoic, it’s the reason I don’t have much positivity or enthusiasm in life, like there really isn’t a point and it’s a state impossible for me to feel. I try, don’t get me wrong, I really do try. Every day I try to make it a good day. But I am tired, do you understand? My mind, body, and soul are tired.  “That’s because you need to lose weight.” You might say. I guess I could use that topic as a phenomenol example of how exhausting it is to get through any half a minute of conversation with you. Like if we’re at the table and I’m trying to talk to you about something important and I mention I’m tired, you’d probably respond with that. And you’d divert the conversation almost immediately to the point where there’s no way I could ever get out of that new topic. Immediately, I’m forced to defend myself: “I AM losing weight. I just joined a new gym, I’m on the 21 day fix. I go to the gym every day, for a whole year now! A YEAR.” “Well clearly it’s not working,” you’d chuckle. “If you’d just start eating right, if you’d just start exercising...” It’s a great example because it demonstrates your disoriented view of how change is immediate or black and white. You’ve never believed me or believed in the concept of change happening gradually, over time. I know your deadlines are “asap,” but you have to accept that it’s probably going to take the course of the rest of my life for me to be happy, try to be happy, find happiness. Things will always be hard for me because I’ve seen too much, experienced too much. Even when I do finally reach happiness one day or whatever, things will still suck. Because the whole world affects me differently than other people. Everything is interconnected. I am vastly influenced by every person I’ve ever met. And when I grieve, I grieve those people for years. I have to give myself permission to grieve too, even when I feel I’ve surpassed my deadlines. Extended my deadlines, surpassed them again. It takes a long time for pain to fade, I might never get through to the people who have hurt me, but time eventually will make those memories fuzzy. In time, maybe I’ll only think about them once a week, or once a month. For now though, I grieve. There is so much going on inside me that you could never possibly understand because you don’t believe in mental illness. You also don’t believe in mental health practitioners. You hate who I am and how I am and resent me for all my therapy and how hard I try every day. You want me to be different and I am working on myself all the time, and I need assistance to function. I’m sorry. I also need assistance because I need support because I can’t get through life without people who are there for me. If you had any idea how fucking alone I am, even surrounded by so much support lately, I’m pretty sure it would kill you. Or any breathing person who’s not you. Like I honestly have no idea what it would be like for you to experience me because you have zero empathy when it comes to other people’s personal problems. You’re like a fucking Behavior Analyst. You’re everything wrong with the field. You judge only based off what you can see. You come over to my apartment, you see the way I live, you think it’s as easy as just changing my environment, as easy as just “stopping.” You don’t believe in thoughts, feelings, or emotions. You make fun of people with developmental disabilities or physical disabilities. You don’t believe in depression. Like how can you not believe in the one driving force that makes me who I am, that makes life SO fucking hard for me, that interferes with every aspect of my life, YOU SEE the effects. It’s mind-boggling. You don’t believe int he source, you think it’s ME. The other fucking night we were out to dinner in Kzoo, and we were fighting in public which is our new trend, and dad, you literally told me that the mental health field is a wasted field, helping people is all a wasted effort, that mental illness doesn't exist, and that I am literally wasting my future and the rest of my life by committing myself to helping others get better and make the most out of life. Saying that, you aren’t just referencing third person ideas and concepts. You are directly cutting me in so many capacities: You are discounting my personal journey, my efforts, my day-to-day battles, my long-term goals, my progress, my pain, and my commitment to helping others live a happy life. I don’t know how that isn’t something to be proud of. How do you not believe in being selfless? Mom’s a teacher! I used to really really want you to be proud of me. I’ve now found that it’s not possible, so I can only be proud of myself. I know that I have a lot of people in my life who are proud of me and excited for me and all that I’m going for in my life. But I’m concerned. My 25 year old adult self who has felt 57 since age 14 is concerned.  I am about to go off to grad school because I feel now is the time. I am also ready for adventure because while yes, I still struggle with depression, I feel I’m better now than I ever have been and I’m ready and feel capable, with the promise of resources wherever I go, that I’ll be ok. That I can do this.  What I do know is that oftentimes, children and parents stop getting along and no longer continue to try. Somehow, they just stop loving each other. I’m not willing to let that happen to us, even if it already has on your end. I still love you, I will always love you, no matter what. And I am not willing to travel across the country with our problems they way they are. You’re not willing to change, to even accept that there are any issues in our family. You don’t believe in therapy so you’d never consider family therapy. And you say I’m one of those fake professionals who wants to “bring people closer” and “families together” when it’s not possible. You say you’re too old to mend things with me, dad. What does that mean? Do you know since I was really little, my biggest fear in the entire world has been my parents dying? I DON’T WANT YOU to get old or sick and not fucking know how much I always loved you. How sorry I am. And how badly I wish I could be everything you wanted me to always be. But I just can’t travel thousands upon thousands of miles away with our issues where they stand. I will not be ok where I end up, but I’ll be better, knowing I have a supportive family and that we’re “good.” We don’t have to be perfect, but even if we’re just “good.” I have mental illnesses, mom and dad. Like whether you believe that’s possible or not, but I do. I call them that because with names, they’re treatable, and I can get help and support from others who have been there or are trained to help me. I have been diagnosed by doctors who know what they’re doing (you’re all science), and I’m on medication that has been carefully chosen by the best psychiatrist in southwest Michigan, and it works. Without it, I would have killed myself in 2011. I am ready to travel to the other side of the country now, to live my life and feel adventure while I still can. I want to fall in love, get married, have children, start a career, and be successful. I want to travel and explore the world and become the even better me that you always dreamed I’d be, but for myself and the others in my life or career that I’ll be helping. Like anyone else, I’m allowed to experience experiences. I’m ready. And whether or not you can be happy for me, we need to be good, because without support from the root source of where I derived, without support from the direct source of where I’m from, who I am, where I’ve come from, and who I can always turn back to if things were to ever go wrong for me on the other side of the country, my emergency contacts; or the people who I love very much, who I care for very much, who I will be taking care of when you’re not your finest, when you grow older and need my help, I will be there. So without us being good, I cannot go off and see the world. I will be in pain for life without us being good. I know you hurt too, so why can’t we work on us. Why can’t we just figure out a way to do this.  3:35am, Interview at 10:30. Goodnight.

[stiles-wtf]

8 Things to Remember When Fighting Cancer in Dogs

The post 8 Things to Remember When Fighting Cancer in Dogs by Julia Szabo appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren’t considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

Pamela Mitchell’s Dogster article “10 Things I Tell People Who Just Learned Their Dog Has Cancer” really hit home for me. Cancer has threatened my dog family twice. We fought back, and cancer lost both times. My beloved Sam and Tiki have both crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but it wasn’t cancer that sent them there, and they lived to 17 and 14, respectively. I’d like to share my experience and suggest some alternative therapies that worked for me in the hope it may help when fighting cancer in dogs.

Photography by Shutterstock.

1. First Step: Fight Back Against Your Dog’s Cancer!

Don’t accept that cancer will win. I’ve found it helps to visualize cancer in dogs as a relentless, hungry monster with an army of millions as backup. Like the villain in a horror movie, it only appears dead when you think it’s been whacked — the minute you turn your back, it rises again. My brilliant, beloved friend-sistah, the cartoonist and author Marisa Acocella Marchetto, aka Cancer Vixen, kicked cancer’s bony butt and wrote an inspirational graphic memoir about it.

Take a page from Marisa’s book. Why not give cancer the face of the loser who hassled you every day in school? Then, for your dog’s sweet sake, fight that bully with all you’ve got. I’ve heard too many people say that cancer is “a death sentence,” and I’ve heard people repeat platitudes along the lines of, “If it’s God’s will ….” Forgive me, but I don’t buy either sentiment. Time to take the power away from cancer. Fight it to win. No prisoners!

2. Explore Alternative Remedies for Cancer in Dogs

Cancer in dogs is expensive. And here’s a disturbing truth: If you have a big dog, the price adjusts up accordingly. This doesn’t mean you need to give up — far from it.

In rosier economic times, my then-husband and I opted to treat our dog Sam with surgeries and conventional chemo, which set us back close to $30,000 and caused Sam a great deal of pain, not to mention terrible nausea and diarrhea. All that misery and resultant penury, yet Sam’s cancer returned.

After that, I went online and researched other options for cancer in dogs. Working with two brilliant homeopathic veterinarians, I opted to have Sam treated with an alternative chemotherapy called Neoplasene. Formulated with alkaloids from the bloodroot plant, Neoplasene attacks cancer cells but leaves healthy tissue unharmed (conventional chemo works by going after all cells, and healthy ones die in the process). I’ve found Neoplasene to be kinder to the dog patient, and easier on the wallet.

3. With Cancer in Dogs, You Are What You Eat

Dogster reader “4titans” left this very valuable comment on Pam’s article: “Also you may want to look into the Dog Cancer diet. Although my oncologist does not personally recommend it, there is an interesting theory about less carbs and no sugar, more fat and high quality protein that can aid your pet and help stop the spread of cancer. (It’s said that cancer cells feed off of sugar, and the sugar produced by carbs; but they cannot feed on fat.) I put my doggins on it.”

4titans is right on the money. There are certain foods the cancer monster hates, so it’s is less likely to feed on an animal that eats those foods. Hopefully, you’re eating healthy, so go ahead and give some of your healthy grub to your brave, cancer-fighting dog. Anti-cancer foods that are safe to share with dogs include protein, fat (excellent sources include coconut oil and olive oil), asparagus, broccoli, cauliflower, collard greens, burdock, and blueberries.

4. Avoid These Foods for Dogs with Cancer

If you’re hosting a party, you provide food the guests will like so they’ll stick around, right? Well, picture your dog’s body as a party site being crashed by cancer cells. Catering to cancer in dogs is the last thing you want to do.

Cancer loves sugar, carbs, and processed proteins (that includes stuff like hot dogs, ham, and bologna, obviously, but also — hello! — dog treats such as pig’s ears, rawhides, and the like). Now is a fine time to eliminate all those items from Spot’s diet.

And please, no greasy drive-thru snacks — especially not the fries! Avoid all fried foods if you want to beat cancer, including potato chips and corn chips. Now is also a good time to evict all chemical preservatives, especially the carcinogenic preservative Ethoxyquin, which is used to preserve many brands of dry and canned pet food. Please, no cookies, candy, or cupcakes for the canine, no matter how aerobically she begs. If you want to get really hardcore, avoid all sweet veggies too, such as corn, carrots, and peas, and super-sweet fruit such as bananas. To reward my dogs’ acts of valor at the vet’s office, I sometimes pan-sear a burger or steak in coconut oil.

5. Switch Over to Dietary Supplements That Fight Cancer in Dogs

Maybe you don’t believe in dietary supplements as part of a healthy lifestyle. Well, I do believe in them, and that belief governs how I care for my dogs. When your dog battles cancer, his or her immune system must martial all its reserves to combat this invading army of cancer cells.

It’s your job to help support your dog’s immune system so it can successfully ward off the evil invader cancer. And that means providing immune-supportive supplements. Curcumin has been scientifically proven to fight cancer. Probiotics are also key, as studies show that these beneficial bacteria exhibit anticancer activity.

6. Reduce Exposure to Carcinogens

We are all exposed to environmental toxins on a daily basis, but our dogs are smaller than we are and don’t live as long as we do, so they feel those toxins’ impact faster and harder. With a little vigilance, you can reduce your dog’s exposure.

For example, use pet shampoo that contains no sulphates, parabens, or phthalates; avoid topical pesticides that contain chemicals and substitute them with the safe, effective biopesticide neem; avoid smoke from cigarettes and cigars; and steer clear of automobile exhaust pipes, which are scarily positioned at a dog’s snout level.

Also, know that certain pet products — including the inflatable alternative to the so-called “cone of shame” — are made of PVC, a known carcinogen. If my dog is battling cancer, PVC is the last substance I would strap to her neck!

7. Cut Down on Killer Stress When Your Dog Has Cancer

Stress is a destroyer of dogs as much as it is of humans, so do try to make your dog’s life as stress-free as possible. Talk to your dog in soothing, upbeat tones, using plain English (as Tim Link’s must-read “Taking a Vacation? Tell Your Dogs About It!” article reminds us to do), and coach your canine constantly with positive messages. Say, “Today is the day we kick cancer’s butt,” and mean it!

Provide lots of fun chew toys and soft bedding materials, and launder the bedding often. Play soothing classical music, or whatever tunes your dogs dig — mine enjoy a healing soundtrack by harpist Susan Raimond. The music will help you, too. And, since you’re the one under the most stress right now, please remember to do something kind for yourself.

8. Don’t Ever Think You’re Done with It

I’ve seen otherwise rational, intelligent human cancer survivors cover their ears like the elders in Planet of the Apes when anyone tries to discuss preventing a recurrence through healthy diet and/or supplements. “I don’t have cancer anymore!” they say. This is abject denial. No cancer survivor — canine or human — is ever completely cancer-free.

It takes constant vigilance to keep this horror-show monster out of the picture. But trust me, it can be done! For your dog’s sake, keep up the fight. Don’t let your guard down, even for a minute. Good luck.

Have you ever dealt with cancer in dogs? What was your experience like? Let us know in the comments!

This piece was originally published in 2017.

Read more about cancer in dogs:

Can Vaccines Cause Cancer in Dogs?

10 Things I Tell People Who Just Learned Their Dog Has Cancer

How to Keep Your Healthy Dog Happy When His Sibling Is Sick

Editor’s note: This story originally ran in October of 2012. It offers some excellent advice, so we’re showcasing it again.

The post 8 Things to Remember When Fighting Cancer in Dogs by Julia Szabo appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren’t considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

[daddyslittlejuliet]

8 Things to Remember When Fighting Cancer in Dogs

The post 8 Things to Remember When Fighting Cancer in Dogs by Julia Szabo appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren’t considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

Pamela Mitchell’s Dogster article “10 Things I Tell People Who Just Learned Their Dog Has Cancer” really hit home for me. Cancer has threatened my dog family twice. We fought back, and cancer lost both times. My beloved Sam and Tiki have both crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but it wasn’t cancer that sent them there, and they lived to 17 and 14, respectively. I’d like to share my experience and suggest some alternative therapies that worked for me in the hope it may help when fighting cancer in dogs.

Photography by Shutterstock.

1. First Step: Fight Back Against Your Dog’s Cancer!

Don’t accept that cancer will win. I’ve found it helps to visualize cancer in dogs as a relentless, hungry monster with an army of millions as backup. Like the villain in a horror movie, it only appears dead when you think it’s been whacked — the minute you turn your back, it rises again. My brilliant, beloved friend-sistah, the cartoonist and author Marisa Acocella Marchetto, aka Cancer Vixen, kicked cancer’s bony butt and wrote an inspirational graphic memoir about it.

Take a page from Marisa’s book. Why not give cancer the face of the loser who hassled you every day in school? Then, for your dog’s sweet sake, fight that bully with all you’ve got. I’ve heard too many people say that cancer is “a death sentence,” and I’ve heard people repeat platitudes along the lines of, “If it’s God’s will ….” Forgive me, but I don’t buy either sentiment. Time to take the power away from cancer. Fight it to win. No prisoners!

2. Explore Alternative Remedies for Cancer in Dogs

Cancer in dogs is expensive. And here’s a disturbing truth: If you have a big dog, the price adjusts up accordingly. This doesn’t mean you need to give up — far from it.

In rosier economic times, my then-husband and I opted to treat our dog Sam with surgeries and conventional chemo, which set us back close to $30,000 and caused Sam a great deal of pain, not to mention terrible nausea and diarrhea. All that misery and resultant penury, yet Sam’s cancer returned.

After that, I went online and researched other options for cancer in dogs. Working with two brilliant homeopathic veterinarians, I opted to have Sam treated with an alternative chemotherapy called Neoplasene. Formulated with alkaloids from the bloodroot plant, Neoplasene attacks cancer cells but leaves healthy tissue unharmed (conventional chemo works by going after all cells, and healthy ones die in the process). I’ve found Neoplasene to be kinder to the dog patient, and easier on the wallet.

3. With Cancer in Dogs, You Are What You Eat

Dogster reader “4titans” left this very valuable comment on Pam’s article: “Also you may want to look into the Dog Cancer diet. Although my oncologist does not personally recommend it, there is an interesting theory about less carbs and no sugar, more fat and high quality protein that can aid your pet and help stop the spread of cancer. (It’s said that cancer cells feed off of sugar, and the sugar produced by carbs; but they cannot feed on fat.) I put my doggins on it.”

4titans is right on the money. There are certain foods the cancer monster hates, so it’s is less likely to feed on an animal that eats those foods. Hopefully, you’re eating healthy, so go ahead and give some of your healthy grub to your brave, cancer-fighting dog. Anti-cancer foods that are safe to share with dogs include protein, fat (excellent sources include coconut oil and olive oil), asparagus, broccoli, cauliflower, collard greens, burdock, and blueberries.

4. Avoid These Foods for Dogs with Cancer

If you’re hosting a party, you provide food the guests will like so they’ll stick around, right? Well, picture your dog’s body as a party site being crashed by cancer cells. Catering to cancer in dogs is the last thing you want to do.

Cancer loves sugar, carbs, and processed proteins (that includes stuff like hot dogs, ham, and bologna, obviously, but also — hello! — dog treats such as pig’s ears, rawhides, and the like). Now is a fine time to eliminate all those items from Spot’s diet.

And please, no greasy drive-thru snacks — especially not the fries! Avoid all fried foods if you want to beat cancer, including potato chips and corn chips. Now is also a good time to evict all chemical preservatives, especially the carcinogenic preservative Ethoxyquin, which is used to preserve many brands of dry and canned pet food. Please, no cookies, candy, or cupcakes for the canine, no matter how aerobically she begs. If you want to get really hardcore, avoid all sweet veggies too, such as corn, carrots, and peas, and super-sweet fruit such as bananas. To reward my dogs’ acts of valor at the vet’s office, I sometimes pan-sear a burger or steak in coconut oil.

5. Switch Over to Dietary Supplements That Fight Cancer in Dogs

Maybe you don’t believe in dietary supplements as part of a healthy lifestyle. Well, I do believe in them, and that belief governs how I care for my dogs. When your dog battles cancer, his or her immune system must martial all its reserves to combat this invading army of cancer cells.

It’s your job to help support your dog’s immune system so it can successfully ward off the evil invader cancer. And that means providing immune-supportive supplements. Curcumin has been scientifically proven to fight cancer. Probiotics are also key, as studies show that these beneficial bacteria exhibit anticancer activity.

6. Reduce Exposure to Carcinogens

We are all exposed to environmental toxins on a daily basis, but our dogs are smaller than we are and don’t live as long as we do, so they feel those toxins’ impact faster and harder. With a little vigilance, you can reduce your dog’s exposure.

For example, use pet shampoo that contains no sulphates, parabens, or phthalates; avoid topical pesticides that contain chemicals and substitute them with the safe, effective biopesticide neem; avoid smoke from cigarettes and cigars; and steer clear of automobile exhaust pipes, which are scarily positioned at a dog’s snout level.

Also, know that certain pet products — including the inflatable alternative to the so-called “cone of shame” — are made of PVC, a known carcinogen. If my dog is battling cancer, PVC is the last substance I would strap to her neck!

7. Cut Down on Killer Stress When Your Dog Has Cancer

Stress is a destroyer of dogs as much as it is of humans, so do try to make your dog’s life as stress-free as possible. Talk to your dog in soothing, upbeat tones, using plain English (as Tim Link’s must-read “Taking a Vacation? Tell Your Dogs About It!” article reminds us to do), and coach your canine constantly with positive messages. Say, “Today is the day we kick cancer’s butt,” and mean it!

Provide lots of fun chew toys and soft bedding materials, and launder the bedding often. Play soothing classical music, or whatever tunes your dogs dig — mine enjoy a healing soundtrack by harpist Susan Raimond. The music will help you, too. And, since you’re the one under the most stress right now, please remember to do something kind for yourself.

8. Don’t Ever Think You’re Done with It

I’ve seen otherwise rational, intelligent human cancer survivors cover their ears like the elders in Planet of the Apes when anyone tries to discuss preventing a recurrence through healthy diet and/or supplements. “I don’t have cancer anymore!” they say. This is abject denial. No cancer survivor — canine or human — is ever completely cancer-free.

It takes constant vigilance to keep this horror-show monster out of the picture. But trust me, it can be done! For your dog’s sake, keep up the fight. Don’t let your guard down, even for a minute. Good luck.

Have you ever dealt with cancer in dogs? What was your experience like? Let us know in the comments!

This piece was originally published in 2017.

Read more about cancer in dogs:

Can Vaccines Cause Cancer in Dogs?

10 Things I Tell People Who Just Learned Their Dog Has Cancer

How to Keep Your Healthy Dog Happy When His Sibling Is Sick

Editor’s note: This story originally ran in October of 2012. It offers some excellent advice, so we’re showcasing it again.

The post 8 Things to Remember When Fighting Cancer in Dogs by Julia Szabo appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren’t considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

[cummunication]

Unrequited Love

Believe it or not I have been rejected consistently throughout the years. I say believe it or not, not because I think I’m hot shit but because when I say this, people assume I’m fishing for compliments or being modest. & although I do consider myself a humble person, you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve been turned down. This doesn’t only pertain to men, but in general. Rejection is a normal, expected part of life. Yet when it becomes a constant, it serves more as a bully in your ear instead of something to build character. I remember once I was in Hollister with an old best friend when the cashier began telling her how beautiful she was and asked if she’d be interested in a position. In the meantime, I was right there secretly furious because I would never measure up . Guys would come up to me and tell me to give my friend their phone number or they’d approach and remind me how pretty she was. People used to say we looked alike but I was like the less hot twin. This happens a lot too with my sister. There’s been too many times to remember when I’ve been out with her and girls come up and say how talented she is, or how stylish she dresses. I know I shouldn’t be complaining when I go out looking like I’ve never seen a hairbrush but it only adds to my already existing feelings of inadequacy. I’ve even been rejected from a treatment center, being told I was not thin enough to receive help for my eating disorder. Therapists have turned me away saying they cannot help me, I am too complex. I am not blind to the fact that rejection is not solely my problem, and we all deal with it from time to time. I have been guided in the direction of appreciating rejection more than loathing it, which used to be the case. My worst fear was without a doubt, rejection. It is often said that to overcome your fears, you must face them, head on. Rejection isn’t always pleasant but can be a great teacher, and in 23 years, has assisted me along my path. We all have initial childhood wounds which are our primary scars that have the ability to block us. We may be consciously or unconsciously aware of these traumas [also known as Big T or Little T trauma] and if we do not acknowledge them, they can subconsciously run our lives by influencing our behavior in a counter-intuitive way. The first time I ever felt rejected was when I found out I was adopted (this is a different topic and I’m going to address it in the near future) In therapy, I am told time and time again this has a lot to do with my abandonment issues and avoidant attachment style. I remember at a young age feeling discarded and unloved by my parents. Not knowing anything about motherhood or parenting as a kid, I assumed I had to be inherently damaged to be given away. It got worse as the years went along. I outwardly projected my feelings of unworthiness and didn’t expect others to reciprocate love. The self-defeating prophecy became my new best friend. It wasn’t really until college when I began to learn through sex education, that I noticed guys I took interest in liked me back more often than not, or at least were willing to give me a chance. There was never anything wrong with me, just like there is nothing wrong with you. When I was younger, I struggled with severe social anxiety. I was shy and awkward and assumed people didn’t talk to me because they were repulsed. In actuality, now I know if you initiate conversation and act friendly, people will most likely be warm in return. I really want you to develop an inner peace and sense of self before you go looking to others to make you happy since this my friend, will only end in disaster. If I can recall, in October I was ignored by a guy I was lusting after and surprisingly, I laughed and cared a lot less than I imagined. I was so grateful I didn’t take it personally and re framed it to be “his loss” instead of mine. I love myself, and I’m my own biggest fan. So if he’s not interested, he has bad taste and it’s a turn off anyway [sort of kidding]. We can’t control how people respond to us but we get to decide how we react. When circumstances don’t go our way, our automatic thoughts can either help or hurt us. I learned my ANTS; automatic negative thoughts, got me nowhere in the past. They would send me spiraling backwards and blame everything on myself. Don’t get me wrong, anytime our admiration is not returned, it’s painful because it makes us feel defensive & unwanted. I am a firm believer that somethings aren’t meant to be and certain events or relationships, jobs, whatever, don’t work out for a reason. If we work with this framework, remember it’s in your best interest. At the time, this can be hard to grasp and you may not see it, but God could be saving you from who knows what. This person may not be in your path or the school you were hoping to get into might not have served you; you have to believe in things you can’t see. I mean, we can’t really expect every single person we go for to be our perfect match right? That’s delusional and narcissistic to think we are the best for everybody. Numerous males have swerved me along the way; ranging from ghosting, to calling me a bovine (this means cow) to asking me out as a joke, and at times I think to myself “damn girl, you really need to re-evaluate your taste.” This is probably true, however since I was young and foolish; I had no business wanting these guys. I didn’t even know them… it was more infatuation. People could say everything happens for a reason, or whatever they so choose. I guess we’ll never really know. But rejection can be fun and exciting because it means you are taking chances and not letting fear hold you back. Think of the worst case scenario and the best. Does the good outweigh the bad? They say the biggest risks hold the biggest rewards (don’t know who did, but it’s a quote). We live once, and if a stranger turns you down, at least you know instead of wondering month after month what could’ve been. Since you’re reading this, I assume you’re fucking assume so don’t mind them, they missed out. We never know until we try, and Jia Jiang, author of “Rejection Proof” proves to us that exposure to rejection, may actually be beneficial if we make it a sort of experiment like he did www.rejectiontherapy.com Trust me, you will not die if you are rejected. I don’t know if I believe what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but in the case of rejection, I am proof it in fact, does.

[time-fury]

Why I did Movember - My Shame

When someone says they have an interest in something, I firmly believe that means the subject has in some way affected that person. For example, if someone were so say they had an interest in feminist studies, the chances are that person has in someway been affected by the patriarchy we find ourselves living in. So when, at the start of this month, I said I would be growing facial hair to raise awareness of the failing mental health of young gay men, my motives were not entirely altruistic. Nor is it simply down to the fact that I am myself a young gay man. I feel the need to preface this with a disclaimer that this is entirely built around my own personal experience, and that nothing I describe here has been in any way verified by an actual medical professional. So if you read anything that causes offence, I did not intend it so. It’s essentially public knowledge now that gay people are actually pretty accepted, and on the whole we know this as well, but there is still a lot that we don’t speak about that, even in todays quite open society. So while yes, gay men have full and unlimited equal rights in law, that doesn’t necessarily make us equal citizens. I came to this realisation on my first walk for Movember. As I walked around the grounds of Llandaff Cathedral, I found myself thinking about my life growing up as a devout Catholic and gay boy/teenager. This was a rabbit hole of thought that led me to come to the conclusion that while gay men have full legal equality, gay boys (especially religious ones) are second-rate citizens. Gay men can get married, whereas gay boys are rarely taught beyond heterosexual nuptials. Gay men can go for regular HIV check-ups, whereas gay boys are barely educated on what HIV is. Gay men can fall in love, but gay boys are almost never taught about even the potential of not dating a woman. Sex is still for man and wife, with the sole purpose of procreation, and anything outside of this is fraught with risks. Gay sex automatically means a higher risk of contracting a deadly disease, and anyone who is gay is signing themselves up for a life apart from everyone around them. Things are getting better, but better doesn’t mean best. So long as this isn’t the best it can be, gay boys will suffer. While the current climate is not overtly homophobic, its institutions are dragging its heels and continuing to force a deeply rooted shame on gay boys that they may never get over. The isolation this system imposes is certainly something that has affected me deeply. As the month went on I looked back over the parts of my life that I can remember, and I found myself noticing just how much I have changed as a result of these factors. I’ll admit I was never the chattiest child, preferring the solitary company of a book or a CBBC drama to playing football with the boys. But I was (despite my eyesight issues) an excellent observer. I saw boys and girls giggling to the side of the playground, kissing each other on the cheek under the stairs in secret, or behind the wall of the older years playground. So, while not understanding what all the fuss was about, I played along. Whatever girl I was closest to was branded a “crush”, which I assumed it must be. This seems to be a common trend, gay boys pretending to like girls until they come out, freed from those lies, but it’s actually incredibly damaging. With myself, I found that I questioned every close relationship with a girl. I would interrogate myself about how I felt, why it wasn’t right, why I wasn’t right, and why I kept looking at that boy over there instead. Every platonic friendship becomes a quest to force a crush, and every crush becomes a quest to force platonic friendship. And if young people don’t allow themselves to feel what they want to feel, it’s going to be difficult, if not impossible, to shake that when they are fully-grown. Every time they fall in love it’s tainted by the deeply rooted shame surrounding their first love. If you want to look at why some gay men take such risks when having sex, that might be a good place to start looking. Another obvious place to look is in the education. While young gay boys are in the throes of puberty, juggling their schoolwork with their own sexual and emotional crisis, they have nowhere to turn for guidance. Now this is of course not the case in many schools these days, so this part is where my own personal experience takes over. It is difficult, sitting in a room of thirty people, being taught about sex, and feeling like the only one not learning anything. The boys are all sniggering about vaginas together, and the girls are grimacing at the idea of childbirth, and none of it really means anything to me. There was brief talk of condoms (Catholic school), and the pros and cons of safe sex. There was a talk on various STI’s and how they’re contracted (all with the Catholic “don’t do this” angle), and there was a lot on the process of pregnancy. The only thing I vividly remember was how my stomach turned when AIDS and HIV were mentioned, which of course meant the introduction of homosexuality to the module. It was blink and you miss it. Gay means AIDS, let’s move on. There was nothing on the mechanics of sex, and certainly no notion that whatever it was could occur in a loving relationship. So what’s a young gay boy to do? Of course, turn to the internet. An introduction to a topic defines someone’s interest. If you gave an infant a copy of Moby Dick, they’d never read again. If your first exposure to sex is two guys meeting in the woods to have casual, unprotected sex, I think you can see how that would define your approach to sex. It’s dirty, it’s sleazy, it’s dangerous, and you put your penis where?! If you want to know how bad sexual education is for young gay people, I’ll tell you this: I didn’t know what lube was or how to use it until the age of eighteen, I didn’t know how to put a condom on until the day before I had sex for the first time, and I didn’t realise there was a way of cleaning your systems out before sex until I was twenty. This lack of education could have led to some serious risks being taken without me even knowing they were risks. My lack of knowledge may come as a surprise to some who once upon a time saw me as an expert, which brings me onto the next topic of how mental health in young gay men is fucked. For most, our limited knowledge has come from the internet, be that porn or Youtubes countless coming out videos, we have no real concept of the LGBT community, and we have been harbouring secret loves since the dawn of our memories. But then the doors to that closet open, the confetti guns go off, you step out into the light, and things just become a different kind of shit. Now, you’re an expert. You’re in the limelight, the gay best friend, and in my case for a couple of years, the only gay in the school. This is immense pressure for a newly out boy, as this is something deeply personal we have decided to share with the world. While the relief is immense, it does take some time to get used to. We aren’t afforded that luxury however, or at least I wasn’t, as the lack of education became glaringly obvious. I wrote a line in a play recently that said, “I had always known I liked boys in the way that other boys liked girls. But being gay? That’s different.” Up until this point, being gay was a petty playground insult, but now it had a face. And as the only gay face in the school, I was the only one to turn to when people had questions. The only problem being I went to the same school as them, so I was as in the dark as a lot of the people asking me. Sometimes I think I came out too soon, but that’s bollocks. I just came out before I realised what it meant. It triggered another personality crisis, as I began to struggle with the idea of living under this label. Another battle to fight alone, as now everyone expected me to be an LGBT expert. Thankfully I was never seriously bullied, but you can report bullies, you can’t report institutionalised abandonment. Something else you can’t report is a broken heart. I won’t talk too much about the first time I fell in love as I imagine it’s a story heard a thousand times before. Ask any gay man and he’ll probably have a story about the straight boy in high school. My own version of this tale is relatively passive, through years of supressing my feelings, before accepting them for what they were, and then still having to repress them as he’s straight. Balance that with those who know telling me to hold out hope, it was an emotional rollercoaster of a few years. It climaxed with a story I am still unable to verify. After six years of evolving feelings, he found out, and apparently showed a side that put me off him forever, as he became enraged by the idea of a boy being in love with him. I will say that on the matter. I was in love. For years of my life I was in love, but the environment I was in forced me to repress those feelings, ones that have thus far not resurfaced. This pressure, along with the conventional pressures of GCSE’s, puberty, and with other events out of my control, I ended up in student support therapy sessions. These sessions were essentially the result of a perfect storm that also involved a heavy dose of toxic masculinity, a broader topic I won’t discuss here. I ended up stopping these sessions after roughly two-to-three months, as I felt they were actually adding to my worries, not eliminating them. By the time I turned eighteen, I feel I’d been officially fucked. I was going to university, a hub of gayness, exams, independence, and sexual liberation, and I was in no way prepared. My exposure to the gay world had been tainted by my education, both sexual and religious, by the continued camp and/or depressing representation in film and TV, online porn, and Grindr. I was caught between two worlds, the heterosexual world I’d climbed my way out of, and the LGBT community that felt too far the other way. I had no home in the Church, and having one foot in the closet at home meant I didn’t really feel comfortable there either. Being eighteen seems a long time ago now. But the effects of my childhood are still affecting me today. The repression of my first love has meant that I find myself incapable of exposing myself to that feeling again. The secrets I have kept throughout my life have left me untrustworthy of anyone, including myself, and has tainted my personality beyond belief. I have become bitter and sarcastic in a desperate attempt to hide my actual personality, something I got a glimpse of for the first time back in February to June of this year. My lack of emotional stability has left me looking for the next best thing on an app that I hate, but have become reliant on for human contact however brief. I find emotions themselves incredibly exhausting, and increasingly the notion of getting out of bed in the morning is becoming an arduous task. My passion for writing is waning, and my personality is increasingly impulsive and addictive. I’m not blaming being gay on these issues, but it has certainly been a contributing factor. I only faced up to my issues at the end of university, forced to admit it by my lecturers. I am ashamed. I love men, but I am ashamed to be gay. But I think more importantly, I am lost. I am still that eighteen year old with nowhere to call home, caught between the world he knew and the world he’s yet to explore. So why did I do Movember? Why do I think the mental health of gay boys is worth the walks? Why is it close to my heart? It’s, selfishly, because of me. And while this post is long and rushed, it’s barely scratched the surface of the issues facing young gay boys. It’s sex, it’s relationships, it’s self-worth, it’s friends and family, it’s education, it’s politics, and most importantly, it’s incredibly personal. So long as I have this beard, I will fight for those gay boys, but first I ‘ve got to fight for this one.