emredb

[la0hu]

masha broke a bowl by accident in the kitchen and when i brought her the broom and dustpan and asked her if she was okay, she looked at me, straight-faced, and said, "no, i'm not okay." and then i realized she meant that she still feels emotionally abused by the house somehow, and i felt a flash of anger because i am so sick of her shit, and i rephrased, "are you physically injured?" and she gave me another look and said "i'm physically okay." and then when connie asked from her room "what's going on?" masha replied "nothing new." like fuck off ohhhhhhhh my god

[autistic-clownfish]

Something I will never understand is people letting the bitterness overtake them. It’s okay to be angry about your situation. It sucks. Being autistic fucking sucks. I can barely work. I can’t really cook for myself. I need help cleaning. I can’t drive. I can’t walk around town safely by myself. I’m too paranoid to stray far from my house. I need someone to put me to bed each night. I have three different sets of earplugs on my keys for different occasions to try and balance my sensory needs and my ability to hear clearly. I hate how dependent I am.

Being trans sucks too. People are awful. I get misgendered constantly. The dysphoria is eating me up inside.

But guess the fuck what? That self diagnosed kid on TikTok with level 1 autism who loves being autistic isn’t actively harming anyone! Is it annoying? Yes! Is my immediate reaction to roll my eyes? Sometimes. But guess what? I’m not going to bully a kid who feels like have finally found themselves and can happily unmask. I’m not getting into battles of who has it worse because you can never, ever know.

That non dysphoric nonbinary kid with dyed hair and piercings? Good for them, I’m glad they know how to express themselves and that they’re not suffering from dysphoria.

Every day, I choose to be a nice person. I actively have to make that choice because the world has been cruel and unrelenting. But there are good, kind people out there and they have done nothing to deserve my anger.

I refuse to be mean.

I refuse to be a bully.

I refuse to be bitter and spiteful.

It’s a choice you have to actively make. You’re not inherently good or bad. You have to think about your words and choose them carefully. You have to imagine the person in front of you is already hurting and has been through the wars. Because you can never know. And kindness should always be your first response.

Never assume malice where ignorance will suffice.

That isn’t to say you should be a doormat. If someone is mistreating you’ll stand up for yourself! But don’t be cruel to people who have done nothing to deserve it.

[musherum]

but then theres also the question of my habit of self-sabotaging with my bitchier tendencies

like ill see someone or something doing something i detest and am critical of, or being friends with someone i think is a scumbag, and ill drop everything to be a cunt about it because like, fuck it, im tired of being cutiegirl doormat. and to be fair, sometimes im right about these things! sometimes someone really is a gross scumbag! im fairly on-the-money, reasonably often, i'd like to think (common human refrain)

but ultimately, displays like that end up not resolving anything, and just making everyone be like, "wow bitch, youre a fucked little powderkeg disaster waiting to go off, whats wrong with you?" and then i end up losing friends. and for a while i feel self righteous about it, but then i realize i fucked everything up, and i really miss them, and i wish i couldve solved the situation more amicably... you can imagine it.

its one of those things where its hard for me to strike a balance, i guess. one mode of operating is assertive but leads me to ultimate isolation, while the other allows me to build interpersonal connections but is self-effacing and suffocating.

logically i should seek some kind of synthesis of the best parts of each of these. but then inevitably i end up in a situation like, where i try to respectfully and mindfully assert myself, and the same thing happens anyway. i lose friends and people start seeing me as an aggro little freak, either because i fucked up and got too elevated, or because i simply chanced upon someone who really doesnt give a shit about like, trying to understand why other people are upset. and then thatll start to drive me into one of the two maladaptive coping mechanisms - either in a fit of anger and frustration i start to drive people away again, or in a fear of fear and loneliness i go back to squashing down all of my thoughts and feelings to make myself more palatable to others.

idk how to conclude this post. its tricky, is my point, and its something ive been struggling with for a while.

[mcheang]

If you're still accepting prompts, how about Bustier salt. A Superintendent comes to inspect and observe the classes. Bustier starts talking about how Marinette is her prized modeled student and always setting the example. Superintendent says: "You have only 1 modeled student? What about the rest? Mendeleiev seems to have an entire class full of well behave students." And Bustier gets chewed out about how she handles her classes

OMG, thank you. I’ve been having writer’s block for ML. I’m out of practise so I claim this as a draft.

Model student

Caline made sure to dress nicely today. Her outfit was neatly pressed, not a hair out of place, her makeup expertly applied.

Today was the day the faculty would be inspected by the superintendent.

Normally the superintendent was strict, no-nonsense Gabrielle. But this year, her successor would take her place. Caline has been fortunate enough to get a good look at his photograph.

He was dreamy and definitely looked friendly.

Can you blame Caline for wanting to make a good impression. Her love life has been nada so far.

Mr Tonnerre would inspect her class last.

Caline had been kind of smug at that fact. She knew she was everyone’s favourite teacher. She even headed the class of celebrities.

Once Mr Tonnerre was through seeing the rest of the ordinary, bland classes, surely he would be impressed with her.

Mr Tonnerre arrived in the second last period of the day.

Understandably, some of the girls giggled at his appearance.

Mr Tonnerre smiled. “Please don’t mind me. Carry on teaching as I were the mere air.”

And then he went to sit in the back, in the lone remaining seat next to Ivan.

Caline certainly did her best. She made sure to choose a poem that was classic yet decently easy for her class to understand and offer their opinions.

Indeed, most of the class offered their own interpretations of the poem.

When the lesson was over and done, Caline assigned the class a ten minute break while she eagerly awaited Mr Tonnerre’s approval. Throughout the lesson, his smile had been bland as he observed the class.

He stepped down to her desk and began his review. “Tell me, Ms Bustier, what can you tell me of Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” (Aka the only 2 people yet to be akumatized)

Caline blinked but pounced on the opportunity. “Oh, Adrien is one of our newest students, but he is certainly one of our smartest. He doesn’t get to spend much time with the rest of the class because of his career, but I can see that he is a polite and responsible young man. And Marinette is the crown jewel of this class. Our Everyday Ladybug, you know? She is a role model to the whole school!”

Mr Tonnerre frowned. “You only have one model student? What about the rest of the class?”

Caline blinked again. “Model students are not common, Mr Tonnerre. They stand out. It’s a tribute to Marinette that she does so in this class full of celebrities and raw talent.”

Mr Tonnerre raised an eyebrow. “Ms Bustier, I was just at Ms Mendeliev’s class and I saw a class full of well-behaved children. 9 of them are role models to the school.”

Caline sputtered. “Nine? How is that possible? I mean, don’t you think you are judging my class unfairly. I think many of them are role model material to the others outside of this class.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” Caline said, nodding emphatically. “Alya is the Ladyblogger. She encourages people to pursue their dreams with drive. Lila Rossi spreads word of her charities. Chloe Bourgeois is Queen Bee, for crying out loud!”

Mr Tonnerre looked at the redhead like she was daft. “You do realize that Alya Cesaire endangers her own life in pursuit of her goal. How is that an ideal role model? I have heard of Lila Rossi through some students who have already established charity donation drives. Apparently they wanted to volunteer but Lila Rossi kept insisting that there were no available events for them or to just give her the cash directly so she can hand it over to the fundraiser managers herself. Fortunately, the students wanted to give large checks and their parents wanted valid receipts and websites. Afterward, it had been discovered that there were no such charities that Lila Rossi claimed to have worked with. And as for Chloe Bourgeois, there have been innumerable reports of her bullying activity since she entered high school, activities which have not diminished despite her role as a superhero, which I understand was an initial mixup. Ladybug never chose Chloe to be Queen Bee at first. And she has since only called upon her when the situation was directly caused by her or they really needed all the help they could find. As a matter of fact, Chloe is not even a role model because she is too self-absorbed and can’t seem to get it into her head that Ladybug explicitly told her she can’t be a hero again. (The Ladyblog got hold of that news).”

Caline gaped like a fish at the information overload.

“Frankly Ms Bustier, I had my apprehensions when I came to your class and I can see they are well justified. When Chloe made a snide remark about Rose’s interpretation of your poem, and Marinette defended Rose and civilly asked Chloe to be nice, you actually silenced Marinette and ignored Chloe.”

Caline stammered, “But we need to set a good example of forgiveness.”

Mr Tonnerre seemed to look at her sympathetically, as if coming to the conclusion that she was indeed an idiot. “Ms Bustier, we live in a city of akumas. Forgiveness is something we have grown used to. It is not the akumas’ fault that they were being manipulated. Nobody held a grudge against Chloe when she became Antibug. But by letting Chloe get away with her snobbery, you are not encouraging her to be nice. You are enabling her.”

Caline’s knees shake. “But what do I do? I don’t want to be mean.”

Mr Tonnerre shook his head. “Sometimes you have to be strict if you want to help someone. Too much kindness frankly makes you a doormat.”

“Speaking of which, I believe you need to have a chat with Alya about her akuma chasing. She needs to set an example as Vice President and follow the safety evacuation measures, instead of running into danger.”

Caline let out a sob but nodded.

“One more thing. I believe Lila Rossi may be a compulsive liar. She knows too many celebrities and her stories don’t add up. Her condition and background needs to be checked. Her parents called, and the class notified. Have I made myself clear?”

Caline sank back against her desk. “Crystal.”

How did she ever like this man?

“Good. I’ll return again next semester, Ms Bustier. In that time, I hope to see your class becoming better role models, including you.”

The class returned to find their teacher pale and shaky. Of course some of them had eavesdropped. Some were sympathetic to her plight. Others were staring at Lila dubiously and Alya in disappointment.

[homestuckexamination]

Selfish Vs Unselfish

Jesus. Yeah I have nothing to comment here, I’m going to read this later when I haven’t just woken up.

You know the drill. Put it under ‘Read More’. A matter of perspective it can be, but there can be an objective truth to sort that out. Let me e x p a n d on this matter using Homestuck and some philosophy. And for those who missed the last ask on Active/Passive divide, please do remember that these labels are on a continuum, not strictly boxed categories. “UNSELFISH” or UNSELFISH - The passive classes lean more to this. How? By being group-oriented. Like support classes in RPGs, their asset comes mainly from a drive to benefit others. Roxy is one of the best examples of this. While she was passive-aggressive in her pursuit of romance, she is ultimately willing to put her self aside and bettering herself if that meant making sure the group stays together. She does this by, to quote Dirk, never turning the tables to make a talk about her when she knows her friend needs something.

TG: i was gonna say why i finally quit drinkin TG: i mean if you want to know GG: Yes. GG: Actually, once you did stop, it made me finally realize it was a problem for you for a long time. GG: And I didn’t say anything at the time, but it made me wonder if I wasn’t doing the right thing before. GG: By failing to point out you might have a problem? Or just going along with it and participating in lively banter any time you clearly had too much to drink? GG: Was I just being a bad friend? TG: nah it wasnt your responsibility to fix my shit TG: and anyway i think i made it hard for anyone to come at me like it was a real problem TG: i was always joking around so much and havin a good time like kind of overzealously so TG: that i probably just made people feel like a shitty wet blanket for even mentioning it

She wants to be of use to her group. However, the downside to this is that, as passively Roxy can be, she often needs them as well.

TG: and now dirk knows that too and for some reason letting him down feels like the worst part?? TG: which is equally lame and weak cuz i should care for my own sake not for how it makes a dude see me but it still just really bothers me ???

TG: i didnt want her to meet a sloppy embarrassing mess of a daughter

TG: even if she did like to drink at some point it was kind of a childish idea that doing so myself would make me closer to her or help us bond or whatever TG: anyway i think i might of overestimated her drinkin habits

How would you know if a class is truly passive when a character just been a really selfish a-hole through the story? It’s how they mainly rely on others as well. Let’s use Aranea as the main example of a selfish passive Sylph of Light that tries to emulate a Thief. Aranea says that Sylph is a healer type of class that involves boosting others, even excessively. However, while she claims that she merely wants to help and shepard the Alpha timeline by taking control of it, Meenah says otherwise. What Aranea has been doing is a self-aggrandizing act to get into the spotlight and not sit on the sidelines anymore, much like her fellow Serket. Like Kanaya, she is meddlesome. She asserts that what she does is for the good of all, even if that means doing something others would object to. They don’t want that. But, she does it anyway.

At first, she complies when the recipient refuses, but when it eventually comes to her ultimate takeover plan, everyone else comes second. She may believe that she’s just granting their wishes, but her underlying motive is ultimately selfish- albeit by excessively “helping” others for her own cause. Aranea failed to learn what Mindfang did:

“8ut as I sit here deciding what to do with the damna8le little sphere, I understand my error. It was not in failing to chart a course through future events to turn my fortune’s tide, even so many sweeps from now. It was in 8elieving the future was mind to know, and fortune mine to control.”

Now let’s use Rufioh and compare him to Roxy. Both of them are Rogues. Both of them are group-oriented characters that act selfishly from time-to-time. The difference is that Rufioh is more selfish. He’s extremely affable to the point of being a doormat to please others all while trying to be polite about romantic advances despite being a flirt himself. He’s reluctant to voice his own reason that he wants to leave his matespritship with Horuss. Sounds familiar? He’s the Jake of the love triangle. Rufioh cheated on Damara and never takes responsibility from it, focusing on Damara being a crazed scorned girl.

Passive players that fail to balance supporting others and fulfilling their own desires often end up being thrown in a loop. Forcing your solution solution on others for 'their own good’ is selfish. Your concern on how others perceive you may be sprouted from your own insecurity. Whenever you make a donation to the less fortunate, how can you be certain it’s not without the purpose of staving off guilt, doing it because it simply aligns with your moral code, or because it feels good? 

AG: I decided not to, 8ecause I didn’t want to 8e the one to make you sad about it.

AG: Was that selfish of me? I dunno.

It’s a gem to see volunteers whose instincts are to help people to make life more bearable, mind you. But they’re also doing that because they want to see them better and it’s often their own desire to do so and fulfill that dream.

ENLIGHTENED VS UNENLIGHTENED SELFISHNESS

-I’ve rambled on this a bit. Here’s a recap:

*Unenlightened Selfishness is… pretty much the archetypal self-centeredness that makes people jerks. It’s whenever you do something for yourself with little to no regard to other people’s desires. It’s the greedy shark hoarding all the treasure. It’s when you try to justify your actions with a perspective of “everyone else is selfish, so I’m entitled to be an asshole to everyone too”.

*Enlightened Selfishness or Enlightened Self-Interest is the opposite. It’s when you respect that everyone has their own wants and needs by compromising and coinciding them with your own. It’s like a deal. It’s the Golden Rule. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It’s when you do things for other people for the good you’ll get from it, even when the payment is simple politeness and being generally nice. Society expects each individual to benefit the community in turn by working. We work with the expectation that others work for us. Unlike the first, this form of self-interest benefits both parties. Another term is Selfish Altruism.

We see an exercise of selfishness burning brightly through Vriska’s arc.

(VRISKA): I’m not a loser though! (VRISKA): I LIKE who I’ve 8ecome. (VRISKA): I actually feel happy and good a8out my life for the first time in… may8e forever?? (VRISKA): Like, ACTUALLY good a8out my life in a way that feels real, instead of forced. Don’t you realize that’s what it was like for us? VRISKA: You don’t have a life! VRISKA: You’re DEAD, remem8er? VRISKA: I’m the one with the life! VRISKA: And I fully intend to use it in a relevant and constructive way to help 8ring an end to all the horri8le shit that’s 8een going on for way too long. VRISKA: Remem8er when you used to care a8out that sort of thing? VRISKA: No, o8viously not. VRISKA: All you care a8out now is 8ullshit hipstery fashion trends, feeling “happy”, and… whatever the fuck it is you’re doing here? VRISKA: Frolicking with some horses in an ugly field or some shit. VRISKA: Just a8solutely disgraceful. VRISKA: How could I have 8ecome so selfish??

Vriska is accusing (Vriska) for being selfish despite being selfish herself. Remember her popular hero quote?

VRISKA: I only ever wanted to do the right thing no matter how it made people judge me, and I don’t need a magic ring to do that. VRISKA: You don’t have to 8e alive to make yourself relevant. VRISKA: And you don’t have to 8e a good person to 8e a hero. VRISKA: You just have to know who you are and stay true to that. VRISKA: So I’m going to keep fighting for people the only way I ever knew how.

VRISKA: 8y 8eing me.

And a few panels after that, she does this.

VRISKA: OHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! VRISKA: OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! VRISKA: WE’RE G8ING TO LOOK AT WH8T’S IN THIS CH8ST RIGHT N8W!!!!!!!! VRISKA: DO YOU HE8R ME Y8U F8CK? VRISKA: I D8DN’T SCRAPE AND CLAW MY W8Y 8ACK TO RELEV8NCE F8R THIS SHIT! VRISKA: I’M DOING S8METHING F8CKING IMPORTANT! AND WHEN I DO SOMETH8NG FUCKING IMPORT8NT, EVERY88DY 8ETTER D8MN WELL PAY ATT8NTION TO ME!!!!!!!!

Sure, her resurrection got everyone’s attention, but also annoyance. A lot of their personal problems aren’t truly solved, just put on a temporary chokehold by someone with a stubborn, assertive personality. She’s taking charge so that her team won’t be in poor condition for the big fight, but also to, well, be in the spotlight. She doesn’t care how others think of her, she just wants to help… but also because it makes her important, even if that means overpowering her friends, including her moirail Terezi. Vriska’s the active counterpart to Roxy in both class and aspect. A positive part of this is that it’s easier for Vriska and other folks like her to be self-driven.

…

What am I getting at? It’s a matter of intention. Are they doing it to mainly benefit others? Or are they acting to benefit themselves? Even if it’s grey, there’s often a tint or shade that’s lighter or darker that makes someone lean somewhere. It doesn’t matter how they see themselves and how they perceive their own actions, it’s their motivation that defines the line. Accidents don’t count. It’s the will. Looking at one’s intention is a way to objectively sift through the blurriness of it their actions, even when said intention is subconscious. You can also simply take the Active/Passive divide on strictly class roles in terms of RPG abilities alone if you’re not keen on the personalities of the bunch.

[adrunkemindrecovering]

I've spent so much of my time stepping forward. One day at a time, no matter how many baby steps it takes. In the beginning I had so much support and was surrounded by help and advice and listening ears. Now that we're coming up on 2 years it's like everybody forgot that my struggle never ends. Honestly, lately it feels even harder than in the early stages.

I'm a full time parent, their mother and I still live together for the kids, but we aren't together. In my home their mother works 2 jobs (her choice) and I work weekends (it's the only time she's not at work) we have one vehicle, which she takes to go to work. So I'm home with 2 kids 24/7 essentially. My son goes to school so there's a couple hours of it just being the one kid, that still leaves my toddler who is hell on wheels from sun up to sun up because I swear she never sleeps. On the weekends we get my other two daughters, who I barley get to see because I have to work, which makes me feel terrible.

I've been so overwhelmed lately. The guilty feelings of not seeing my girls as much, my toddler being just a toddler all hours of all days with absolutely no relief, and my son thinking 8 means he's grown and falling into the wrong group of friends and bringing home that attitude. I'm in my home 5 days a week with nowhere to go. On the weekends, she makes plans and I'm still stuck at home with the kids or I make plans and she makes it a huge deal. The rare occasions she takes the kids anywhere with her she still texts and calls me the entire time. I can't even go to the bathroom without a child or HER following me.

It's building an anger and resentment that I truly don't want to harbor mixed with so much guilt for feeling that way. Those are the exact kinds of feelings that led me to a place of heavy addiction to begin with. I drank to get that break, to feel like I had 5 minutes to myself. I did the things I did because it made me feel like I was my own person, I was more than just a built in babysitter and a doormat. I know that I'm a good dad, but when do I get to be more than just a dad? I'm tired. I love being a parent but I want to continue to love it, not resent it! I used to never understand what could drive a man to leave or make them want to drink or do whatever their drug of choice was when they had kids because that should be more important, but honestly...now I understand and I truly hate that feeling so much.

[mr-entj]

1Hello Mr ENTJ. I am currently stuck trying to understand whether being excellent and being kind are things I can do simultaneously. It seems that respect can only be earned when you don't show your compassion. I'm asking because I am ENTJ who grew up in an extremely abusive situation (attempted murder from my parents a few times, was starved, didn't have a place to sleep) and all that made me was learn how to succeed despite everything. Once I got into a prestigious uni, PTSD and depression hit

2hit me full force. I had to unpack the traumas I'd experienced and understand what emotional health is. Now I have learned to have compassion to all, but I have noticed that this makes ppl I need to impress respect me less, and it makes it harder to demand excellence from myself in every way, which I insist upon. I want to maintain having kindness and being compassionate, but at the same time I really can't stand anything less than abs excellence from myself. I am getting frustrated. Any tips? 

The “be mean and be excellent in life/respected by others” vs “be nice and be mediocre/disrespected by others” dichotomy doesn’t exist. I haven’t met anyone worth knowing who reacted to compassion with: “Wow, are you being nice and charitable to others? I saw you give food to that starving child ... you’re such a loser! I don’t respect you anymore.” I doubt that people don’t respect you for being compassionate because this is an admirable trait to have in human beings. You’re likely misreading the situation or you’re wildly overcompensating for your past behavior by becoming a doormat. If that’s the case, then set and enforce healthy boundaries.

If I had to take a wild guess at the root cause of your problem, it would be that your work ethic was previously fueled by negative emotions, probably anger, due to the pain of past abuse from your parents. Now that you’re coping with that pain and anger (this is a positive thing by the way) to improve your emotional health, you don’t have that same fuel in your tank to drive the same work ethic and achieve the same results. You feel sapped of your ‘power’ and you’re trying to regain it even if that means regressing to your previous unhealthy emotional state. There’s a quote from one of my favorite books that applies here:

“I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.” 

My thoughts on this are straightforward:

Focus less on how people view/respect you, focus more on pursuing your goals and becoming a better person. Respect from others is a byproduct of being excellent in some capacity-- it’s not a goal to aim for, a reaction you can bully out of people, or a status you can beg from others. Some people can never be convinced to act right no matter what you do, but that’s outside of your control so focus on the things within your control. One thing that’s fully in your control is becoming someone you’re proud to be.

If you can survive a rough childhood and make it to a prestigious university, then the rest of your life shouldn't be as scary. Set new and ambitious goals that get you excited, be disciplined in pursuit of those goals, be authentic in the expression of your personality, live your life as if you had never been hurt, build strong relationships with supportive people you meet along your journey, and move the hell on if other people just don’t get it. Start with self-respect and stability-- the rest will naturally come to you. 

Don’t be afraid to be happy, there’s more power in hope than there is in anger.

[funkymbtifiction]

 I wanted to ask two things to you as a fellow ENFP: how do you think your inferior Si manifests in you and how do you deal with Ne sometimes being overwhelming with so many ideas, only to end up not following any, for the very reason of feeling overwhelmed and kind of stuck?

My inferior Si manifests as having absolutely no idea how to get ahead in the real world in the terms of “… do what other people have done.” I feel powerless and like I must reinvent the wheel or do something unique and creative instead of the “boring slow route.” It means finishing something and moving quickly on rather than taking the time to establish it in any tangible way. I have a hard time keeping track of detailed information; I can learn bits and pieces of random info that interested me at the time and hold onto the vague essentials of it, but I cannot quote text books about it like a lot of STJ friends can. Probably the most fun, I have no tangible way to track myself or how I used to be or measure how far I have come or produce evidence for certain things, so I wandered around forever looking for my MBTI type and my Enneagram fixes because my Ne believed whatever it stuck to and can be easily influenced.

Ne-wise, I just go with the flow most of the time. Ideas come, they go. I keep and act on the good ones, or I act on one I think will be good, feel out whether it will hold my interest, and abandon it if it does not. If I’m overwhelmed with ideas for a book, say, I will write them down to see if any of them are good enough to keep the plot going or in some way bring in my Te to organize them, narrow them down, see how they fit together, and then proceed with the better ones, but it’s mostly “going with the flow.” Usually if I’m stuck it means I have too much going on in my head – getting it out on paper or talking out loud usually helps.

Back in high school, I may have been one of the “mean girls”, but I would always make sure to feel unique in comparison to my so-called friends. I would put up with sustaining fake friendships in order to appear on top of the school social hierarchy because I wanted to feel powerful (at least in my bored with life, sixteen-year-old-self head), but my best friend would never put aside her own principles and fake a friendship with somebody she doesn’t like only for convenience sake.

In regards to my enneagram, I came to the conclusion I am, yes, a 4w3. I really thought about all of what you told me and started reading all about the type 3 I could, but 4 feels much more the true, ugly me, while 3 sounds more like my social persona. You know, when I first discovered the Enneagram, I instantly though of myself as 3w4-7w8-8w7. Pretty cool, I thought. But you are right, Enneagram is there to make us see the ugly truth about our personalities, and soon I found out, deep down, I am much more a 4 than a 3 (which is how I desperately wanted to present myself, akin to the ESTJ facade) and that I have a (very counter-phobic) 6 fix, not 7. However, after what you told me, I started reading about the type 9 for my last fix, as you once said the last one is some kind of last resort, and I am much more, let’s say, catatonic, when things start to crumble inside of me. Which maybe be just my 3 wing disintegrating, I don’t know. But I did feel really dragged reading about the ugly aspects of being a 9, and now I am almost sure it is my last fix. Therefore, I think my tritype may be 4w3-6w7-9w8. What do you think?

TBH, neither would I fake anything, ever. I literally cannot do it. I cannot stand fakers / being inauthentic and my fix isn’t even 4. (I’m either a 693 due to my lack of sense of self / The Bermuda Triangle, or a 692 goody-goody, although the nickname Stockholm Syndrome makes me laugh and cringe.) (Tho you could be soc-first. I’m sp-first so appearing powerful doesn’t matter to me as much. Wanting social acceptance is very soc-dom.)

If interested in learning and self-torturing, you can listen to the podcast that discusses the negative aspects of the tritypes here. (They haven’t gotten to the 1 fixers yet, but have done the 9s and 8s.) The 469 is Whiny Tears. ;)

I can tell you how my own 9 manifests, because I have seen it in constant use the last two weeks. I had several things I needed to do but no clear deadline, and I did not really want to do them because it was tedious and might not be pleasant, so you would be amazed at how many menial tasks I suddenly found far more important to do than those three tasks. I cleaned the entire house, I re-organized my CD collection, etc., all to avoid doing things that, in the end, took me 5 hours total to finish doing. I spent two weeks avoiding them, and I could have been done with it in a few hours and moved on with my life. This is an example of the slothful behavior of the 9 fix – avoiding of doing anything that seems unpleasant through self-distracting behaviors but that make the 9 feel safe and peaceful. But doing this only exacerbates the anxiety, because not only is the thing you are dreading still not done (and will have to be), you are wasting time avoiding it.

This has been a pattern my whole life – an inert inner laziness when it comes to tackling things that are hard, boring, or unpleasant, of avoidance, distraction, and mounting anxiety as a result. It effing sucks to have a 9 fix, just like the pathological need for perfection makes it suck to have a 1 fix, and the militant need to control everyone all the time makes it suck to have an 8 fix.

You still don’t seem to understand the Enneagram in context with your actual behavior nor do you grasp what it means to be a 4. A 4 doesn’t present a facade to get accepted or make people like them; a 4 finds all facades unbearably fake and is constantly thwarted by, obsessed with, and makes a big deal out of, their perceived brokenness and separateness. A 4-core I know says it’s like rejecting every single thing you encounter as “not me” and then having to pull something out of yourself, devoid of anybody else, that “is you.” Essentially, painting yourself into a corner and removing all your options. The 4 is eaten up with misery inside at how easily other people seem to do things, and have things, and be pleased with themselves and life and make friends, all the while ensuring they do not and cannot ever get those things, out of their militant need to be true and ugly to themselves. Their sin is covetousness – being simultaneously envious about how others are so easily pleased and carefully constructing an image of “Oh well, they are Lowbrow and Boring and Less Cultured than me” that is pure snob. It isn’t glamorous, and it IS fake, but the 4 would have a panic attack / meltdown at the idea that they are BEING fake by constructing an elitist attitude of what is and what is not “me.”

To find your tritype, first you need to cope with the ugly aspects of your core and admit to and find evidence of how they have sabotaged your life in crucial ways (1s - trying to be perfect drives everyone else and themselves insane FOR NO REASON; 2s - constantly thinking they need to meet everyone else’s needs means they are out of touch with their own wants; 3s - constantly thinking ‘I must achieve or be what others admire’ means they are afraid that without success, they are inwardly empty; 4s - sabotage their relationships by pushing everyone and everything out of their life / being self-absorbed; 5s - constantly standing on the sidelines means they have accomplished nothing much; 6s - all the unnecessary self-doubt and questioning holds them back from doing things; 7s - all the avoidance of boredom and stagnation has made them shallow and unable to face hard things; 8s - the militant defensive posture and aggression has made them out of touch with their sensitive feelings; 9s - being unable and unwilling to rock the boat has made them a doormat). There’s the brutal truth of each type. 

If you are a 4, you should have ample evidence of how you self-sabotage and how it has ruined your relationships in some way. But if you are an inferior Si, you won’t remember these as much so - keep a journal, track your thoughts, write down how you are fake or presenting yourself in a way that isn’t true to yourself, what you are worried about over the course of the day, etc., and after a month or so, compare them to the coping mechanisms for each type. You may find out you are a different type (... 6 with a 3 fix, IMO).

- ENFP Mod

[greatpeanutruins]

WHAT I BELIEVE...

What I believe is getting harder to put into daily practice for me it's getting beyond what I wanted to achieve to feel at peace with little old me...

To give everything I could, to everybody...

Not because I should but because I believed everyone was worth it, 'you see'...

But now I'm not so sure what if I believe...?

I'm questioning if there is any good in anyone & everyone any more...?

Or even if good still exists in my world with whom I thought loved me as well...

Because these so called people keep doing me wrong,

Its becoming hard for me just to hang on & maintain a positive view, in that I accept you for you...

I give my honesty & loyalty too...

Unconditional love isn't feeling unconditional at all...

Its starting to feel like I'm just a bouncing ball,

No actually like a boomerang for all... I'm so predictable...

& I'm starting to get annoyed at myself for being nice at all...

My nice qualities I'm not liking so much, It seems my people think I'm a soft touch, taken my kindness for weakness, taking so much & disrespecting me as well...

I'm sick to death of people not hearing me, nobody is listening to a word I say...

I'm starting to believe they want it that way...

That nobody cares at all...

Invisible is how I'm beginning to feel, only seen at will, when they want or need something from me...

Then I'm back to invisibility...

So why should I keeping making an effort, There's No compassion for me...

I'm beginning to feel worthless, No ones looking at me, they don't wanna see the hurt or doubt they are serving me...

Once so tall, now I feel so small, was it a waste of time giving them my all...

The only things I wanted from them come free in life & I give ample to all in my world, yet being used is what's being done...

No more hiding it either, I've become peoples fun...

I'm losing faith in all around me...

I don't want to become what I use to be...

Resentful & bitter was history...

I don't wanna become cold where I no longer care,

Only nasty words to spare because I can't forgive those to pretend to care...

I know that's not what I want to be, but sometimes I feel that's what's gonna be because my people keep pushing me...

I'm standing on the edge, waiting for the final push...

I can't see a way out of this invisible, lonely, is it me sea that I'm drowning in, No longer to be happy go lucky, honest & free, time & love for anybody...

I don't wanna go back to hating me, feeling like I wasted time on those who claimed to love me... I don't want to be an empty shell, but I don't know how much more I can take, feeling like my qualities where a huge mistake...

How do I get out of this well, that truly feels like hell...?

I can't trust people inside my home, even so-called friends are becoming strangers to me... There influenced by those inside my home, now it seems very one wants to take the piss out of me... & not just material, but mentally too...

Just to be listened to without throwing it back at me...

To be acknowledge would make the world of difference to me...

A little consideration & apperception would make me happy...

I wouldn't mind so much that what I say was going unheard...

{It's not like I haven't been there before or being something new no one listening to me...}

Instead of people always seeing & testing how far they can push me, It feels like they won't be happy until they see my dam right ugly...

To add insult to injury, pour salt on my wounds it's me they call not right in the head... crazy...

& I'm back to that feeling I know all to well...

How do I keep giving myself when I know I'm being taken for a fool...

Water of a ducks back is becoming a task, staying true to all that I am is harder to do... I'm fighting the same shit without fail on a daily base's... {actually I've done quite well considering how long it's been going on,}

But now it's starting to wear on me, dragging me slowly further out to sea...

To die right now would suit me well... Instead of living this hell...

It's driving me crazy, insane...

I'm beginning to unravel little by little, piece by piece...

I believe these people won't be happy until I'm down on my knees & give up on loving & liking me... Lost in the darkness, blindness to what niceness that was once me...

I use to believe in them, I use to believe in me...

I thought the best things in life were free, So why is it so costly for me...

I'm Gods design, I'm suppose to be exactly the way I am...

So why am I made to feel like a nobody... I just don't know what I believe any more, but self-doubt keeps knocking so loud on my door...

& just when I think it can't get any worse, another ground-hog day, never the reverse... Maybe I'll be appcepicated when in my Hurst...

crocodile tears that's what it will be...

Because I wouldn't feel so worthless right now if I meant anything to the people revolve around me...

I'm truly starting to believe I'm gonna stay invisible to all that pretend to care, to everyone who use's & abuse's a good soul like me...

I now understand why people have lost faith in humanity, It's made me weary for sure... If I can't trust the ones in my life, why trust someone you just don't know... {because not everyone is the same... See at present some of me still remains} I pray that I conquer & rise... Oh lord not to return to where I've come from... strength & courage because God you see who I am & the good in me... & don't let these people ruin me...

I pray one day that you all have a wake up call, & realise how good people are few & far in between, See your fuck up, Regret & really miss me... I believe unfortunately it won't happen while I'm the doormat lying down, & allowing my people to treat me how they do... I know what I need to do, sometimes I just haven't got the strength too... there's fear mixed up in there somewhere too...

I hope I figure it out before the darkness comes with no one in my circle who cares to hear my calling, On my spiral keep on falling...

Please dear lord listen to me... What I still believe in is you...

[shibalen]

hi !! can i get a romantic haikyuu matchup with ♫︎ + 𑁍 please? she/her pronouns, i'm pan, infp, with a libra sun+moon ! i'm introverted, very chill and free spirited, also very patient, to the point that i'm sometimes a doormat :/ i'm in touch with my emotions, i'm usually quiet but can get really talkative when excited. i get in my own head a lot and have a hard time asking for help. cursed memes and playful banter are my cups of tea, and i'm not easily flustered (but that's probs partly bc i'm kinda dense oof). 🃏 [1/3]

i do competitive debate and it's kind of my sport! i'm a theatre kid too, i absolutely love performing! i'm bilingual and learning french, i love classic books, philosophy, and cats. i'm a pop culture nerd! i speak very animatedly. sharing songs is a love language for me. i think i'm very supportive towards my friends, i don't always give advice but i always try to be there for them as much as i can (even if i nag them sometimes).🃏 [2/3]

i love writing analyses on media i like! i'm especially into stuff that has lots of themes and focus on character psyche, i like picking them apart. i also like fashion and playing uke! i don't have an ideal type for an s/o, all i ask is they understand when i'm super busy and need to be alone to recharge, but also know when to call me out when i'm trying to burn myself out lol. i like spontaneous, spur of the moment dates! this got long hshs but thank you sm and hope you have a great day !! 🃏 [3/3]

♡ matchup for anon

haikyuu: i match you with . . .

tetsurō kuroo !!

• i'm convinced you'd go great with Kuroo, and that you're exactly his type! relaxed and quiet yet fun, you'd catch his attention quickly.

• he adores your analytical, nerdy side but also your funny and free-spirited personality. definetly the type to playfully make fun of you for those traits to express his affection tho (until you point out he's just as much of a geek himself)

• being Kenma's friend, he has no problem getting you out of your head and laying out the facts. he'll help you focus on smaller goals to keep you from burning out. taking breaks is obligatory and if he's not there himself you guys will have video chats to take your mind off work. his dedication knows no bounds, trust me.

• boy is super vigilant about your health but not in an annoying naggy way. he sends you reminers to drink water and have a meal because he doesn't want his dearest person hurting herself (｡╯︵╰｡)

• you guys met at a debate competition. Kuroo didn't really want to be there but he was recruited by his peers to fill in for another person from the debate club who couldn't make it. he's always this kind, right?

• funny thing is that you never had an "official" debate but instead one in the corridor of the building the competition was held in. you were trying desperately to get a drink stuck in the vending machine when Kuroo came to your rescue.

• he taught you a useful hack how to get those things free but also teased you about not asking for help sooner you know he had to

• you ended up arguing over whether or not it was okay to ask strangers for help. it was dumb and far from any structured debate, but it was fun! Kuroo really had a bast seeing you switch from your polite ways to excitable chatter during your conversation and knew immediately he liked you.

• so, you exchanged numbers and social media before parting ways. getting together as an official couple no doubt took a while but that only resulted in a relationship that was all the more sound and comfortable for the both of you (*´▽`*)

• if anyone plans to take advantage of your politeness, Kuroo will just stare at them over your shoulder with that smile of his. i assure you no one is going to take advantage of you on his watch! "hmm? what was that you were about to say? let us hear it."

• you playfully tease each other on daily basis, light-hearted banter and snarky remarks, but by god when he tries to be the slightest bit more romantic you completely miss the point. rip Kuroo he's taken it as a challenge to make you flustered and will stop at nothing.

• you guys would have so much fun debating over everything from philosophy to ridiculous opinions such as whether cheese goes before or after the ham on a sandwich.

• gets all smug when you start being more talkative with him because you're showing a special side to yourself, hehe.

• has the s o f t e s t smile on his face when he listens to you talk !! like, resting his chin on his palm and leaning in, hanging on your each and every word while thinking how precious you are ♡︎

• can't forget about all the cursed memes you send each other in the middle of the night! not mention how you have entire conversations in them??

• it's completely all right if you don't have advice to give. when Kuroo's feeling down you being there is all be needs ♡︎ your presence alone is enough to remind him everything is going to be okay.

• !! sharing earbuds during bus, car and train rides !! change my mind. he especially likes it if you rest your head on his shoulder all the while, it makes him feel happy that you trust him so much. plus the fluffy intimacy.

• once he tried doing the same to you but he's kinda heavy so eventually you had to tell him to lift it. but in exchange, you let him lay his head on your lap. he actually prefers it that way now.

• such an overly dramatic couple honestly. if one of you starts acting dramatic, the other will jump the bandwagon no questions asked. yeah . . . your friends don't third-wheel on your dates much . . .

• your dates include shopping for fashion (imagine trying to style his hair to fit with the rest of his outfit but the last second it just goes poof), aimless "we'll figure out a date on the way there" drives, trying out funky science experiments from youtube, donating blood, pillow fort parties and childhood movie nights ♡︎

♫︎ music box

— Yellow by Coldplay

— Nicholas Sparks by Kinda Collective

— Sweet Talk by Saint Motel

— Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz

— Dance, baby! by Pablo

𑁍 jewellery box

— favourite memory with you

afrer a big volleyball game victory Kuroo had decided to cofess to you. it was the perfect opportunity, he was feeling the most confident and ready. so, after the celebration with his teammates he invited you over to his place where you'd get some peace and quiet. however, before he got to say what he'd been agonising over for months now, you asked to play a song for him. you had written it yourself, especially for him, for this victory and your own confession! boy was absolutely shooketh but all the more smitten. he almost cried you were so perfect shh it was you both laughed as he said his confession right after ♡︎

— favourite activity to do together

i said it before and i'm gonna say it again: Kuroo loves playfully bantering with you. your wit never ceases to surprise him but it also gives him an excuse to throw an arm around your shoulder and get even closer to you ♡︎ as for actual activities i wanna say simply hanging out with you is more than enough for Kuroo because it's then when you're the most relaxed. it also leaves room for more spontaneous dates, your adventures are always new and exciting!

— favourite place to kiss you

Kuroo is a tease and will kiss you anywhere but the lips (or any other place you want him to). he loves giving you kisses but in most situations you might think he lives to see your pout or glare as he takes his time. in the end though, his kisses are the sweetest, meant only for you. in conclusion, i think his preferences very much shift according to yours.

— favourite nicknames to call you by

okay i know 'kitten' is very popular in the fandom, and i think since you like cats he enjoys calling you by it. but the nicknames he likes calling you by the most are usually in foreign languages, like 'chica' 'ma cherie' etc. if you like nicknames then do i have good news for you because cheesy ones as 'hunny bun' and 'boo' are also on his list!

— favourite thing about you

your sense of humour, among other things, is something Kuroo finds endearing about you! it's very similar to his own so he thinks of it as something that connects the two of you. also, the fact that you're in touch with your emotions is precious in his eyes. it's not common these days so you're a special treasure to him ♡︎

♡︎ runner up: Rintaro Suna

hihi! here i am doing requests hahahahaa . . . right. no excuses. i am terribly sorry for the wait so i'm trying to improve the quality of these in an attempt to make-up for the mega long wait. i sincerely hope you see and loke this!! stay safe and remember to be kind to yourself ♡︎

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Eight

       "How'd you enjoy today's session?" I heard from behind me. Murdoc caught up to me as I started down the sidewalk.

        "It was nice," I sighed with grateful tranquility. I hadn't felt unattached from stress for a while and it felt good to escape, even if just for an hour. "What about you?"

        "It was relaxing, I suppose," he smiled at me.

        I couldn't help but smile back before facing forward once more and proceeding in the direction of my apartment. "What was so special about today's session?"

       Murdoc already had his eyes on me, looking at me with a goofy and distracted smile. "O-oh-" he shook his head, snapping out of his daze. "Nothing really, just wondering." He proceeded to follow me, taking strides at the same pace as me. "Well, even if I didn't talk a lot today again, it was nice seeing you since the last time we talked."

       I immediately blushed and my bottom lip quivered with unbelievable and bubbly excitement. "I agree," I nodded. "What are you going home to?" I asked.

       "More work," he said. "But fun work, so I have no right to complain. What about you?"

       I sighed, "More work at the convenience store . . . Exhausting work."

       Murdoc clicked his tongue, "Bummer . . . Maybe I'll come visit you again and make it less exhausting."

       I giggled, "You're gonna get me fired one day, I swear."

       "And why's that?"

       "Well . . . I mean, you make me unprofessional, no offence."

       Murdoc scoffed with an unexpected, unsteady grin, "W-what do you mean?"

       "I'm supposed to be assisting people and topping up shelves, not conversing." We reached the cross walk, Murdoc taking it upon himself to stick his arm out in front of me so I couldn't walk any further. It made me laugh and shake my head with embarrassment.

       He looked down at me as I pushed his arm away from my chest, "Is it not worth getting fired to have a little laugh?"

       I thought about it for a second, "Nah."

       As the streetlights turned red, we proceeded to walk with the rest of the crowd. "I don't take 'Nah' for an answer." I smirked up at him, wondering if he'd continue to walk his own way or if he'd rather follow me. "Would it count as assisting people if I came to visit you and bought something?"

       I was about to open my mouth in disagreement but I had nothing to disagree to, "I-I guess it does."

       "Good. I'll come visit you during my break then."

       I sighed with defeat, but looked forward to his company. "I'll see you in a few hours," I waved, turning to walk away.

       "Farewell," he mumbled from behind me.

       As I got inside, I didn't bother locking the door. I ripped my clothes off and jumped into my uniform, grabbing my drawstring bag and digging through the kitchen for a few snack bars and a water bottle to bring. I rushed out the door and continued with my work routine.

       I considered my convenience store work exhausting because we had our huge monthly supply, which meant lifting endless towers of heavy boxes and taking extra time with fragile items. It was a pain in the ass to say the least, as well as a pain in my back by the time the shift ended, but it wasn't something I had the audacity to whine about. I decided to stop ranting in my head and focus more on the positives; because even if I was in desperate need of a massage, I would see Murdoc that evening, making it all worth it.

       After tossing another empty box into the back room and stretching my back once, I heard a bell ring from to front door. It wasn't usually apart of my convenience store employee procedure, but I ambled towards the front to check on the customer, just in case. Realizing it wasn't the familiar leather and chains I came to know, I was beginning to lose hope, and found myself packing everything away for the night. However, seconds away from starting the last shelf, I heard another jingle and a smile immediately painted itself on my face. To the sound and rhythm of his infamous Cuban heels, I followed his footsteps to see his curious expression wander throughout the store. I watched him from afar, slowly catching his attention as he moved about, grinning in my direction.

       "You realize I'm minutes away from closing, right?" I smirked.

       Murdoc made a beeline towards me, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he titled his head. "I didn't wanna bug you while you were busy, like the considerate gentleman I am."

       I quietly laughed as we met in the middle of the foods aisle, "Thanks for thinking about that. I was starting to convince myself you weren't coming at all."

       "Oh, I never break a promise," he said, following me as I headed back to my unloading station. "Besides, I know you don't drive or take the taxi, so I figured I'd walk you home myself if you'd like." I nearly stopped in my tracks to look back at him with bewilderment. Not that Murdoc wasn't naturally a kind man, but it still caught me by surprise that he seemed to care so much. Maybe he was just flirting with me - that was also a possibility - but he still decided to go out of his way to spend more time with me, and my heart melted.

        "Aww . . ." I smiled, scooping a handful of toys and shuffling up and down the kids' isle while Murdoc watched me put them away.

         "Also, I was hoping to catch up a little after your shift?" he questioned.

       I glanced back at him with excitement, but stopped myself within a moment, remembering my plans. "Damn," I sighed. "I wish I could, Muds, but I've got a meeting at the theatre." Convenience store shifts weren't usually at that time of night; it was rare I ever closed the store by myself. So if I couldn't make it to my theatre ticket-selling position in the evenings, I would arrive for any after hour meetings to catch up. It wasn't very nice working late during busy movie nights but at least it gave me another reason to dismiss Cassidy's schedule as nothing to do with me. I acknowledged that this much doubt I had about her was a huge red flag but I couldn't just not give her any chance I could to help me get my social life back. Even if our friendship was doing more harm than good, I admitted.

       "(Y/N), c'mon, you're always working," Murdoc protested, pulling my hands down from the ledges and to my sides.

     I ignored him and proceeded to stock the shelves in front of me, "You're beginning to sound an awful lot like Cassidy." Murdoc seemed to take deep offence to my comment as he backed up, furrowing his eyebrows and crinkling his nose with disgust. I felt instant regret, choking on air as I saw how he took it and I watched him with worried eyes. "I-I didn't mean it like that, I-"

       Murdoc held his hand up to pause my babbling, "I know, (Y/N)." We both smiled in understanding and he leaned against the shelf beside me. "I can't be the only one who thinks you need to have a life, though," he said.

       "Well . . . you're not, but . . . I don't think there's anything wrong with succeeding well as an employee for a life," I responded.

       "That's not a life, (Y/N), that's just a stepping stone to achieving greater things in life." He got me there. "When're you free next?"

       I paused. "Maybe . . . Maybe this weekend, but Cassidy said she wanted to bri-"

       "Nope," Murdoc immediately shook his head. "You know what happens when you go out with her," he continued. I couldn't hear the disappointment in his tone, but there was no way he wasn't displeased with my ongoing doormat habits.

      I sighed and lowered my head in guilt, "I-I know, Mudz, but . . . I feel so bad shutting her down. She's just trying to help me . . ."

       "Doesn't seem like it," he disagreed. "Why don't you just take the day off for yourself instead and . . . go do things you've always wanted to do?"

       "Like what?"

       "You got a bucket list?"

       I shook my head, "All I've ever thought about since being employed is making money to survive living in an apartment and getting into college." Murdoc widened his eyes with disbelief. "I never made time for fun because . . . I felt like it wasn't important."

       I heard an audible sigh and I started walking down the aisle towards the back, Murdoc following me like a lost puppy. "Y-you can't just not make time for recreation," he said. I was about to enter the back room before he stopped me, his hand placed gently on my forearm to get my attention. "Wait . . . Why don't we make one together? Then on the weekend, instead of hanging with Cassidy, we go out together." We both paused. "N-not 'out together', but y-you know what I mean," he mumbled.

       I smiled, "I better not be pulling you away from any plans you made before me . . ."

       He shook his head, "You're more important either way."

       I couldn't tell you why, but I instinctively wrapped my arms around him. "Thanks for helping me," I said, my appreciation muffled by squishing my face into his chest.

       He was caught off guard at first, but slowly, his arms snaked around my waist as we held each other for a few ethereal seconds. "Yeah . . . No problem."

       I let go, "Now I better get back to work."

       "Good idea," Murdoc smirked, pointing finger guns in my direction. "I'll see you on the weekend, though?"

       I nodded, "See ya," and watched him leave my side for the rest of the night.

       The rest of the week had felt short but almost too short. I understood the only meaning to my life at that point was to work and work and work in between lonely nights at home laying restlessly in bed, but I didn't want time to fly by so quickly. It was all worth it to pay off what I needed to graduate with a better chance at life, but I felt as though I was wasting my time. Maybe Murdoc was right about recreation? With that, I couldn't wait for him to get back to my text accompanied with a smiling face.

        "I should be done my meeting at 6:00 so why don't you stop by at around 6:30?" he texted.

         "Sure thing!"

         He sent me an okay hand emoji afterwards. It seemed to be his favourite emoji apart from the eggplant and cucumber emojis, but I dismissed the thought with a laugh.

       Murdoc and I didn't text daily, but when we did, he seemed to be the one texting first asking me what I was up to. I'd respond with either "work" or "nothing" every time and proceed to ask him how he was doing, which he would respond with either "excellent" or "fine" every time. Each conversation starters were predictable but the longer the conversations went on the more special each topic proved to be. I hadn't had many contacts in my phone but our chats felt like something I'd never experienced before. There wasn't a lot of deep importance or meaning to our messages; just stupid, yet somehow still funny jokes and him boosting my confidence without realizing it through admiration and reassuring or validating me when I'm doubtful. I guess the back and forth was important to me after all, but I could never tell with Murdoc. After all, I can't be the only person he comforts and supports in a special way, can I?

       I shut down my daydreaming and stood up from my warm, comfy nest of blankets. Part of me almost contemplated flaking on Murdoc just so I could lay in bed all day, but that's the last thing I needed in such desperate times as such. Desperate for enjoyable leisure, I mean. I fetched my wallet in search for loose coins to pay for public transit but three pounds weren't the only thing I couldn't find. I swore when I got my monthly pay from the convenience store I went straight to the bank for cash just in case, even if I never ended up using it. But the fifty pounds I had just . . . disappeared.

       I blinked with confusion, stammering to myself as I began to look around the apartment. Did I drop it? Did I leave it somewhere? Did Cassidy mistake it for her money? "Cass?" I called out, knocking lightly on her bedroom door.

       I heard groaning from the other side, as well as shuffling, and she opened the door with tired, sleepy eyes. "What's wrong?" she murmured.

       "I-I thought I withdrew five tenners a few days ago but they're just . . . gone," I explained. She looked at me carelessly, sighing and scratching her neck. I waited for an answer but it seemed as though she was waiting for me to talk some more. "Have you seen them anywhere?"

       She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Nope," she yawned. "I'll tell you when I do, though," she said, closing the door without a goodbye.

       I'd never seen Cassidy so inattentive but then again, she came back from a party that night. She got home at probably two in the morning and had been sleeping off her hangover since, so I decided I wouldn't take it personally, leaving and locking up the apartment.

       Lucky enough to see a few pounds laying around the living room, I was dropped off just a block or two away from Murdoc's home. As I remembered from before, his roommates weren't there the first time I was invited, but Murdoc mentioned they were home for the weekend and actually excited to meet me this time around.

       Thinking about it made me smile as I walked up the front steps of the dwelling. After a few seconds of deep breathing, I knocked on the door, backing up and fiddling with my fingers nervously. After ten eerily long seconds, the door opened to my one and only Grinch, a smile already plastered onto his poorly shaved jaw. Classic Murdoc.

       "Hey, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed. "C'mon in," he invited, stepping out of the way and gesturing with his arm for me to enter. I did so with a grin, watching him shut the door behind me and place his hands on his waist. "How've you been?" he asked.

       "Good, thanks," I quietly laughed at his enthusiasm. "How about you?"

       "Great!" he responded. I'd never seen this keen side of Murdoc, but I couldn't be more interested in getting to know him. "My band-" he stuttered. "M-my mates are this way," he sweat, scratching the back of his neck. I followed him down the hall towards what I assumed was the living room, entering the intriguing aura it emitted.

       The whole house had a sort of reckless and "I really couldn't care less, I just want to hang out" vibe I never knew I needed to feel until that very moment. The walls weren't afraid to show their true age, just like the rest of the house's architecture, the decorations were rather questionable but unique and enthralling, and the furniture definitely didn't match, but still seemed comfortable enough you wouldn't mind. I loved it.

       Two men were sitting on the couch, standing up and turning their attention to the sound of our footsteps entering the scene. "Russ, D', this is (Y/N)," Murdoc introduced as I stood beside him timorously.

       The first of the two to walk up to me was a bigger African American man, about 5'7, wearing a plain white shirt under an army green jacket and tucked into loose fitting jeans. To top off the look he stood in black army-esque books, and sat a red beanie over his shaved head. He held out his hand. "Russel Hobbs," he smiled. Now that I saw him up close, I couldn't ignore his milky white eyes, catching me off guard.

       I took his hand and shook it, "Nice to meet you."

       "I'm 2-D!" called the next man, taking my hand in his and shaking me like a maraca. The kid, pale, lanky and at least 6'2, had vibrant blue locks sticking out in the oddest of places as if it'd never been combed down before. He wore a baggy baby pink t-shirt and wrinkled blue jeans cuffed just high enough to see his bright neon pink socks hidden by his fancy leather shoes. I'd noticed his nails were painted mismatched colours as he shook me violently before looking up at his seemingly eyeless sockets.

       "Charmed," I laughed as he let go.

       "You must be (Y/N)!" I heard from behind me, coming face to face with a 5'2 tall Japanese girl giving herself extra oomph with her white heeled booties. "I'm Noodle," she smiled, waving then holding her hand out for me. I took it with secret surprise, not realizing Murdoc had a female buddy living with them as well. She had great taste in fashion too, rocking her pink blouse hanging off her right shoulder and over her black miniskirt. She had two pigtails taming her choppy black hair, and I noticed that she would be the one of the four in that house with actual human eyes; not that her beautiful emerald gems were a bad thing to have.

       "Nice to meet you, Noodle," I smiled, strongly influenced by her energy.

       "Well, (Y/N) and I will be upstairs if you need us," Murdoc said, turning on his heel, and waving goodbye we retired to his place of hiding.

       His chamber was all too familiar, maybe even too familiar. In fact, it felt an awful lot like home for me; as if I never should've left the first time he invited me over . . . Despite how strange it sounded.

       "So!" the man clapped, pulling out a piece of paper and pen from his desk. "Start dropping names, what do you do for fun?" he asked, getting down to business with a clipboard on his lap.

       I smiled, getting comfortable beside him as we sat on his bed, "Writing music, of course."

       Murdoc made sure to take notes but it immediately went quiet. "Well? Anything else?" he chuckled.

       "Uh . . ." I stammered, turning back at him with a wince.

       "That's it?" he laughed.

       I found myself laughing awkwardly, ". . . U-uh, yeah . . ."

       "How about . . ." Murdoc pondered. "You work at a movie theatre, right? Don't you ever go watch any movies?"

       I shook my head, "Sure, I get offers to see movies all the time, but I never have time to go."

       "Oh, well that's gonna change," Murdoc smirked.

       I shook my head and chuckled, "You can't just change my work schedules, Mudz, or I'll make you pay for my education when Fall comes around."

         "At least then you won't be so tied down," he said. "There are so many places you're missing out on, so many sights you've gotta see!" I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face to look at the man in all his excitement. He wrapped an arm around me, his hand risen in the air as if he was introducing me to the world - the closet doors across from us - like I'd never seen it before; and honestly, he might as well have been. It's not like I'd been anywhere outside of London, England for the past ten years, except for in my dreams. "In fact, when my band gets up and running again, I'll take you on tour with us," he insisted.

       I couldn't help but laugh at his commitment. The thought was surreal but thrilling at the same time, I found myself daydreaming about it.

       Murdoc and me, feeling the bumpy road below us as we shared the same bunk, whispering among each other as everyone else fell asleep.  Or Murdoc and me, sitting in the same row together, looking out at the clouds we soared above before settling on a movie to watch together. Maybe even Murdoc and me, feeling the mist of the tides as they crashed against the boat while we watched for whales or sea turtles or dolphins. Well . . . Maybe not that one in particular, but now that I thought about it, giving up university to dedicate my life to keeping Murdoc company while he produced music didn't seem so bad.

       "Of course, I wouldn't make you do something you didn't want to," Murdoc started, catching my attention once again. "But then again, there are a few producers I could get in contact with for you and you could meet them face to face," he sang convincingly.

       "Couldn't you just produce my music for me?" I chuckled.

       "I'd love to, but then I wouldn't have enough reasons to persuade you into tagging along with me."

       I laughed, rolling my eyes, "You got me there." I sighed, feeling myself fall back onto his sheets and Murdoc followed, his arm brushing against mine.

       "I wasn't kidding, too." I looked at him with confusion, but near exhilaration at his proposal. "If we could get you into university so you can get that bachelors degree; you'd have a better chance at being recommended. As a sort of reference figure, I could provide you the best of the best, front-of-the-line selection any musician could ever dream of!"

       I turned my head to him, speechless. "A-are you serious?"

       "D-did I stutter?" He mocked. Smartass . . .

       I could hardly believe it. It was all I'd ever wanted, to be recognized for my writing and to finally have a chance at succeeding in life. It made my heart ache with overwhelming, buoyant relief. "Murdoc . . . You don't know how much that'd mean to me!"

       I watched his smug smile grow, "Only the best for you." I couldn't tell if this was genuine kindness or he was just trying to be sly, but he still held out his hand, and there was no way in Hell I wasn't taking it.

       "Murdoc, holy shit!" I boomed. "I can't believe this, oh, my God, I could kiss you!" I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back as much enthusiasm as I could in the moment; but before I could even look back in his direction, I felt a pair of lips land on mine. Out of instinct, I closed my eyes, and knowing it was Murdoc, I kissed back.

       Suddenly, everything slowed down. I heard him shuffle beside me and a hand reached my face, his long nails tapping my cheeks before his palm gently cradled my cheek. We broke away for a breath and I opened my eyes to see the man looking down at me, his eyes softening up.

       I couldn't recall ever seeing him so genuinely romantic before and it felt strange to witness, especially after something so . . . unlike him, I could say. But then why did I enjoy the unforeseen picture of it all? I adored the moment so much I kissed him again myself, and he had no problem pulling me into him. His hand slid behind my head, causing me to press myself against him more. He clearly enjoyed how rough it was quickly playing out and I would be lying if I said I didn't too.

       Soon enough, his weight was almost on top of me and his lips slowly trailed to my jawline. He crawled over me, his waist against mine as he planted kisses in the crook of my neck. I almost winced in both pain and anticipation as he began to nibble on my skin, twisting it and surely leaving marks. My hands slid up his back and almost under his shirt, holding him as he ran his tongue against the love bites he left. After a few minutes of feeling each other up, I even imagined things escalating further before a knock was heard from the door. Naturally, Murdoc was easily irritated. He lifted himself from me, sitting on his knees, one of my legs in between his as he looked back, daggers piercing from his eyes. "What?" he growled.

       "Russ is heating up some left overs if you two wanted any." It was 2-D's thick British accent, loud and clear through the wooden door.

       Murdoc sighed, looking down at me as he bit his lip. I felt so awkward doing nothing but I wasn't sure what I could do. I simply laid still as he observed my neck, studying the progress he made. "Sure, whatever!" Murdoc called back, turning away from me once more.

       "'A'ight, come downstairs when you're ready," 2-D said. We heard him leave the hall and Murdoc slowly got off of me, sighing. I propped myself up, sitting straight and brushing myself off. I watched the man rub his neck and hold his hand out, not bothering to look at me. I could tell he was a little embarrassed being cut off like that, but I didn't mind at all. I thought it was rather sweet and possibly cute to see his reaction. I took his hand in mine and he seemed surprised when I did, looking back at me with confusion written in his eyes. Still, he accepted me with a smile and held tight, starting for the bedroom door and leaving the room behind as we headed downstairs.

       Supper was swell. I thanked Murdoc and his friends for the food and we conversed quietly, Murdoc not even making an effort to participate. It concerned me how quiet he was but I figured it was on account of what happened prior to the meal; I understood the frustration of cockblocking. I nodded to myself in understanding and kept on eating, noticing he wasn't really touching his food either. 2-D was the first to finish, leaving his plate empty as he left for his room. Noodle was next to leave, taking 2-D's plate with her to the sink to wash and put away. Russel paid close attention to Murdoc and me, and I'm almost 110 percent sure he noticed the hickeys on my neck.

       "Not hungry, I suppose?" he commented, addressing Murdoc. Murdoc looked up at him and simply grumbled, laying his fork down on his plate of seemingly tsunami-hit potatoes and steak. Russel sighed and rolled his eyes, lifting himself from his seat with his own plate and leaving us by ourselves. I'd finished my plate by then and looked back at Murdoc, who seemed much more content when the other three weren't around.

       By the time it was dead quite and not a soul could be heard, Murdoc took a single tiny bite of his food before pushing his plate away. He looked towards me, "Are you still hungry?"

       I shook my head and he took my plate. "Thank you," I smile, but he didn't smile back. He left his seat and placed the two dishes on the counter, walking back over to me. I stood from my seat and tucked in the chair. "Thanks for having me," I said.

       Murdoc looked up at me, his arms folded on his chest. "Uh, no problem," he responded.

       I smiled at the peaceful, yet slightly awkward aura in between us. "It's getting late, though . . . Perhaps I should leave," I said, taking a single step towards the exit.

       "Let me walk you out," Murdoc offered, hesitantly sticking out his elbow. I proceeded to grin, taking his arm and wrapping it around mine as he escorted me to the entrance. He opened the front door and I slowly walked out, leaving a reserved Murdoc behind. "I hope you have a wonderful evening, (Y/N)."

       I let go of him and turned back around, "You too . . . I'll see you on Tuesday." He nodded, giving me one last slanted smile to daydream about until our next session together.

[belsbabies]

tovie’s first date conversation sort of

What are you the most proud of?

The animal sanctuary is the first thing that comes to mind. It was just... such a dream I had. The most unattainable dream. I wanted to live in New York City and start my own life on my own terms, and I did that. It’s not... I don’t have a huge glamorous life, you know, but... it’s mine. 

What are you the most ashamed of?

I’m not ashamed, per se, but I’m not exactly proud of how long I stayed in... what turned out to be a pretty toxic relationship. I knew I was being cheated on, but I didn’t know that I deserved better than that. I guess I am a bit ashamed of that.

If you could go back and change one decision in your life, what would it be?

I had a baby brother when I was about ten. Our parents didn’t take the best care of us, so I raised him as best I could on my own. When I was thirteen and he was about three, we found out he was deaf, so I made the decision that he needed parents who could take care of him. I got the government involved and we both became foster children, and I know it was the best thing to do, but I never saw him again. If I could do it over again, I’d make sure they kept us together.

What is your biggest dream in life?

I’ve achieved so many of my dreams, sometimes it’s hard to imagine anything else. But I... not to scare you off - promise not to run away, okay? - but I had my dream wedding, but not my dream marriage. Not even close. For a while I thought I didn’t want to be married again, but now I think it might be nice. If it were... the right person. You know?

What difference would it make in your life if you felt completely safe, accepted, and loved?

I don’t know if I would know... if someone loved me. I’ve thought before that someone did, but I’ve been wrong. People always say when you know you know, right? I guess that’s true, and I’ll know when I know. I suppose it would change... everything.

Do you think your parents did a good job raising you while you were growing up? Why or why not?

No, God, no. I don’t think they ever wanted to be parents. Elliot and I - that’s my brother’s name, Elliot - were not planned. They did love us, I think, but it was the same way they loved each other, and the world, just... fleeting. They were always running from something, and sometimes they took me with them when they shouldn’t have, and sometimes they left me behind when they shouldn’t have. I was raised by books and my blind grandmother, but mostly by myself. I think I did a good job. I had a good model of how not to be, anyway.

What's one thing that you wish people understood about you?

Sometimes people see that I’m kind and they’ll try to take advantage of that. It used to work. Because putting out the image that I’m a kind, sweet, understanding person took precedence over my own self-worth? I wouldn’t stand up for myself for fear of being seen as a bitch. But I work really hard at being kind. I’m naturally a really angry person, and it’s taken a lot of therapy and meditation for me to push that aside and empathize. Does that make me sound crazy? I don’t know, I just... the answer to the question I guess is that I wish people understood that I am not a doormat, I’m just choosing to be kind because that’s who I want to be.

What is your biggest flaw?

I think I might be too guarded. Since my divorce I’ve been very... distrustful. I’m trying to stop doing that. I want to be more trusting, and let someone in. Like... now, kind of.

What event in your life has shaped you most as a person, and how did it do so?

When they took Elliot away. That changed everything. I probably would have given up on school to raise him, and we both would have struggled enormously, so I know it was for the best. But losing him entirely gave me such a... passion and drive. I wanted to be the best person I could be for him. So that he might be proud of me if he ever found me again. I changed my name for him. Did I ever tell you that’s why I’ve got ‘Elliot’ tattooed? I changed my name again when I got married and it just felt like such a betrayal to him to give it up.

Have you ever treated a person in a way that you regret?

And related to that: What would you do differently if given a chance?

Oh, yeah. I think everyone has. I had a boyfriend in high school who I didn’t love at all. He was a distraction from my pain. He didn’t love me either, but he didn’t deserve a lot of the anger I took out on him.

Do you think it's possible for men and women to be "just friends?"

Of course. Not everyone wants to sleep together, sometimes a friendship is even better than a love story anyway. 

Would you rather be rich and lonely or financially destitute with lots of great family and friends? Why?

Well, I can’t say I’ve been in either situation. I’ve been destitute and lonely, that was a completely terrible time. And now I’m doing well financially, and I have lovely friends, and I’ve got my brother back, and I’m on a date with the most beautiful man in the world. But if I had to choose, I would choose to have all the people in my life and I’d give up the money. In a heartbeat.

Tell me about something you did when you were drunk that you've never confessed to anyone.

I convinced an entire group of strangers in a pub that I was Russian. I did a terrible accent the whole night, so apparently they were very drunk too, to believe it. One of them still texts me sometimes and I feel the need to keep up the charade for some reason. I live in fear that one of them will come into the clinic or the shelter.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be and why?

 I’d be taller. Don’t laugh, I’m serious. I’m extremely small.

If you knew you would die tomorrow, how would you spend today?

Like this... with you... here. Maybe my dogs would be here, can we bring my dogs along next time?

Are you truly happy?

And why or why not?

I am. I love my job, even when it’s heartbreaking. I love my little house, I love this city. I love my friends. I love my dogs. I’m not happy all the time, every day, I do have moments of anxiety and sadness and regret, but... overall, yeah. I would say life is good.

Have you ever been in love?

And how do you know? What was it like for you?

Yes. Even after everything, I still maintain that I was in love. I just wasn’t loved back. I know I loved him because I would have done anything for him. I thought maybe he just needed some space and he’d come back to me. My idea of love was wrong, but it was still love, I think.

When you're home alone, and nobody else is around, how do you like to spend your time?

I dance in my underwear and I talk to my dogs. I also like to watch ridiculous reality shows like The Bachelor and Big Brother. It’s a problem. Is that a deal breaker?

What do you want people to say at your funeral?

That I was kind. That I made people feel important and loved, and that I made them smile. 

If you could have a conversation with anyone living or dead, who would it be and why?

It would be with this cute guy I’ve been fancying for a little while. His name’s Tony and he’s a tattoo artist and he barely talks at all, so I’d like to loosen him up with a bit of wine and a cityscape and get to know him.

Do you think you're a genuinely good person?

And why or why not?

Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t think anyone is either good or bad. I think we are what we repeatedly do. Intentions also matter. It’s complicated. I try to put good out into the world, that’s all I’ll say.

How did you choose your current profession?

Are you happy with your job? Would you rather be doing something different?

My grandmother had a little greenhouse where she would take injured animals from the woods by her house. She taught me how to treat them kindly and make sure they weren’t afraid. I’ve applied what I learned in that little greenhouse to my entire life. 

If money were not an issue, how would you spend your time each day?

I would still have the shelter. I might still work at the clinic too, actually, maybe just fewer hours. I would spend more time with the people I care about. I would read every book I could get my hands on. I’d travel all over. I’d pick apples and make pies from them and just walk barefoot in the grass and feel the wind in my hair. The little things, you know?

Tell me about your political leanings.

Have they changed? How were they developed or influenced?

Oh, here’s something you might not know about me, I am technically not a US citizen. So I can’t vote. I do have opinions, though, mostly left-leaning, equality-centred opinions. I didn’t know anything about politics at all growing up, except for whatever war my parents were protesting at any given time, so I kind of had to teach myself that. That, and everything else I know.

What's one thing that you do on a regular basis that you hate doing, but nobody knows that you despise doing it?

Well, I think it’s probably the same as anyone who works with clients or customers or patients or humans in general. Sometimes people are ridiculous or mean or something, and you can’t tell them so. It’s very difficult sometimes not to say “Your budgie does not need to be on a gluten free diet, Brenda, you’re just an idiot!”

[meleuki]

Thanks for the tag @flowrxchild​, @satans-helper, all my love to you both x 

What was the last thing you read?

if we’re being specific, I read @satans-helper​ post completely. low-key dude, you remind me of myself. 

Favourite movie?

The Hobbit, I just watched all three the other day and my love for them was remembered. 

Favourite book?

I AM DEATH by Chris Carter. It will forever be my favourite, I’ve never read anything as good as that book. 

Dream date?

A walk through a forest, or to the beach. Anything that involves a good long drive, with good music. 

Do you have a crush?

I do, and we’ve been on a few dates recently. 

What are your hobbies?

Writing, painting, drawing, yoga, astrology, tarot, learning about everything that catches my eye - mostly butterflies, outer space, mythology of any kind. I can also never get enough of making things with my hands, sculpting, cooking, baking etc. 

What’s your favourite time of day?

My usual wake up time, that my body has gotten used to, is 4-5am. So the early morning. I wake up and make coffee and breakfast, and watch the sunrise. When it’s nice and cool in the morning is my favourite. 

If you could look like anything, what would you look like?

A flowy forest fairy type gal I guess, that’s what I’d aim for. 

Are you romantic?

Yes and no, that to me - is complicated. I wish to be, and I can be if I really feel the need to, but my demeanour around people I love is often more friendly than romantic. 

What’s your favourite type of weather?

Sunny, but with a cool breeze. I like to be able to wear things that cover my whole body, and not feel over-heated. 

What do you like talking about?

Astrology, I would talk about it all the time if I could, but the people around me aren’t so keen on hearing about it all. Also, music, like the blues and rock n roll, I love when someone can return my enthusiasm about Muddy Waters, The Kings, Jimi Hendrix or Stevie Ray Vaughan.

What are your turn ons?

Someone who will roll with my ramblings; make sense out of nonsense; try something they’ve never done; mother nature’s child; understanding and supportive; a little wild and a little crazy; considerate; a good heart. 

Turn offs?

Over-confidence, selfishness, dishonest, disloyal. Doesn’t take any advice. This is a specific thing, but if in a conversation I am the only one asking the questions.  

If you got a tattoo what would it be and where would you get it?

Oh, I want many. I want a triangle on my right shoulder, covered in flowers and vines, with my mother, grandmother, and sister’s name at each corner. I also would like to get a protection sigil tattooed on the space between my thumb and pointer finger. 

but that’s for when I have money. 

Do you have any pets?

A small dog named Wesley, I love him a lot. 

Dream job?

Designing album covers or just being an artist. An author, or a professor of Creative Writing, I would like to be a lecturer one day. 

Dream place to live?

I would like to build my own place, by a lake in the woods, with a couple of dogs, maybe some chickens. Cabin or cottage vibes throughout the whole house. 

Dream vacation?

I want to travel Canada, and go see all the lakes and forests. Portugal is also on my list. ( @livewiredroger​ )

Do you have any piercings?

Just the two in my earlobes. I wanna get my septum and line a few up my ears however.

If you had kids, what would you name them?

Ophelia and Titan are the only names I’m sure of at the moment. 

What are your best traits?

I am straightforward when I need to be. I believe I am kind, and I do my best to live up to that belief every day. I will talk about anything and everything. I think a lot. 

Worst traits?

I often get tired and irritable, which makes it easy for me to snap at people or sound uninterested in conversation. I’m in the process of learning how to still be kind no matter what mood I am in. I am unaware of how much I ramble on sometimes. 

What’s your worst fear?

Loss of my sight.

What do you want to eat right now?

Uhm, nothing really. Chicken and spinach maybe? I just ate so I have no idea what my body wants. 

What’s your best vacation you’ve ever been on?

Every year I go to Sydney for Christmas, to see my grandparents and other family. Each year seems to be better than the last, so I’m not to sure which is my favourite. 

Favourite city?

Coimbra, Portugal. 

Favourite social media platform?

Tumblr. 

Favourite article of clothing?

My long hippie skirt that I wear whenever I get the chance. It’s gorgeous and I’m in love with it. 

Do you play any sports?

I used to play Ice Hockey. I had to stop because of health issues, and I’m not sure I want to play again. Although, I do miss skating a lot. 

Favourite meal of the day?

Lunch. 

What are you excited for?

Christmas! I can’t wait to see my family, go to the beach everyday and enjoy summer once again. 

Not excited for?

I’m not really sure, there isn’t anything that makes me feel awful at the moment. 

When was the last time you cried?

Last night, my head was hurting as well as my throat and I couldn’t talk at all. 

Dream house?

One that I built myself. 

What’s something you hate about the world?

Selfish people, selfish things, selfish minds. Being the kindest you can be, no matter how awful people are to you is the key to a happy life. My grandma told me, “Kind, but stern. Just because you are kind, does not mean you are a doormat.” I hate how people take kindness for granted and see it as weakness. 

What’s something you love about the world?

Love. I love, love. The feeling, the essence, the emotion, the spark of it. I love, love. @satans-helper​ is right, it’s magic. 

What scents do you like?

Earth smells, or the smell of fire smoke. Patchouli and candles, essential oils. The smell of bread baking is my favourite. Or when you hug someone and they have an inviting smell, like their own personal relaxer. (I dunno how else to describe that lmao)

What kind of sleeper are you?

I will sleep for hours upon end, or just a few. it really depends on how I’m feeling, what mood I’m in. 

Are you a cat or dog person?

Dogs. I am slightly afraid and slightly allergic to cats. 

How long would you survive in a zombie apocalypse?

A while I think. I used to be obsessed with Zombies. When I was 10 I even made my own get away bag. I don’t have it any more, but I remember all that was in it. I also enjoy learning about herbal medicines and such, that would probably do me some good. I also have friends who are good at conflict, which would help. So an estimate of maybe 2-3 years? probably not, I don't really know lmao. 

Are you trusting?

It takes me a while to trust people fully. 

What fictional character do you identify with?

Mitch Kramer and Slater from Dazed and Confused. My sister said Young Goob from Meet The Robinsons, and Mallory from the Spiderwick Chronicles. 

This is Goob btw. 

What labels do you commonly get?

Emotional, Straightforward, “mature for my age”. 

What song would be your life anthem?

Afraid Of The Dark by The Frights 

What issues are you dealing with rn?

My Iron, mental health, and a whole bunch of other shit that I’m not gonna get into. 

How can someone win you over?

Match my level of crazy. Be awkward and stupid and wild with me. 

What’s something about you people don’t know?

I have an interest in witchy things, most people in my life don’t have a clue. 

I tag @xx-kurt-cocaine--xx​ @livewiredroger​ @solohqrry​ @guns-n-crue​ @born-to-be-my-baby​ @antheasnow​ @eru-vande​ @malibubarbievince​ xx

[mywildloves]

I wanna talk about Harley Quinn for a sec...

Harley Quinn is a character that I identify with very closely. I've been a fan of hers for at least a decade or so. I have a signed copy of my hardcover limited edition version of Mad Love. I was going to name my daughter either Harley or Quinn if I had had a daughter.

One of the traits of Borderline Personality Disorder is a severely lost sense of identity. We dont know who we are. That's why even though I can sing really well, I could never find my own voice. I always sound like whoever sings the song I'm singing. Even though I can draw, I never found my own style. I just draw comic book covers and the octopuses... I guess that's my own thing except it isn't because I started drawing them when I had an obsession with a person who had an octopus tattoo. You all know who he is and he drew me in when I was at the brink of insanity, before I got my diagnosis. I saw Chiara Bautista's artwork and fell in love with it and I used pieces of her artwork in my own. I'm no one and everyone at the same time.

Harley Quinn embodied almost everything that I *could* identify about myself and it kept on even in adulthood. I was a research technician who went crazy and lost my job. I ended up in the psych hospital twice when I found out that Jared was talking to other girls. I've been wearing pigtails since high school. I develop obsessions with men to the point where I'm always daydreaming about them, about a perfect life with them. Thats one of the reasons why I've been with Jared for over 18 years now even though I've felt like his doormat at times. I cant live without him. Hes my Joker. Even now. I've always loved blunt objects, I have three baseball bats hidden in strategic places in my apartment. I had one in my car that Jared had to take away from me because I constantly threatened to beat people up who pissed me off. I behave recklessly, but, like Harley I have a conscience. Shes not heartless. There are many examples of her helping others and even being hero.

Since Harley became so popular it's been driving me nuts. Shes MINE. MINE!!! They cant have her, but they stole her from me. All of the Halloween costumes, the Suicide Squad movie, and now... Birds of Prey. Its bound to suck and that sucks. Shes everywhere to the point where being into her, dressing like her, dyeing your hair like hers... it's almost cliche and like 🙄🙄🙄. I wanna wear her tee shirts, I wanna put my hair in pigtails, all kinds of stuff but the fact that like shes everywhere... she's not mine anymore.

I hate that shes become popular. Its ruining her image. They dont understand her like I do and she is NOT the Harley I know in the Suicide Squad movie. People didnt even know she existed until Suicide Squad came out. I dont know, I just hate it. I felt like I *was* her in so many ways. The first time I read Mad Love I fell in love with her character. I love the complexity of her relationship with the Joker. I love her. They cant have her.

I wont be seeing Birds of Prey.

[argylemikewheeler]

102 Peach Street

|| started by this ask. will and mike are married and very happy ||

On Sunday mornings, Mike always liked to spend the early sunlight hours pulling weeds out of the garden. He’d stand in the warm sunshine, feeling the morning breeze on his arms and through his hair– he refused to cut it above his shoulders in the early nineties. Will would often stand at the kitchen window, washing the dishes, and smile down at him and their full green country yard.

It was part of Will’s therapy to tend to something that would grow and thrive if loved and taken care of– just like he would. The summer they moved out of Hawkins and into a place of their own, Mike helped Will plant greenery all along the front of the house and by the porch steps. Will watered and fixed the soil frequently, but Mike always offered to do the weeding; Will’s knees had gotten bad in his early college years from a childhood of incorrectly running (for his life) and couldn’t spend the hours hunched over like he used to.

Of course, though, Mike didn’t mind. He lovingly got his favorite pair of worn and tearing jeans and knelt in the dirt, reminding himself what it was like to actually do something with his hands– he really had something going as a kid with all those Lego projects. Those days, he really only spent time at his desk shuffling papers. Mike would willingly trade paper cuts for all that dirt under his fingernails. He didn’t dislike his job though, let that be known. Copy editing was a joy and writing in his free time reminded him of planning campaigns, but Hawkins just never had sunshine like this.

Will and Mike didn’t runaway from Hawkins necessarily, but they did give their (unwanted) family a very short notice before packing their car up and driving east. They unpacked their boxes in their small cottage, faint sounds of the ocean reminding them they were far from their childhood, but had finally come home. They eloped– in the way that they could– in ‘95. Neither spoke a word, but quietly changed the single, default name on the mailbox to both. Will painted it on with his best attempt at a flower that seemed to have a face of some kind– but maybe that was Mike’s interpretation.

Will’s middle school art students seemed to like the plant’s “face” when he drew it on their work too, understandably so: Demogorgons looked cute when they had googly eyes and smiley faces.

“Good morning, Mr. Byers.” Mike stood up and turned at the sound of a young voice behind him. A girl was standing at the end of their front walkway, holding up her bike. Her hair was in two pigtails on the top of her head, wrapped in pink fuzzy hair ties.

“Hi. What can I do for you?” He couldn’t remember her name, but he knew she lived just down the road. Her parents made them a pie when they first moved in. He was allergic to it– but he didn’t hold that against them.

“Do you know where Mr. Wheeler is?” She asked. They’d traded names so technically they weren’t noticeably married, but could still enjoy answering to the last name of the other. Mike really liked being a Byers.

“He’s just inside, I can get him if you want. What’s wrong?”

“I messed up my bike.” She sighed, holding it out to him.

“Oh! I can help with that.” Mike wiped his hands on his jeans and used his shoulder to nudge some of his curls out of his way.

“It’s not just the chain– I fixed that myself. When I fell I scratched the paint up pretty bad… and I know Mr. Wheeler has good paints in his garage.” She looked down at her accident’s handiwork– a long scrape going along the entire length of the frame.

“Oh! You need an artist’s help. I understand– I’ll be right back.” Mike grabbed the banister and swung up the front steps. He made sure not to leave any smudged fingerprints on the door as he opened it and stepped inside. He kept his dirty shoes on the doormat. “Oh, Mr. Wheeler, the girl from down the street is here to see you. She has an art emergency.”

Will ducked and emerged under the hanging cabinets in the kitchen. He’d cut his hair above his ears, almost to balance out Mike’s, and finally started letting his hair swoop back and show his forehead. He was the most handsome man Mike had ever seen, and Mike thought it every time he laid eyes on Will. He knew he was lucky just getting out of Hawkins alive, but he considered his greatest luck finding Will all those years ago.

“Sara?” Will placed his dish towel down on the counter and walked around, coming toward the door. “What happened?”

“She crashed and needs some new paint.” Mike held the door open for Will, letting him onto the porch. “Here he is, Sara.” Mike was glad someone remembered people’s names.

“Hey, sweetheart! What happened!” Will gripped Mike’s arm and braced himself as he took the stairs. Mike could practically hear Will’s joints squeaking as loudly as the wood steps.

“A car blew a stop sign and I skidded to stop so fast it went sideways and slid right out from under me!” She groaned, rolling it toward him and exposing the scrape.

“Oh, God. Are you alright?” Will asked, squeezing Mike’s arm in response.

“Yeah, I had my elbow pads and helmet on. I’m fine.” She said. “But Sandra here really got it.”

“You named her Sandra?” Will smiled and braced his knees to crouch and admire the flaking paint. His knees popped as he sank down. “I don’t think I ever named mine when I was growing up– did you, Michael?”

“Nope. Me neither.” Mike shook his head. “If I did, I completely forget by now.”

“That’s fair.” Will muttered. He adjusted his weight on his feet and ran his hand over the exposed frame. “I don’t know if I have the same color as your bike, so how about a stripe? I can give you a racing stripe right down the side!”

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.” Will laughed, nodding. “I can even do a little design for you– Michael, you know where my really nice white paint is, right? On the–”

“Top shelf of your metal cabinet, just by the garage door? Yeah. I know where.” Mike touched the top of Will’s head as he stepped past them. “I’ll get your good brushes too.”

“Thank you, Mike.” Will grinned, somewhat shyly due to their audience, and watched Mike cross the lawn.

The garage was disconnected from the house and held all of Will’s art supplies as well as Mike’s old typewriter. Will’s easel was leaned up against the model bench and Mike’s old manuscripts were still in a bit of a mess on the lid of one of Will’s toolboxes. He’d clean that later, after he found that one passage he’d written ages ago and suddenly found a way to repurpose.

It was a short paragraph, maybe three sentences, about a brief memory Mike remembered having as a kid, but knowing he’d never lived it. It was a image of this figure– this boy– passing in front of his vision and drawing him farther and farther in to him. It had been a dream Mike had, knocked out and lying on his local mall’s floor. He’d thought he was being drawn to death then, but it turned out he was brought back to consciousness by the faint tug of his heartstrings.

He wanted to find it and rework it for an upcoming anniversary. The manuscript had never seen the light or day or the desk of any publishing house, but it had stuck with Mike since he’d buried it under boxes of old bike parts and vinyl records.

Mike grabbed the paint and Will’s brushes by the door before backpedaling and going to Will and their neighbor. Will was sitting on the grass by then, legs stretched out and hands gently patting his left knee as he spoke.

“– it’s supposed to rain soon too, so my knees aren’t any better. I’m okay though, Sara. Mr. Byers and I are just old.”

“You aren’t even thirty.” Mike quipped, placing the paint beside Will and gently nudging his leg.

“I’ve got old man knees though.” Will said, rubbing them slowly. “Sara was just asking my why bones sound like popcorn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! No!” Will laughed, reaching over for her arm gently. “It’s alright! It’s funny. They do, they really do sound like popcorn. I got it from an old childhood accident.” He used the back of a paintbrush to pop the lid to the paint. Mike held the can still, letting his already dirty hands get covered in the flakes of dried white paint.

“Did you play a sport, Mr. Wheeler? My dad said he hurt his knee back in high school playing football.” Sara asked, gripping Sandra tightly by the handlebars.

“No, nothing like that. I just fell when I was a kid. I was running inside– which I shouldn’t have been doing, that’s never safe– and I tripped over something and took this big spill. Rolled myself up into knots and really bumped up both my knees.” Mike didn’t remember Will getting so good at telling that lie.

In reality, Will was running toward Hopper’s cabin, deep in the woods, completely barefoot. The ground was uneven and Will’s legs were flailing out in unhealthy and painful directions as he forced himself to go ahead another inch. It was pitch black and the rest of the Party was standing on the porch, waving him forward and screaming to go just a little farther. In the last stretch, and last jump over a fallen tree, Will’s ankle caught on a branch and brought him tumbling down to the ground. The growling behind him grew louder as he tumbled through the fallen leaves and into rocks and sticker bushes. Mike didn’t remember leaving the safety of the porch, but he remembered pulling Will out of the foliage and dragging him the rest of the way to the house. He remembered crying too. That’s all.

“I’m fine, Sara. Don’t worry, I’ve got Mr. Byers here to help.” Will looked over his shoulder and winked at Mike before leaning back to the bike with his dipped paintbrush.

“Is he your helper?” Sara looked at Mike with such innocence and kindness. There was an instinct to feel guilty– like it would all go away if she only knew the truth. But Mike knew it was a false sense of guilt. Their marriage was the best thing in Mike’s life. He wasn’t ashamed.

“No, actually Michael’s my husband.” Will said, his hand moving steadily and making a clean stripe on Sara’s bike. “I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Oh. T-That’s cool, I guess.” Sara said, obviously taken aback. She didn’t seem bothered, just wildly surprised. She’d lived next door to them for most of her life, and apparently it never occurred to her that young, happy men could be married too.

Part of Mike was pleased to be a surprise. Typically, that meant the person had never met a gay couple before. Mike was glad he and Will could be her starting example.

“I’m going to leave you two to your work, alright?” Mike said, wiping his hands on his jeans again. Sara had stopped staring at him, but had now moved on to Will. Mike was sure she had more questions. “I want to clean up the garage, Plum. I’ll be back.”

—

Mike sat down on the garage floor and started separating the loose pages and clipped manuscripts. Mike avoided reading any of his very old writing– it was still embarrassing to think he was published in his college lit mag forever with such sappy love poetry. At least he still had the work’s muse living with him. Helped him improve and write the same message again, far better: later, said embarrassing poem became Mike’s wedding vows so it wasn’t all a loss.

Before Mike could reach the bottom of his stack, the garage side door opened. Will placed his paint and brushes down on the floor and slowly approached Mike’s sporadic piles.

“What are you looking for?” He stood tall but squinted to try and read the pages below him.

“Something I wrote in college. I remembered it the other morning– remember when I stumbled out of bed for my notebook?” Mike laughed, turning to look up at his husband.

“When you tripped three times just getting across the room? Yeah. I remember. I thought we were being robbed. But it was just you having a stroke of genius?”

“If you want to call it that.” Mike held his arms out to the scattered organization with a sigh. “Did you fix Sandra up?”

“Sara’s already on her way home! Gave her a stripe and even wrote ‘Sandra’ on the side. Gave her flowers and swords, the whole nine.”

“Swords?”

“She told me she’s learning about Joan of Arc.” Will shrugged. “I thought it was pretty cool.”

“It is. And so are you.” Mike placed his unsorted pages down, frankly not needing their words anymore. His world was right there. Being absolutely adorable. Will placed his hand over Mike’s face and shoved him playfully.

“Help me inside, Mr. Byers?”

“That bad?” Mike’s tone changed in a snap, pushing off the ground and getting to his feet. “We should change out those stairs, Plum.”

“No, it’s just the barometric pressure. They’re fine.” Will took Mike’s hand. “A convenient excuse to keep you around though, have to say.”

“Don’t make me carry you again.” Mike jokingly went to sweep Will off his feet. Will yelped and jumped back with a giggle. “I’ll only hit your head on the doorway a little bit this time.”

“I love having to tell the story of ‘no the bruise I got on my wedding night was because my husband walked me into the doorway’. My mom thought we were idiots.” Will sighed, following Mike out of the garage.

“Babe, we are idiots.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t need to know that this late in the relationship. We’ve kept it a secret for quite a while, I like to think.”

"Will, for every monster we fought on a school night is another ten reasons we’re both idiots.” Mike reasoned. He stepped up onto the stairs first, letting Will pull up on his tensed arm for leverage. “You taught me that.”

Will grunted quietly as he pushed himself up the rest of the stairs. At the landing, he broke into a smile. “I know. I’m just testing you, Michael. Just testing you.”

“Shut up and get inside.” Mike laughed, swinging the front door open. “Make sure all the windows are closed before it rains, I’m going to make you some tea.”

“What? That’s not how that works.” Will laughed, shaking his head as he kicked off his shoes. “You know we didn’t open any windows last night.”

“Welp, looks like you have to sit down and let me make you tea.” Mike said, dramatically sighing and starting off toward the kitchen. Will shuffled after him, trying not to slip in his socks.

Their house was about the size of Will’s childhood home, maybe a bit smaller. They didn’t need much room, if Mike was being honest. All their childhood they’d practically lived right on top of each other, being able to do so as adults was a bonus. Between the foyer and the kitchen was only a small alcove with their round wooden dining table. It only held the two of them; they rarely had guests anyway.

Every time he passed by the table, he remembered that first month, sitting in the morning silence and staring out the window at the long stretches of trees. Will was sipping tea, careful not to slurp too loudly and get under Mike’s skin at seven in the morning. Under the table, Mike could hear Will gently rubbing his feet together: a habit of comfort Mike had learned to observe. Mike had been drinking coffee and eating a bagel, definitely getting crumbs everywhere. He’d placed his breakfast down and cleared his throat– twice– and placed his hand on Will’s. Will still made him nervous sometimes.

“Hey, Will?” Mike had said, careful to break his peaceful look.

“Yeah, Mike?”

The words were so easy to say. Mike couldn’t remember a time when they seemed so far off: “Will you marry me?”

“So, what stroke of genius did you have?” Will asked, easing himself down into his chair. Mike placed the kettle onto the stove with a furrowed look. “You said your old writing– a new idea came to you?”

“Oh! Right. I got confused when you said genius.” Mike teased.

He got out Will’s favorite mug and placed it on the counter beside his teabag. Originally, it had just been a random floral mug his mother had found at a thrift store, just trying to get enough mugs for when the entire Party– and monster hunting congregation– found its way into the Byers house. Will had been drinking out of it when they solved their last mystery; was steeping tea when he got accepted to college, and nearly spilled it diving for the phone to call Mike; and brought it to his dorm for his four years at MICA. And, obviously, it was the one he was drinking out of when Mike proposed– if you want to call it that. Mike considered it a waking up of sorts, of finally getting his shit together and asking Will the most obvious question.

“So, what’s the idea?” Will asked, placing his feet up on Mike’s seat. “You know I like hearing about them.”

“Yeah, I know. But this one’s boring.”

“Your ideas are never boring, Michael. I love them.” Will said sternly, although his smile ruined the effect. “I’m listening.”

The kettle began to whistle and Mike tried to use it as a distraction, but he could feel Will’s eyes patiently watching him.

“It’s an old something I wanted to fix up… it’s from college, but it’s about back from before we started high school.” He waved it off before pouring their water.

“You say that like it’s not any good.”

"It’s just about… this dream I had once.” Mike sighed. He rolled his eyes at his own preface. “It was when– okay, so do you remember that time in Starcourt when I was hit? I fell down and smacked my head really hard?”

“Do I rememb– yes, of course I do.” Will exclaimed. “I thought you’d shattered your skull right open in the goddamn food court while we were running for our lives.”

“Well, it’s just about that. The dream I had while I was completely knocked out for five minutes.” Mike tried to nudge it away with another shrug. He returned to the table quickly, still trying to maintain a feeling of nonchalance. Will took the mug slowly, narrowing his eyes but still thanking him. “What!”

“You’ve never told me about this before.” Will said, moving his feet up off Mike’s seat so he could slide under them. Mike always let Will rest his feet on his lap. “How is this new to me?”

Mike set his jaw, trying to defeat his growing smile. “It’s supposed to be a surprise! Don’t ask too many questions. It’s your anniversary gift, so don’t go poking around.”

“Michael, you don’t have to do anything for me!” Will reached over and grabbed both of Mike’s hands. “I don’t want you to.”

“You married me and let me buy you a house.” Mike said, like it was the simplest rebuttal. “I have to thank you every year. Afraid my luck will run out.”

“How many times have I told you,” Will said, pulling Mike’s hand up to his lips, kissing it quickly. “It’s not luck. That’s not why we’re together. It’s–”

“I know, I know.” Mike sighed, smiling. “It’s fate.”

Will grinned, his face lighting up; it was what Will had said in his own wedding vows. The moment Mike heard it, unprepared and already wonderfully weak at the altar, he started weeping. Before then, he’d never thought that everything in his life had all been for something. All of his past suffering could stop hurting, even for a moment. It wasn’t going to come back and haunt him; he had finally reached his own, permanent happiness. The one his family never said he’d have, the one he started to believe he was never meant to experience– only write about, growing envious of his characters.

But Mike’s happiness was there, sitting across from him and all around. It was 102 Peach Street, house of Mr. Michael Byers and Mr. William Wheeler. It was waking up to the same faint sound of even and slow breathing– the reassurance he’d still get to live his best dream another day. On the hardest days, it was the paint-smudged young man that would come through the front door, smiling from ear to ear, already somehow knowing that Mike needed extra love– and an overly dramatic mwah of a hello kiss. On Mike’s best days, it was just Will.

No matter what, it was always Will. Mike had found his happiness, run headstrong into his fated future, and nothing was ever going to take it away.

Mike blinked, tears suddenly welling in his eyes, and thought of his dream. The floating figure was one he had always assumed as an angel– a sign that death was closer than it had ever been– and it was an angel. It was just that this one looked a whole lot like his childhood friend. Looked like his husband.

“Why are you crying?” Will moved his legs off Mike’s lap in order to pull his chair in closer. Will cradled Mike’s face, his thumbs moving over his cheeks slowly, waiting for a tear to fall. “Michael, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Mike laughed, sniffling. “I just forget how kind fate was to me… I got the perfect house, the most beautiful husband with the most extraordinary heart, neighbors that bake us pies for fuck’s sake… Did you ever think we’d get all this?”

“No.” Will said, shaking his head. “But I always knew I’d have you. And that was always enough.”

Mike hiccuped a short but loud sob, laughing wetly. “God, you’re making me cry more. I love you. So so much.”

Will didn’t speak– he often never did when Mike was in his moods of disbelief. He just pushed Mike’s hair back from his eyes, looking at him with a sense of wonder, before leaning forward to kiss him.

When Mike closed his eyes, he knew the vision was no longer a memory and it definitely wasn’t a dream. No, it was a feeling. It was this feeling. One of comfort and relief, of letting Mike’s whole body relax into the warm touch of another person– another man. Laying on the floor of the mall, in danger and unconscious, Mike had been given a glimpse into his own future– and it was gloriously simple, safe, and sweet. It was Will.

ao3

[himawari-haebalagi]

If you don’t want to see me rant and vent my frustrations just scroll past this.

I am so tired. I’m the black sheep, my family doesn’t respect me, they’re hypocritical and every time I try to meet them half way they don’t put in their share. People are gonna say I’m just being a teenager and that’s fine, but when I’m the one genuinely trying to compromise and talk things out like an adult only to be yelled at and blamed in return, it’s kind of hard to think I’m overreacting.

My mental state is fucked up. I have ADHD, anxiety, aspergers syndrome, OCD, depression, bipolar disorder, and those are just what’s been diagnosed. I’ve been on more prescribed medications than I can count, and my mom keeps telling me generic shit that doesn’t help and trying to convince me that if I try I can be normal.

They’re hypocritical. I only ever try and act in ways that I can fit in and yeah I’ve been a brat before and I’ve done stuff that people don’t want to deal with but I’m maturing and trying to have a genuine relationship with my family only to have everyone poke fun at me.

I’ve been homeschooled since sixth grade. I’ll be graduating high school in a couple years I want nothing more than to go back to public school to experience things and get social skills that I just don’t have right now. I’ve essentially been in quarantine for the past five years save for church, weekends with my friends, appointments, and volunteering at the library. I brought it up to my mom and- in her typical cold fashion- she seemed very disapproving and doubtful. She wasn’t supportive or encouraging.

I’m used to that. My mom’s always been that way. Very cold, stiff, almost like a mannequin trying to appear as this picture perfect person. She’s a Karen. I love my mom, I do, but she’s never been what I’m sure most would label as a good one. We’re Catholic. I’d consider myself and many other Catholics to be very accepting, open minded people, but my mom is one of those people that drive people away from Christianity.

I’m perfectly fine with lgbt+, people of other culture, race, and ethnicity, those who have different beliefs than me, etc. I’m not straight myself, so I’d be more hypocritical than my mother to be homophobic. My mom tries to be this picture perfect Christian by being overly strict, pushing her beliefs onto everyone and their mother, is judgemental, scolds me when I express my opinion in places I should be considered, and yells at me for talking about anything remotely lgbtq in front of babies. etc etc. I’m a Christian, my faith is important to me, but I see why people want nothing to do with us when my mom acts the way she does.

I get along great with my stepdad. However, today he’s been in a very grouchy mood it seems. We have actual conversations and he treats me like an intelligent human being, which I appreciate. We were supposed to go back to Kentucky (my home town) to help with a baby. Not sure how good of an idea it is with everything that’s going on, but I’ve learned over time that anytime I try to speak up I just risk getting my ass whooped and my ear drums busted. I was going to stay with my dad, but a couple days ago he called and said Tuk (his girlfriend who is the sweetest person on earth) wasn’t so comfortable with it at the time because of this covid19 thing, which is completely understandable and valid. A couple hours ago, maybe, my stepdad was ranting about how he was happy I was going with them but how stupid of an excuse my dad made. That the reason he provided wasn’t sensible at all. He asked me how many times i spend the night at my dad’s. Not that often, but I don’t normally have a reason to and he’s often very busy with work. I hang out with him most saturdays with the exception of this pandemic and bond. He said that it’s because my dad doesn’t want me there. That stung. A lot. I know it’s not true and I figured he must be in a really bad mood because he wasn’t really all that reasonable like normal, but it still hurt to hear someone I’m close with say with so much conviction that my dad doesn’t want me.

I’ve been studying super hard in school and even working on weekends just to please my mom, but it’s not enough to her. On top of that, I’m an emotional doormat. Whenever my friends need an outlet of any sort be it for ranting, venting, advice, and/or help it’s me that tend to be their go-to. I’m stressed. I love my friends and it’s just the kind of person I am to try and carry the weight of the world on my shoulders but I always do it until I snap and I can’t being myself to tell them or say no in fear of not being wanted.

I’m just being swallowed whole. The people that I love are all indeed human and have their flaws, it just seems that I’m the outlet that has these flaws lashed upon. I feel like my only source of comfort is reading, YouTube, fictional characters, and my dog. I’m tired all the time. I eat a meal a day and snack the rest of the time and barely have the energy to even read. I’ve just been doing my homework, attempting to read, answering to my friends’ beck and call, dealing with my family, and sleeping more than I’m happy with. I’m just emotionally and physically exhausted and the chances of anyone reading all of this are slim and the chances of those people actually caring are slimmer. I don’t want pity or anything, I just needed an outlet to vent because my life really sucks right now and I feel so selfish in saying that because there’s so many others that would kill to have my life and privileges but I’m just so exhausted. One of the only ways I can explain how I feel is that I want to go home. I know it doesn’t make any sense because it’s not like I’m away from my house or family or anything but I just want to go home. I feel exposed and suffocated and empty and stressed all at the same time.