#log off and go to bed like an emotionally healthy person. i just thought this meme was hysterical

[crimeronan]

i cannot BELIEVE you guys are fandom infighting over darius discourse right now. 

[obscure-sentimentalist]

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter VIII

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning:  Description of a sexual assault - Trigger Warning

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

A/N:  So, I feel the need to disclaim whenever there is something graphic happening in a chapter.  As always, I have tried to make it as tasteful as possible.  I ask that you bear with me and trust me.  As always thanks for reading and I’m truly shocked and amazed at the positive reception this story has gotten. You guys rock!

Chapter VIII

Since Ivar still had a few things to take care of, he told me I could get started without him.  He knows there a lot of things I want to do and he’ll be back in plenty of time to enjoy some of the shenanigans I have planned.

He said he wanted me to be the first to christen the cabin. So, I made sure I went all out for this one.  I mean, it is a special occasion, after all.

"Fuck..." I manage to pant out as a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of my lips. That was amazing. She was amazing.  

She's quiet now, sitting on the corner of the mattress with her knees drawn up to her chin. She’s trying to hide her face from me, as if not looking at me will convince her that what we just shared didn’t happen. But she knows the truth. I know she can still feel me inside of her. If she needs more convincing, she can just look at her blood on the mattress to remind her.

It's hard to read her body language because of how dimly lit it is in here. The few lanterns make it hard to see her and are creating weird shadows on her face. Seriously, I wouldn’t even be able to tell that she’s crying if it wasn’t for the light glistened off a fat tear rolling down her cheek and that damn stuttered breathing.

If I can remember, I'm going to rig some overhead lighting in this room tomorrow.  

“You thirsty?” My throat is dry as hell.  I can only imagine that hers is, too. My chest is still heaving from the amount of energy I used to show her how much I wanted her. I know I down an entire bottle of water myself, but I’m a gracious enough host to take care of my guest first, “You want a drink?”

Standing up slowly, I pull my pants up and let them hang unbuttoned on my waist. I'm not nearly finished, but we need to pace ourselves for the long night ahead and take a breather. Carefully counting out the steps from the mattress to the chair, I pull out my smokes and a bottle of water.

I make sure to light another lantern and a few more candles while I’m near the window.  We just need a little more light in here.  Straining my eyes to see every inch of her is giving me a fucking headache. She looks too beautiful to be sitting there in the dark, with a thick collar around her neck, locked ball gag in her mouth...leash chaining her to the stone fireplace.  This is fucking art. She needs to be on display.  

Being around Ivar so much, I think he's starting to rub off on me. I’m really starting to appreciate why the setting is so important to him.  

I mean, even the mattress looks good under her.  I went out and bought new sheets just for tonight’s soiree; they match the cabin beautifully.  And for that pièce de résistance, I chopped some logs and put them in the fireplace. It smells fucking amazing in here if I do say so myself.  I thought our guests would appreciate it.  

Come on, It’s a nice fucking touch.  It makes this place looks like a 4-fucking-star hotel!  I should have made a fire, though.  That would have made it perfect. Oh well, live, and learn.  

There’s always next time.  

I have to admit, the leash and collar is such a better idea than tying her up. At least this way, she’s able to move around and fully participate in the festivities. Ivar is a fucking genius with this one!  

When we were talking about our wish lists, I didn’t think that he’d really take mine into consideration and try to make it happen.  I just mentioned to him that when they're bound, sometimes, it doesn't feel like a challenge. I mean, sure, their legs are still free, but when their hands are tied together, there's no real struggle. They can’t scratch, or punch and where is the fun in that?  I didn’t know he would find an easy fix for me.

But this?  This was fucking perfect. Ivar’s little makeshift restraint allows me to feel everything that I need.  I felt her nails dig into me when she clawed my back and shoulders and I'm sure there are bruises all over from where she punched me. She fucking loved it!

She especially loved when I pinned her arms to the mattress. I could tell by the way she used her thigh muscles to draw me in deeper. I love it when they do that. The tightness of their thighs around my waist and the way they kick gets me so fucking hard -

I can’t think about that right now.  We’re supposed to be taking a short break.

I grab a candle from the windowsill and carry it over to our place on the mattress. I notice how she flinches away from me, but that doesn't stop me from sitting next to her. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I twist the cap on the water bottle and take a healthy swig. God that feels good. "You want some?"

I admire the look she gives me. I love that she’s so feisty!  I can’t stand the whiny ones. The ones that just cry and beg, that's more Ivar's deal. I like the ones that make me break them. They make me feel immortal. Judging from the hatred in her eyes, I'm going to be a fucking god by the end of the night.

I hold the bottle in front of her face and take it away when she turns her head. I'm not going to force her to drink. "Fine. More for me." I make a show out of how refreshing the cool water is as it runs down my throat. I know she wants some because her eyes are now solely fixed on the bottle in my hand. "You can have some if you want."

She reaches her hand out and snatches the water from me. I like when a woman can make me laugh and her little act of defiance is so funny to me. "I'm gonna unlock your ball gag, so you can drink.  You better not scream. I ain't fucking around, neither.  You understand me?" I nod back at her to seal our agreement.

I hate that I had to use the ball gag on her.  It’s always more enjoyable when they can talk to me, or curse me, or even tell me to stop. But of course, when I tried to get close to her, she started making a lot of fucking noise.  I honestly didn't take her for a screamer.

I mean, when we were in the car, I knew that she liked the sound of her own voice because she wouldn't shut the fuck up.  While I was in the backseat, I actually had to strangle her with fishing wire to get her to be quiet.  It wasn’t until I had pulled the wire tight enough to around her neck to draw blood and pin her head flush to her seat that she actually stopped talking.

Ivar had that look on his face like he was impressed at how I brought her to heel.  Really, I was just trying to be the lesser of two evils.  It was either what I did or have Ivar damage her face by slamming her head against the dashboard. I didn’t want him hurting a face like that; not until I had her.  

I didn’t mind a little bit of blood on her neck, but I didn’t want to destroy such a pretty face. I even asked Ivar if he’d be okay if I went first.  I don’t give a fuck what he does to her face when I’m done with her.  She won’t be my responsibility anymore, then.  Of course, he was totally cool with it.  He actually seemed amused.  

Honestly, I could only listen to her brag to Ivar about all the things she wanted to do to us for so long. She had me so fucking excited it took everything I had not to fuck her in that alley where we parked.  I hadn't been that excited to see if someone could actually live up to their own hype in ages. And boy, she did not disappoint, either.

With confidence like hers though, I didn’t expect her to scream like a stuck pig.

"Don't drink too fast. You're gonna get a cramp." She gulps the water down to the point that it's spilling down her chin. I think it's calmed her down a little because she’s now looking at me. "Smoke?" She rolls her eyes right before the remaining water in the bottle lands on my face. All I can do is lick what drips on my lips and smile at her.

"You think you're tough? Did that make you feel like a real fucking man?" Her voice doesn't match her face. She's so beautiful, but the ugliest words come out of her mouth. I don't like it when women curse. It's not feminine. "Well, you’re not, you little dick motherfucker...”

Packing my cigarettes against the palm of my hand, I narrow my eyes at her. "Don't curse. It's not lady-like."

"Fuck you."

I light my cigarette and move around to sit directly in front of her. If she really is as angry as she's pretending to be, she wouldn't be crying. "Why did you think I’m trying to hurt you? I don't wanna hurt you." Ivar is going to hurt her but telling her that might fuck up round two.

"What the fuck do you think you just did? You kidnapped me and tied me up. You raped me…"

“Nobody kidnapped you.”  I don't like liars and she's fucking lying to my face. "You couldn't wait to jump your ass in the car. And you're not tied up.  You're chained to a wall; there's a difference.”  I feel my top lip start to twitch as I talk and my voice starts to rise, “And I most certainly didn't rape you. You wanted it." I was there when she talked about how she liked to be spanked and how she wanted to suck Ivar into oblivion. She wanted us, but now suddenly, I raped her? I can feel my muscles start to clinch in my arms.

"But you made a messed up,” she laughs, “I heard your name, Hvitserk. I’m going to get out of here and I’m going to tell everything.  They’re going to know it was you that did this to me.” The tears make a crooked pattern on her beige face while her eyes continue to redden.  The colors together make such a beautiful contrast. “My father's a cop. He's going hunt you down and rip your dick off before he buries you under the jail."

That seems a little severe. I don't understand selective amnesia. Didn't she ask to come with us? No one forced her into anything. "Why are you so pissed with me? Are you always so hateful?"  I stand up.  Sitting this next to her is making me uncomfortable.  

"I'm not hateful. I just hate you." She tries to lunge at me, but I reach behind her and grab the slack of the leash in time to pull her back. The sudden jerking makes her grab for her throat and cough to try to get the air back into her lungs. "When I get out of here, you're a dead man." Her voice is hoarse as she tries to get her vocal cords to work again.

That was her fault. She had no right to try to attack me. I need her to understand that.  As I wrap the excess leash around my hand, I try to find the right words to say to her. "You won't make it out of here." I never want anyone to be misled in what's going to happen. She has her heart set on leaving and I don't want her to be disappointed when that doesn't come to pass. "He won't let you. When he comes back here, he's going to do everything he wants to you.  Then he’s going to kill you because he wants to or he's going make you beg him to put you out of your misery."

She wraps her arms tighter around herself and starts to rock in place like a child. I can almost see the thoughts churning in her head. I can definitely smell her fear. "What the fuck are you talking about? You're the fucking pig rapist…you sorry sack of shit!  Are you trying to scare me?  This is about power and fear, right? Well, I ain’t afraid of you! You can do whatever you want to me but you don't scare me. You're a pussy! You're a piece of shit…"

It's rare that I lose my temper but she’s pissing me off. "You will only speak when I give you permission." My head is starting to hurt and my neck is stiffening up. I can’t stop clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw aches. "Do you want me to scare you? Because I can."  

"Eat shit, you crazy motherfucker!"

This would go a lot smoother if she would just stop with the name-calling and do what I say.

It only takes a second before I land a punch to her face so hard that her head snaps back.  I can tell by how wide her eyes are that she didn’t think I’d hit her.  She needed reminding that I am in control, but that fucking screaming, "I told you to shut the fuck up!”  

"Fuck you." She whines pinching her nose. I don't think she gets it yet, but she will. Ivar's gonna love her. He loves the ones that need extra lessons.

My hand fists her hair and I yank back as hard as I can. The clumps of her jet black hair fall to the mattress as I continue to pull it out by the root. She should realize by now that I would stop ripping her hair out if she would just quit this screaming bullshit. "You spineless freak! Fuck you!"

She’s laughing at me. Is this bitch crazy?  It’s my fucking luck I picked up a fucking lunatic to party with.  “I swear to Christ, if you say one more goddamn thing, I will kick your fucking teeth out!”

"You’re gonna regret this, Hvitserk.” The mocking way she whines my name makes me want to vomit.  It’s like she’s making fun of me.  Like she’s laughing at me. “I’m not a piece of meat. I'm a person.  I have feelings.  I'm a somebody!  I'm Yidu Mora, the person who’s going to put your ass in jail for life.  Remember that, Hvitserk!! Yidu Mora...”

I never let go of her hair as I bend awkwardly to allow the steel toe of my Doc Martin boot to connect with her mouth. Blood shoots out in every direction as do her teeth, but it isn't enough. One more kick and now my muscles start to relax. But it's already too late. I can feel it all over; the anger, the hurtful words from her… this bitch is going get it.

I don't understand. I thought we hit the jackpot with her. I just knew she was perfect from the moment I laid eyes on her. Standing outside of the concert, she was perfect with her beautiful wheat-colored skin and dark shining brown eyes - I just felt this vibe from her while she was standing in line.  Hell, she was even dressed for the part with her impossibly short skirt, barely-there top, and thigh-high stiletto boots. She looked incredible and she knew it. It was obvious in every movement she made, every bat of her eyelashes, and even in that sexy smile, she gave to Ivar.

Ivar was on point tonight, too. Dressed in distressed black jeans, white shirt, and a black leather trench coat, he looked like he had just stepped off stage. It wouldn't surprise me if that's why she was flirting with him. She probably thought that he was in the band. It was no time at all before we had her walking to the car and I was asking Ivar if we could take her without hurting her face.

We had a beautiful guest in our new place and she promised to show us a good time. It was supposed to be perfect.  Why is it going all wrong now?  Why is she acting like this? She's ruining everything! "I'm weak? I'll show you how fucking weak I am!" I pull my pants down and force my cock into her mouth. The blood pouring from this tramps mouth is just added lubrication and though her jagged teeth scrape, the gums, where I knocked the teeth out completely, soothe the abrasions. "Take that shit, bitch."

I can't stop myself. I hold the leash upward, with one hand so the collar digs into her neck, and keep my other on the back of her head so she can't move. I know I'm strangling her, but right now I don't give a fuck. "I'm not fucking weak!  Fuck you!" Flashes of light dance around my eyes and I push myself deeper into her throat. I can feel the vomit on the tip of dick and it pisses me off more. I kick her in the stomach to make her stop.

Why couldn't she just do what I said? Where the fuck is Ivar?

I'm dizzy and everything looks hazy.  I can hardly make out her or the room due to the tears filling my eyes.  All I know is I don't feel her fists beating against my thighs anymore. I do manage to make out the awkward angle that she’s sitting with her arms resting at her sides. I don’t care.  I can’t stop.  I continue to push myself further into her mouth until her lips are flush against my pelvis.

"Hvitserk?" I hear my name and look at Ivar in confusion. My head hurts so bad and I can feel tears dripping off my chin.

"Ivar?!" I let go of her head and reach out for him.  

This isn't my room. The blinds are open too far, and the walls are too light to be my room. The scent of the sheets is familiar though. I have no idea why I'm in his bed, but I don't question his strong arms around me. I look into his vibrant blue orbs through my eyes that are barely opened in slits. There's so much compassion and love there. I instantly feel safe.

He’s growing a mustache.  It’s a sad little thing, but it doesn’t stop me from reaching up and tracing the fine hairs over his lip with my finger. When did that get there?  Neither one of us could grow facial hair for shit.

"Welcome back, my love. This is the longest you've been gone." Ivar's electric smile greets me and his lips brush my cheek before he rolls me over to lay rest my head on his chest.  His fingers take special care to run through my hair and the gentle petting is enough to make me feel sleepy again. "You had me worried."

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[a-to-a-and-d-to-d]

The First Post, Unaffiliated

This is not my first rodeo on Tumblr, but I have not logged into my original account in some time.  I think a large part of that decision was due to a bitter taste in my mouth regarding friendships made on this site that I would eventually need to detach from, and sometimes that’s a difficult thing to not only recognize the need for, but to accept and actually do.

I am also less into fandom than I had been.  I realize that my indulgence into fandom was to find acceptance and love, but much like seeking religion or social groups for this purpose, it was bound to eventually backfire and discontinue that comfort that it brought me.  

I will probably go about discuss religion and like things in this place eventually, as I often ponder religion and spirituality, but do not take my pointing out of anything I find interesting as a means to try to disprove or prove anything.  

I thought perhaps today, though, I will talk about something that is on my mind a lot lately, and has recently been brought to the surface by a friend’s situation

One of the struggles I continue to deal with, even as I ever so slowly trudge towards that which we call mid-life,  is the child’s relationship with the parent(s), and how those that are/were damaging, we some how feel necessary to reconcile in some ways, for our sanity and for the parental love that we crave because we did not receive an adequate amount of any sort of parental relationship in our youth.

I personally did not develop what I would consider a relationship with my parents until I hit my 20s.  I spent a childhood being lonely despite being surrounded by siblings and having parents who remained married.  My teen years resulted in a tumultuous relationship with my mother and her scramble to convince teachers and other parents that she did not “screw up” as a parent.  I dealt with a significant amount of troubles in my adolescence and her reaction to that time was to become angry.  Angry that I had issues, angry that it was clear I had issues, and that I wasn’t living my teens as though everything had been and was perfectly fine.

My older siblings also had difficult times during their teen years, resulting from abusive and neglectful parenting and allowing their children - mostly due to a lack of interest in them - to stay in unsafe private schools and ruminate on those difficulties by themselves.  Somehow, I had been expected to be emotionally capable at 10/11 years old to deal with constant harassment.  I found release in music and story telling, and sometimes I still very much cling to these things.

What is currently difficult is trying to reconcile parents you had to who they are.  Can one forgive an entire childhood of neglect and mistreatment because their parents are better equipped to deal with the issues of completely independent children, or is the fact that they are no longer sole providers for any children making it easier for them to have a relationship with them?  The real question at the bottom of this barrel is, is are we - who decided we can tolerate a relationship with these people as adults - continuing to trigger ourselves?  I have had more than one night, after talking to my mother, laid in bed and unable to sleep, thinking about some violent act committed against me when I was so small, and wonder... how could she look at a child of 5 and think that was reasonable in any way?  It upsets me when I recall those my moments; of course they’re upsetting.  But the biggest part of the upset is the fact that I have the memories of this violence but a parent now that I feel more connected to and invested in their wellbeing.

When I was about 18, I was certain I wouldn’t cry at the funerals of either parent, but now I’m concerned about their well being as they become elderly.  In some ways, it feels like I’ve betrayed my child self by maintaining a relationship with them even though I had promised myself as a child I would cut them off for good.  This is a promise I’ve made a few times as an adult as well.

I think part of the reason I continue to go back is that we all yearn for a family of some sort.  And for a while, I thought I had found a “found family,” but after so many years, it was made clear that it really wasn’t that way.  Being rejected by found family hurts so much more than an entire life of biological familial rejection.  I’m sure this is due to the fact that I had been subjected to violence and neglect once I became a toddler.  Once actual parenting was required.

My childhood resulted in an odd way of feeling emotions and attachments.  I may talk about this in depth at a different time.

What’s been really bothering me is a friend and their particular relationship with their parents.  I’ve spent the better part of a year hearing about how their parents, one in particular, is vile and just the worst.  They plan to call authorities.  They let pets suffer & die (though my friend also noticed the pets in question and lives there so there is some question as to why they didn’t step up and do something about it).  They claim years of abuse and current child abuse in the home.  A lifetime of making them feel worthless and taking jabs, blaming them for a lack of confidence and depression.  They spent a lot of time discussing their anti-mask feelings and has made comments about them dying so the other parents could be free.  The other parent isn’t great, either, but the major complaint is that they’re racist as all get out.. but they excuse it away by saying “but they’re my parent.”

The bad-mouthed parent, the vile and evil one, the anti-mask one (and the racist one as well,, but less about them), the one said friend couldn’t wait to leave and never speak to them again, contracted our pandemic friend.  And the vile parent is suffering quite a bit more at its hands.  Suddenly, we love this person.

I had a similar experience several years ago, as well, of supposedly incredibly abusive and terrible parents that continue to abuse and mistreat into their adulthood, suddenly becoming a weird sort of saint in their eyes when illness/death is at the door.  its not that I believe people who have toxic parents do not love them, or should not worry or mourn if tragedy strikes them.  What I am saying is that, if you imagine your parent getting sick and suffering, and that makes your heart hurt and you feel a surge of love, then perhaps you shouldn’t have spent several years convincing everyone around you that they’re the worst person.  It makes me question what is more true.  I do think that we all unconsciously exaggerate situations that effect us, such as relaying a story of toxicity, but if you do it to a point where I think you’re just waiting for the opportunity to leave their life forever, I might wonder why you’re so bent out of shape.

Is it mourning of the relationship we wish we had?  As long as that parent is alive and relatively well, we may be thinking that there’s still a chance to have that relationship.  We hope that maybe the parents will suddenly give a shit about us and will love us in the way we needed when we were children.  And its difficult to admit to yourself that this isn’t going to happen.  Even if your parental relationships are fulfilling and loving now, they are not what you needed when you were a child and you cannot get them now, because you are not a child.

You can always experiment out in the big bad world with different avenues.  As I equate violence to the touch of a “loved one,”  I’ve fetishized some of that violence.  Just as, I’m sure, people had fetishized their own experiences and needs that had been neglected.

However we cope, we need to find healthy and viable ways to do so.  And while I do question the legitimacy of the abusive parent when a friend’s reaction to their parent takes a complete turn when something bad happens, I also understand that relationships with abusive people are weird and difficult, especially when they’re our families.

[pomp-adourable]

I can’t post this on facebook.  I don’t want to share my story there. But I want to share it here. This is the story of a long distance ex-girlfriend of mine, who emotionally manipulated me into doing sexual things I didn’t actually want to do.  I don’t know if that... “counts”, as part of this whole #MeToo initiative... But it did make me want to finally share the whole of this story. Details are under the cut.

When I was in college I had a long distance girlfriend named Stephanie. She was a transwoman, and that didn’t matter to me at all. At the time I considered myself Pansexual, and I just liked her for who she was. We would webcam on skype almost every day, watch netflix and anime together, and talk for hours.

One day though, she tried to initiate some sexual situation over webcam.  When we connected on skype, she was topless, rubbing her breasts occasionally and I... was admittedly oblivious to what she was trying to do. I thought we were just going to watch anime together. I felt awkward, and unsure.  I think at the time i just tried to play coy; I was a virgin, totally inexperienced, and had never been in this sort of situation before. I complimented her, to let her know I thought she was beautiful, but that’s as far as I went with it.  I didn’t try to initiate any further. She seemed frustrated, and I specifically remember her saying “That’s not the reaction I was expecting from you.”

I think it was that same night, after we had logged off to go to bed, that she texted me after I had already left and said she needed to talk about something important. So I got back on skype, and we got on webcam, and she told me that “In a normal relationship, couples would be having sex by now.” (We had been dating maybe a month or two.) She said that she “had needs” and more or less convinced me that I was obligated to do something about it, because we were in a relationship. It’s what people in relationships do.  That was the first time I took my clothes off in front of (a webcam for) someone.  I only stripped down to my bra and panties, but I know she took screen shots of me and saved them.

The next time it happened, we connected on webcam, and she was completely naked. I’ll remind you that she was pre-op MTF, so she was stroking her penis, and was actually bragging about how big it was.  She told me I should get naked too. I said I didn’t really want to masturbate on camera with her. She told me I didn’t have to, but that I should get naked any way, and she could masturbate to it. So I fuckin did. Of course. I do remember refusing to show her the “pink of my pussy”, which she had been very disappointed about. I know she took screen shots, again. I didn’t stay to watch her masturbate. I don’t know what excuse I made to leave, but I know i didn’t stay and watch her.

After that, we met in person, but I was very firm with her that I didn’t want to have sex. Which she said was fine.  The most we did was make out in the back-seat of my best friends car on our drive home from Disney world. It was the most awkward situation of my life. My best friend and her best friend made awkward small talk while we sucked face in the back. I remember it was fucking disgusting, because I could taste her bad breath, and it actually made me gag. I remember she reached under my shirt and pulled my breasts out of my bra and pinched my nipples, but when I tried to do the same to her she made me stop. I refused to let her put her hand down my pants so she settled on grabbing my ass over the underwear.

I wasn’t FORCED to do any of this. I reluctantly consented to it. I pretended to be excited about it. But I did it all because I thought I loved her, and was afraid she would leave me if I didn’t do it. Or I was afraid she would do something to harm herself if I didn’t validate her. She had convinced me that these were things normal couples did. I had never been in a normal, healthy relationship before, so I was naive, inexperienced, and too worried about hurting HER feelings to refuse her.  She was so sensitive.  Being transgender, she was constantly seeking validation from me, that I saw her as a woman. That I thought she was beautiful. And I was so afraid that if I refused to do these sexual things for her, that she would think that I didn’t REALLY believe she was a beautiful woman. I did see her as a beautiful woman... but really, I just wasn’t attracted to her. (That’s a whole other can of worms. That situation lead me to believe that I was actually asexual, BECAUSE I hadn’t attracted to her. “How could I not be sexually attracted to the person I love?” I thought maybe I was an asexual panromantic. But now, I’ve since decided that sexuality is confusing and fluid, so I just use the term Queer.)

Or maybe I wasn’t attracted to her because of the way she urged me into doing these things that I didn’t actually want to do, that I only did because I thought I was supposed to, that it was normal, and this was a thing normal couples did... That I was supposed to give my partner sexual gratification even if I didn’t really want to.

Ultimately, she broke up with me. She said she couldn’t take the distance, and I said it was okay, that I understood.  Inside, I was so, so fucking overjoyed that she’d broken up with me.  I always told people “It was a mutual decision, because of the distance.”  In reality, I’d been hoping she would break up with me for weeks.  Because I was too weak to break up with her. 

I’ve grown a lot as a person since all of this happened. At the time, I didn’t realize that I was being emotionally manipulated.  Now, years later, I can stand back and see the situation for what it really was.  It was abusive.  Maybe not on purpose.  Maybe she hadn’t been intentionally manipulating me.  Maybe she was just seeking validation for her own insecurities.  But that doesn’t fucking matter to me any more.  I don’t care what her excuses were.  She hurt me.  And only now, that I’m in a healthy, loving relationship, am I starting to realize just how deeply she’d hurt me.  And with the help of my partner, I’m finally starting to heal.

[oldladydatin]

My Besties Brother

When my ex husband and I’s relationship was falling apart, I kept that shit to myself. This is who I am in a relationship, loyal to fault. I’ll defend your honor in public even when I know you’re wrong. People didn’t know. Until the last few years everyone thought we were the perfect couple, people would comment how adorable we were constantly. The last few years I told people, things got so bad I finally felt like I needed a support system and the girls I went to school with saw me break into tears randomly and eventually I told them why. I told a few guys when we decided it was over. But generally people back home, people who were close to us didn’t know until the end. When I put that on facebook I didn’t make a big deal about it. I talked about moving and just didn’t mention him. Our family knew and they were upset. The weirdest part, his family was upset with him for losing me, my family was upset with me for leaving him. When I changed my status on facebook things got weird. Men I’d grown up with, ex boyfriends, men who added me but I wasn’t sure how I knew them, men I worked with, started messaging me. I’ve had a few men say they were in love with me, others say that had crushes on me but were afraid to tell me. Men who just messaged me to tell me my ex husband was stupid for letting me get away because they could only dream of having a good woman like me in their lives, and some of those comments were by his friends. Recently though was the absolute weirdest. My best friends brother has told me he has had a thing for me forever? I did NOT see this coming at all! 

My best friend is a lot older than me. I met her when we were both working at Walmart and I was just engaged. At some point she invited me to a party and it was just like the parties I grew up going to and her family was super laid back and we just clicked. She’s somewhere between my parents and I’s age. When I met her brother he was married and I was married, and when I was married I was committed, I didn’t see other men, like honestly barely even checked out other men, I was all in and that’s how I am when I’m in a committed relationship. I loved his wife, she was hilarious and we all hung out all the time. His wife decided to have weight loss surgery because they were having trouble getting pregnant due to her weight. I remember feeling guilty around her because I also had trouble getting pregnant. I went on this rather extreme PCOS diet, I chose that rather than going to the doctor for fertility treatments or any of that crap. It was expensive but on my 24th birthday I was pregnant and I was so happy because I knew I wanted to be a young mom. About the time I found out I was pregnant, they also found out they were pregnant but it only went on a few months and then she miscarried. So I felt guilt. Eventually though she had weight loss surgery and they had 2 little girls and shortly after his wife had a complete personality change. I always wondered if that was due to post partum depression or the weight loss surgery but she developed a pretty serious drug and sex addiction and left him and her two girls. I couldn’t ever wrap my head around this. He was such a nice guy honestly, like when she was extremely large I’d watched him put her shoes on for her. He worked, he cared for the girls, he catered to her and she still left. Towards the end he claimed to be injured on his job and fought for disability and eventually won. I never got that because he still played softball, my daughter, my bestie and I went to his games every week. He fixed cars in his driveway, plowed snow, hunted, fished, everything with his injuries. I didn’t ever say anything and I didn’t get involved. I feel like I’m in charge of my karma and he’s in charge of his and that’s how I approach these things. He’s gone through 2 more wife's. Maybe developed his own drug habit, had his own personality change. My bestie and I kind of make fun of him behind his back because now he has 2 more kids and more ex wife's. He always chooses horrible women. 

One day about a month ago he messages me and asks when I’m coming home. I think this is odd too because him and I don’t talk? Like he’s not my friend his sister is. I tell him I don’t know it’s hard to get time off. I start asking him if everything is okay because he never messages me and eventually this leads into a I’ve always been interested in you, I wish you would move home, you guys can live with me. I think he’s lost his mind, maybe he’s lonely. He starts telling me his new girlfriend is cheating on him with her ex husband and we talk about that. I think okay I’m right he’s just lonely. It’s something I’ve learned to look for the past 2 years, and sadly my mistakes have helped me spot it. Some men message me because they’re lonely or feel alone in general, they don’t feel complete and they want a woman to fix that, they are unhappy and want someone to fix that, they’re a mess in general and just want someone who is going to fix that. I’ve learned to spot this and I’m glad because I don’t want to complete someone and I don’t want someone to complete me, I was to find someone who is already complete on their own, I want to find someone who will only add to my life, not take from it. I also don’t want to feel dependent on a man to be a whole person, I am a whole person. So when he says him and his girl are having issues I completely disregard his statements about wanting to be with me and just assume he’s lonely and maybe he needs someone to talk to and we talk. Well this happens again the next day and he wants to talk about the possibility of me moving home. It happens the next day and the day after that, I hear from him in the morning when he’s getting ready for his day and at night when he’s heading to bed. I start to wonder if maybe he’s not lying? If maybe out of nowhere he decided to tell me he’s had feelings for me? I considered telling my best friend but then I think she’d be excited by that and she’d encourage it because she also wants me to move home and I don’t want to get her hopes up because I don’t think that’s my home anymore and I don’t see myself with this guy. 

Then friday comes and nothing, saturday nothing, sunday nothing, and then I hear from him monday morning. He tells me he went on a youth hunt with his daughter and yes he did. Here’s the unfortunate truth about my life. I’ve never had a man that really loved me, I never had a man who had my back, I just haven’t had that. Even my ex husband who didn’t lie or cheat on me gave me conditional love and if I didn’t meet his conditions I was on my own. Eric was in it for himself much like the men I was with before my marriage and so my experiences don’t stem from healthy relationships. Then men in my life have taught me to look for lies, inconsistencies, and games. Eric used to quit texting me on friday, saturday and sunday. At first I made excuses for him, like well he’s a single Dad and he’s out with his kids and they’re more important, until he showed me he was a bad guy. Soon I realized no he was out with someone else, whenever he went long stretches without text me it was because he was with someone else and he pretended to not understand why it upset me so much but it was because he made me feel cripplingly insecure because I knew he didn’t love me, he never had my back, and he had no idea what loyalty was and I don’t think he cared the only thing he cared about in life was himself. I look for that now, I have men who message me on dating apps and want to talk and talk until friday, saturday and sunday come along, and that’s the point where I back away. I don’t need someone who is only interested in me monday thru thursday. So this whole thing immediately made me back off and I wasn’t as quick to reply and I wasn’t as emotionally open. I figured his girlfriend and him made up and she’s free on the weekends and not free come monday and he’s bored and looking for attention and I’m good, I’ve been that girl enough times to know it doesn’t make me happy. 

So the messages drop off but he starts wanting to have more sexual conversation which is just weird because it’s my best friends little brother. Soon he wants me to send him sexy pictures. I’m at the point emotionally where I am beyond tired of men acting like I exist for their entertainment. I refused to send him pictures, I hadn’t deleted my bdsm page yet and I directed him there and told him there were sexy pics on that page. He makes 100 excuses as to why he can’t log on that page and see them and is like just send me some. I refused, if you’re too lazy to get on a website and look then you must not be that interested. This whole scenario is quickly annoying to me because he’s just like every other pos guy who messages me and being as I’ve known him for a long time and this idea of him as a good guy, it makes me disappointed in him.

 I message him eventually to tell him that I was planning on coming home for Christmas and he doesn’t act happy or excited or anything? So I was like you don’t seem excited about that and he doesn’t respond. At this point I’m over this situation anyways so I just quit texting and he quits texting, I think he could tell I was annoyed. Today he messaged me “so are you gonna fuck me when you come home.” I was instantly pissed, I said no. He said why not, I said I’m not some whore you can order up, you have a girlfriend, and you weren’t even excited I was coming home.” He claims he was really excited I was coming home, and then like slows his role. Let’s just say there’s a list of people I would love to see when I go home and one of them is a man, and it’s not this man. I have no more time for men like this in my life, I’d rather be alone. Just yesterday I blocked 2 men for unsolicited dick pics and surprised the hell out of a friend when he asked when the last time I masturbated was and I said at least a month. I’m just not in the mood. Eric took so much from me, and every guy after has taken just a little bit more and I feel broken and I feel like this isn’t what I need in my life a this time. I’m taking a year off from dating, which means my blog is about to become boring. Of course I’m now working two full time jobs and studying for a national nursing certification, who has time for dumb boys. I don’t.

[cosmic-poetics-livity]

PSYCHOLOGY TODAY

10 Tips for Reducing Anger

A cheat sheet to the cutting edge in anger-management

Posted Jan 15, 2015

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Source: wikimedia commons

The following is a partial distillation of ideas my colleague and I have more fully exposed in The Anger Fallacy. They're in no special order, except perhaps in as much as the first should probably come first. Some, admittedly, only touched on here, may require some unpacking (in particular 6, 7 and 8); but for those of you who cannot access the book, I'm happy to answer questions and to respond to comments!

1. Understand that anger is a problem

If you’re not convinced of this, then anger management tips will go right over your head, like sex tips aimed at Tibetan monks. How is anger a problem, you ask? Surely it’s healthy, and useful to some degree...?

Anger is unhelpful in a number of ways, but there are a lot of commonly used arguments that I won’t bother with: ‘Chronic anger will give you a heart attack.’ Yeah, OK, whatever. So will smoking, and stress, but it’s years down the track. ‘Anger’s not nice; people don’t like it’. 'Um... that's the whole point', you might respond! You may not want to be a 'nice' person; and you definitely don’t want people to like it. ‘Anger doesn’t feel good, it makes you unhappy’—sure, but presumably you already know how it feels, and it hasn’t stopped you yet. No. Anger is a problem first and foremost because it is an ineffective way of operating in the (social) world, can occasionaly backfire, and ultimately ruins relationships. At its core, anger is an evolved intimidation strategy. The most publicised instances of anger occur in war zones, in traffic, and in hotel lobbies. But surveys tell us that approximately 80% of day-to-day anger actually occurs with family and loved ones whom you care about (by definition). These aren’t necessarily people you wish to bully and intimidate. Actually, anger is much less effective in getting people around you to behave ‘correctly’ than, say, heart-to-hearts, cajoling, incentives, or calmly stated assertiveness. And even when anger does have the odd pay-off—your husband remembers to lift the toilet seat or your housemate turns the music down—it comes at the cost of warmth and intimacy, and tends to come back to bite you (in the form of defensiveness or escalation mostly). Just about every bit of research out there suggests that having warm (non-angry) relationships is the key to human happinessand emotional wellbeing. So this is no small cost.

2. Monitor your anger

I strongly recommend keeping an anger log over at least two or three weeks. You may be surprised at what it reveals. As well as raising insight, it can help you to take a detached ‘observer stance’ with regard to your anger. Monitor any and every episode of anger, from fleeting moments of frustration or impatience, to extreme rage. For each one, note down the facts of what went down (neighbour’s dog still barking despite our asking them to deal with it); the intensity of your anger 0-10, where 0 = no anger, and 10 = maximum rage; any thoughts or images you were aware of during the scene (wringing the dog’s neck, keying the neighbour’s car, memories of the conversation you’d had with him the week before, etc.); any other feelings you may have experienced in the scene (e.g. anxiety, dread); and what you actually did (ranted to wife). This habit of systematically describing your angry outbursts is often all someone needs in order to gain a little perspective. Give it a whirl.

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3. Feel the anger and DON’T do it anyway

Anger interferes with problem-solving and good judgment, and makes you rash and rigid in your thinking. This is why even the most articulate person you know can be reduced to repetitious expletives when enraged. Ambrose Bierce, the American satirist, wisely remarked, “speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.” While fear drives us to flee, anger drives us to aggress and confront. Anger motivates revengeand retaliation. Unfortunately, the best revenge is not, as a rule, to live well. Anger is a poor guide to happiness. Hence my counterintuitive advice to ‘Feel the anger and not do it anyway’—the flipside to the pop-psychology slogan. I would recommend you: go to bed angry (despite your grandmother’s advice); sit on the angry email for a day or two before sending it; walk away from a fight where possible; and seek advice from a (non-angry) third party before taking any hostile action. If you still wish to carry out these actions when you’re calmer, then go ahead. They may coincide with self-interest. But, chances are you won’t want to. In the heat of anger you’re likely to make decisions you’ll regret.

4. Watch yourself angry: the Federer cure

The angry are often proud of their anger. Even if they leave a scene having achieved nothing (such as giving the finger to a car that pulls in front of them), they often experience a warm inner glow of self-satisfaction as a result of their actions. They appear to believe they’ve just accomplished something tough, powerful and righteous. This is not, of course, how they are perceived by their victims, spouses,

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The man in the mirror

Source: Pixabay/ CC0 Public Domainor onlookers… And more interestingly, it’s not necessarily what they themselves might think if they could watch themselves from the outside while not angry. It's worth seeing or hearing yourself genuinely angry at least once in your life. If it’s difficult to catch yourself in a spontaneous fit of rage, it’s worth replaying an angry scene in front of the mirror. According to tennis great Roger Federer, who was a racket-smashing brat in his junior years, it was watching himself throwing tantrums on TV that put him off it for life.

5. Look after yourself

All other things being equal, the state you’re in as you enter an anger-provoking scene will influence the severity of an anger episode. If you are stressed, tired, sick, hungover, agitated, or in any kind of emotionally compromised state when you encounter an annoyance or provocation, then your response will be magnified well out of proportion. So it's worth being on the lookout for such factors. I’ll unpack a few of the most common culprits:

Alcohol abuse is the most common co-morbid condition of patients presenting with anger problems. The recent king-hit murders attest to how vicious a combination alcohol and aggression can be.

Fatigue and stress would have to come next: 96% of Aussies wake up tired, according to a recent sleep survey conducted in my hometown. Fatigue shortens the fuse. Get some rest!

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Other known anger exacerbators include unmet needs or drives (hunger, thirst, lust, etc.); sickness; pain; and, no surprises here, PMS.

Reducing background variables is a good, easy start in the fight against anger. Get some sleep; take some time off; streamline your week; delegate; relax; improve your diet and so on. In short, look after yourself. When these things are unavoidable, then I believe awareness that you’re in a compromised state can be half the battle. Being stressed and tired might make you more irritable when the kids are fighting in the back seat; but insight that your state is a factor might help you realize they’re not entirely to blame. It might also be a reason to put off that phone call to your father until after you’ve had a nap and some alone time…

6. Understand the ultimate source of your anger: SHOULDING

Most people believe that it’s other people’s behaviour that makes them angry. Your son is texting at the dinner table; that just is irritating; and anger ensues. End of story. The problem with this oversimplified model is that it doesn’t explain why the other people at the dinner table aren’t irritated by your son’s behaviour (your son first and foremost of course). It doesn’t explain why something can annoy you one day, and not another. I can remember in my twenties being genuinely irritated by people who used the word ‘disinterested’ when they meant ‘uninterested’; I now think this is a ridiculous and snobbish reaction. There’s no single event that reliably angers everyone all the time. And there’s no single event that never angers anyone any of the time. Insisting on paying the bill might insult a date; but letting them pay might be an even graver offence. Then again, depending on the person, they could just be chilled either way. A cartoon depicting the prophet Muhammad may infuriate some individuals, and amuse others, depending on their position on the matter. I was sharply upbraided by an old man the other day for eating a mandarin near him on the bus. I remember thinking, ‘now there’s a first’. But it shouldn’t have surprised me. You don’t get angry because of external events alone, but because of how you appraise those events. Anger always involves framing behaviour as ‘wrong’—not-as-it-should-be. The man on the bus thought my eating a mandarin was inappropriate—disrespectful perhaps; of course most wouldn’t have this appraisal, but he did. If your son’s phone use at the table annoys you, it’s because you hold that family members ‘should’ engage socially at the dinner table. Your spouse mightn’t necessarily have that expectation, and nor might the boy’s siblings, quietly watching TV out of the corner of their eye. Anger is shoulding.

Positively fuming with righteous indignation

Source: wikimedia commons

7. Become less judgmental

If anger is driven by internal rules of how others ought to behave, this makes it a very ‘self-righteous’ emotion. But if you can see some of your rules for what they are —‘just the way I was brought up’ or ‘my way of doing things’—then it will naturally seem silly to judge others for not following them. It helps to remind yourself of the many different ways in which humans around the world operate. In many parts of Asia, it is considered rude to enter a restaurant with your shoes on; in most Western restaurants it is considered rude to take them off. Who’s right and who’s wrong here? We’d say there’s no answer to this question: they’re just two different sets of rules. You may believe it is wrong to smoke marijuana; many Jamaicans would disagree. You may object to homosexuality or women in politics or lovers kissing on public benches. There’ll almost always be someone who agrees with you, and others who staunchly oppose you. That’s because these things are matters of opinion, not fact. Must people work hard and strive to reach their fullest potential, or is a breezier, more spiritual life acceptable too? You probably have opinions on these things, which is fine. But if you walk around convinced your opinions on how people must behave are right and universal, you’ll live a restricted life, as well as an angry one.

8. Think like a scientist, not a lawyer

The angry speak a lot about the bad ‘choices’ people make, and what people ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t have’ done. Logically speaking, if you believe someone should have acted differently, you must believe they could have acted differently at the moment of performing the (mis)deed. But being the person they were and seeing things as they did, there’s only one thing they ever could or would have done. To do something else they would have had to have a different brain and held different beliefs. If you can get your head around this, and make a habit of explaining people’s behaviour rather than simply condemning it, then you will be a good deal wiser, as well as calmer. We strongly suggest replacing ideas of ‘responsibility’ and ‘blame’ with those of causes and solutions. This is essentially what scientists do—they try to work out the causes behind events. You may shake your head rather unsympathetically at your uncle’s gambling problem. But a scientist asks, ‘What causes this person to gamble?’ The answer to this question will be complex, and will potentially involve factors from his personality, beliefs, knowledge base, mood states, physiology, as well as from his upbringing, environment and culture. This is very different, mind you, from saying it’s right or good to gamble, or from resigning yourself to someone’s behaviour. Taking a scientific explaining approach rather than a moralistic blaming one makes people’s behaviour more understandable and as a consequence easier to influence. And of course once you understand the causes of a behaviour, there’s nothing left to get angry about. You see its inevitability. And all that remains is a problem to solve.

9. Empathise

Empathy overlaps somewhat with ‘thinking scientifically’, except that it’s more intuitive. Empathising means living in the skin of someone else. It is an antidote to anger, because it’s hard to condemn someone if you really understand where they’re coming from.

Anger almost always involves an inability to get the person you’re angry at. It stems from a failure to understand them. This is why so much anger is expressed verbally in statements of apparent astonishment or perplexity:

Why the hell would you do something like that?

What’s gotten into you?

How could you ... ?

I can’t believe this!

What was she thinking?

These, incidentally, are actually very good questions to ask yourself in earnest when you're angry, but people only ever intend them rhetorically (and pejoratively). Often, interestingly, the people we profess to find the most perplexing are those closest to us, whom we'd be best placed to empathise with. A couple I saw recently was fighting over domestic chores. As it turned out, the husband liked things to be clean and hygienic, but was relatively oblivious to tidiness; the wife needed things to look neat and orderly, but didn’t worry that much about dust or germs. Each thought that their own standpoint was sensible, and that the other person’s was entirely neurotic. The truth is: neither of these viewpoints is silly or hard to relate to. They simply reflect different concerns or priorities. Most of the time it’s not so much that individuals can’t relate to one another, it’s that they just don’t: they’re blinkered by their own point of view and place more importance on making their own points than on understanding others'.

Some of you may have seen the televised argument between Ben Affleck and Sam Harris on the heated topic of the dangers of Islam. Affleck blatently misconstrues his opponent's point of view. Harris attempts to explain himself, but Affleck feels he's heard enough. He's too angry to listen. Interestingly, Harris, in a blog after the event, rather than retaliate, writes that he gets where Affleck was coming from: "If I were seated across the table from someone I “knew” to be a racist and a warmonger, how would I behave?" This is another case where making the effort to understand the other person’s viewpoint can diffuse anger.

10. Get your facts straight

Angry people often display a bias toward interpreting others’ behaviour as hostile, deliberate, or nasty, even when they lack the information to really be sure. They’re occasionally right, of course, but very frequently they’ve gotten something wrong, or taken it the wrong way. The simplest first step in reducing your anger is to take a moment and make sure you’ve got all your facts straight. Are you sure the acquaintance who passed you by really snubbed you and didn’t just not see you? Can you be certain that your wife’s forgetting to pick up the milk was really a personal sign of disrespect, and not just an oversight? Are you positive your neighbour is playing that music just to spite you? Is it really fair to say that so and so is always late, or that such and such never does anything nice for you? Are you sure you've understood your opponent's position? If you aren’t positive beyond a reasonable doubt, why not suspend your judgment, pending further evidence. Innocent until proven guilty. This little habit alone can save you a lot of unnecessary grief, or should I say grievance.