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thisdreamplace · 3 years ago

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Im sad nd m feeling hopeless byond woeds. i feel directionless , alone nd..... very upset about everything in my life

Like yesterday i tried to talk to my mum abt somethng that was bothering me nd instead, she gets so much madder like she has high bp and her bp went up from yelling the crud outa me, like the only explanation other than eiyoo is she got defensive nd felt i was being ungrateful, i mean everyone else in the family stays silent and dont step forward i feel abandoned sometimes like maybe they're secretly glad shes not mad at them? Im sick of feeling this way. Idk if u know this feeling? Im not talking abt her my mum but i mean abt life in general? One real reason my mum is harsh is cuz im not doing well in life, like im not going places i want to (not literal places like metaphoricaly) bcuz of fear and social anxiety that no one ariynd me has a teeny idea of what its like. So im aware that she wants the best for me cuz i understand the everyone is u cincepf a bit. Even then its been years of same things nd issues repeating with me. For example m feeling like im gonna crack one day and when i break forever i don't even want to pick up my pieces!

Im so happy to hear ur doing wonderfully. Nd a part of me felt angry at it for a short while lol honestly like how come things are effortlesly going for u as u say, why cant i how can i experience it too, even tho my inner place is a nightmare place 😆 not a dreamplace like urs. I actually lov ur blog nd you lol dont mind me im just throwing out my thoughts, nd I fully understand how things weren't easy for u in the beginning nd everything u say on ur blog. Wish i could be brave nd not in my mind only

💀 nightmare place

i feel sad that you feel so down because life seems like its against you and you're feeling hopeless. its truly the worst to be in that sort of mindset, and i truly know you can find your way out of it. i'm glad you felt safe throwing out your thoughts here.

the truth of the matter is... the law can be difficult in the way that you really have to be willing to take responsibility for yourself. you really have to be willing to stop feeling sorry for yourself. you really have to be the one to pick yourself up and say, "enough is enough, i cant live like this anymore — i have to do better for myself." the truth is you have to want it more than you want to stay in your comfort zone. because if you dont, your comfort zone will always be waiting to invite you back in. and you will always answer the call. i would know, i lived like that most of my life. because the old way of life is comforting, its what youve always known so it makes more sense to you. you rationalize it, "this is the way things have always been." well guess what. it doesnt have to be that way. but i cant make you change your mind. only you can take that leap of faith.

you have to be willing to change before anyone and anything else does. no more waiting for life to treat you better so that you can finally feel good, you have to feel better with or without the help of the 3D.

when you say it made you angry to see how i'm doing well, i understand. i used to be similar. success stories were bittersweet. i felt happy for the person, but upset that i couldnt relate. why was everyone else able to make the law work in weeks and yet it had been months for me, and things just didnt seem to work ? why me ? that's the way i used to think.

well one day you'll look back at this type of moment and it'll all make sense. you seriously cannot keep being the same person, thinking the same thoughts and same feelings you have for years, thinking you'll get a new result. it's the opposite of what the law teaches us to be true. you've got to change and i mean really change. you must let the old story die and let the new story become your life, entirely.

you can brush off my struggle easily, but realize this. everyday i wake up and make the conscious decision to wake up and have a beautiful experience. a month ago i literally hit rock bottom; everything in the 3D i cared about so much seemed to fall apart. and i had to face that and still find the strength to say, "you know what, fuck this — i can't keep living this way." without the help of the 3D i had to pick myself up everyday, even when i felt like crumbling. i had more than my fair share of crying all day, of feeling like my heart would literally come out because of how hard i cried. considering that maybe life isnt for me after all, and perhaps i would be better off ending it there. i didnt have anything in the external world to give me hope. i had to find hope within myself. i had to look at a world that made me feel so ugly and decide its actually a beautiful world, despite the illusion. i had to take the law seriously, i had to surrender to the teachings, i had to make the art of imagining a daily practice because i decided i deserve better. and only i can give that to myself. the world cannot provide me with anything i refuse to provide myself with — this is the basics of the law. and through persistence, through not giving up on myself on the hard days, i am now singing a much more beautiful song.

when you fully accept that 1) imagining creates reality and 2) you are the only cause for all you experience... it becomes difficult to not take this more seriously. because you know how whatever you are/have within, is your experience. but you have to surrender to those truths, its up to you. i'd recommend listening to the podcast 'feeling twisty' if you're interested in what i'm saying here. mike is really the one who's explanation of the law helped me learn the importance of taking responsibility for my inner world.

im rooting for you sweet, dream place. behind the illusion of the nightmare, a dream awaits. 💖

#i am

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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Name part 2 (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Sequel to Name (part 1)

Word count: 1,445

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: I had trouble writing this for some reason. I started off writing one scenario, but I ended up hating it after writing 500 words and then deleted the whole thing and started over, so I’m sorry if it’s not satisfying enough. I think I need to just write more angst I think I just need a break from angst, or I’m just exhausted from today because I was out all day.

I promise the ending is happy. This one is half the length of the original since this was one of the original endings I was considering for the 1st part.

I’ll probably pick right up with the other angst submissions tomorrow if I’m not still exhausted. Hopefully I won’t go overboard again...

Shoto didn't know how to feel once she left him. It didn't hurt as much as it would hurt for a lover to walk out on you, but he still felt the most amount of guilt he's ever been burdened with. He wanted to blame his father for putting them in this position to fail, but he knew how childish that would be. In reality, he was accountable for his own behavior, and he'd taken his anger out on an innocent person in the same situation as him. He should have commended her for being the bigger person. And now he's lost her.

His biggest frustration is that he never even got a good look at her. In his mind, her image is a fuzzy mix of color, no real outline of a body or face that he can remember. How could he have lived in the same house as someone for 5 months, but not know them like the back of his hand? Deep down, he knows that if he had looked at her, he would've internalized how human she is and would've treated her better than a doormat.

As he lay in bed after she left, all the things he wanted to apologize for but didn't get the chance to were still hanging in his mind, uncomfortably unfulfilled.

The next morning, Shoto decides he needs to apologize immediately. He hates the eerie loneliness of being the only person in the house. Even if he never acknowledged it before, in hindsight, at least he felt he presence of company. At least he had someone to talk to, even if everything out of his mouth was a critique. The walls seem to close in on him, the sunlight isn't as warm, and, most importantly, there was no breakfast waiting for him. A vain problem, but it sobered him to know she had still taken care of his needs through everything.

After fixing his own meal, he called his agency to tell them he's taking the day off and didn't delay in rushing to his in-law's house. The nervous pit in Shoto's stomach almost makes him throw up his breakfast, but he ignores it. All acts of courage require varying degrees of nerves.

On his way over, his father calls him constantly, probably to give him an earful about "ruining their perfectly-matched marriage." He doesn't need to hear it from Endeavor when he's already chewing himself up about it, and he turns off his phone to concentrate.

Shoto walks up to the family's door, smoothing his clothes and hair out. He feels akin to a boy picking his girlfriend up from her parents' house for their first date and trying to make a good first impression, except Shoto's already married his daughter and needs to make up for the awful impression they already have of him. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the doorbell, his heart hammering in his chest wildly.

Her father and mother answer the door, expressions less than pleased already.

"Good morning. I hope I haven't disturbed you." Shoto was raised with manners, and he hopes politeness with get him somewhere.

The two don't say anything in response to him. Understandable, given the condition their daughter was sent back in.

Trying not to be too disheartened under their malicious stares, the boy asks "May I come in? I would like to speak with you and your daughter."

"If Endeavor sent you, we don't want to hear anything you have to say," her mother scowls, rightfully so.

"No, ma'am, I am here without my father's knowledge," he responds earnestly, trying not to seem too firm about his tone or his face. He's trying to appear sincere, a husband trying to set things right from the bottom of his heart.

The couple exchanges glances, but let the young boy in without another word, which Shoto takes as a small victory. They lead him to their formal living room where they sit together on one couch and Shoto prefers to stand. A maid brings cups of tea and a pot to rest on the coffee table between them before bowing and shuffling away.

"I won't allow you to see my daughter," her mother states bluntly, "Not after hearing her crying over the phone for what you've put her through the last 5 months." The boy almost winces, the memory of overhearing the girl's phone call still fresh.

"You can say your piece to us and we may pass it on to her," her father adds, eyeing the boy.

Shoto breathes to calm the jumping nerves in his gut. One wrong move and he know he'll be kicked out immediately. He levels his calm gaze at the piercing glare of the couple in front of him. "I'm not here to make excuses for my actions. What I did was terribly wrong, both as a person and as a husband to your daughter. I accept full responsibility for my mistakes." He bows fully at the waist. "I apologize deeply for my behavior towards your daughter. I let my personal feelings get in the way of our relationship flourishing as she wished. I don't deserve it, but I would like to ask for forgiveness."

The parents are silent, leaving the boy to listen to his hammering heartbeat as he retains his position. The lack of response is ear-deafening to him.

"You many stand, Todoroki," her father instructs, the edge slightly lessened in his voice.

When Shoto returns to his original position, their daughter stands between them, remnant sadness still filling her eyes. It's the first time he's taken a good look at her. She's a head shorter than him, hair down past her shoulders, respectable composure. Even with a tired expression, she exudes calm.

He doesn't know what he should do now. The girl looks between him and her parents. "I'd like to be alone with him, please," she requests in a soft voice. It's a stark contrast between the voice that reported their divorce to him.

Though her parents are wary at first, she smiles to reassure them and they agree to leave the pair to talk.

All the apologies Shoto prepared start bubbling up his throat, unsure how to start or organize his thoughts. He's overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, composure crumbling under the weight of his words. "I'm so sorry about everything- I heard you crying and I- I'm an idiot for-"

"Funny how you can form coherent sentences to my parents, but not to me," she jokes lightheartedly.

Her small smile calms Shoto so he can gather this thoughts and try again. "I've done you such a disservice. I let my anger towards my father prevent me from taking care of you like I should have." He moves to touch her hand to comfort her, but he stops and redirects it to the back of his neck. "You must have felt so unwanted and lonely. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done or said to you. When I heard you on the phone with your mother, I had every intention of coming back and fixing everything, but you had already made your decision." His eyes meet her's again. "If you wish to continue with the divorce, I understand. I wanted to come and apologize to you because it's what you deserve. And, if you forgive me enough, we can start over and build a relationship as you wanted originally."

At first, the girl is silent, clawing at Shoto to be left in anticipation. Then, she tilts her head and asks, a cheeky grin on her lips, "Do you love me, Shoto?"

His hopes come crashing down at the question. "I'm sorry to say, but I'm not in love with you right now. Our marriage isn't like that."

She shakes her head at him. "I wasn't expecting you to suddenly have a huge change of heart like that. We're still barely strangers, though I do know way more about you than you know about me. As long as you're open to any kind of affection, it's fine."

His eyes widen childishly. "Does that mean-"

She smiles, finally showing teeth to him, and envelops him in a hug. He breathes out in relief and returns the gesture. A small voice in the back of his had notes how perfectly she fits in his arms.

"Who knows? We might end up actually falling in love slowly as time goes by," she giggles against his chest. "That's how it tends to happen in the movies."

The slight vibrations invoke a strange warmth to bloom within Shoto, not resulting from his quirk, and his eyes widen. Oh.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki angst #angst to fluff #shouto todoroki #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #request #ask #anon #female reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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nametags · 4 years ago

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But her emails...

I aim to be a woman of integrity. I’ve sat on the content I’m about to share for almost 6 years in part because it originally was a private conversation between me and a friend. A friend who happens to be a lead singer of a band, but a friend none the less. However the way people have been speaking about him and what’s been going on in the world lately, I couldn’t let this stay hidden anymore.

I’m tired of people claiming that because Patrick no longer uses social media (and hasn’t for damn near five years at this point) that somehow he doesn’t “care” or isn’t doing anything right now to help the Black Lives Matter movement. I’m also incredibly tired of people ignoring/belittling the fact that Pete Wentz is a biracial/black man in America. You really do not want the social media person in charge of Patrick’s account tweeting things out. It would be hollow and fake.

Below is both a transcript of the conversation I had with Patrick on 12/06/2014, a follow up message he sent to me 08/25/2015, and the accompanying screenshots. Unfortunately I do not have the tweet(s) that prompted me to contact him in the first place nor can I find screenshots of them to provide that context. An image of me and my younger brother Jacob when we met the band at Boys of Zummer will also be attached to demonstrate one of the people I was concerned about in my original email.

The only redactions made were my personal email address and the name of a friend I referenced. Patrick deleted his email account at some point between late 2016 and early 2017. It’s only left in these screenshots as proof for those who knew the address before to see these were legitimate messages. I hope the content reveals not only where his heart lies not only then but where it is now.

Allison White: So I caught the insanity way late, but it's a tricky spot to be in with what's going on. For most of my life, I didn't even identify with half of my race. I was raised with my mom's side of the family and it just didn't click for me. It really hasn't been until teen years and onward that I've opened my eyes to it all. And with that, I began to grow wary of authority in a way. Like I still believe that people go into law enforcement for the right reasons. The few times I have dealt with police officers personally I haven't been concerned, but I have noticed in the past few years that when I spot a police car on the road or an officer just out in public somewhere is if I look "white enough" or do I actually look like an adult who belongs in whatever space I am in. I know Trayvon Martin was murdered by a vigilante and not an actual officer of the law, but that was when I first started to fear for my little brothers. I knew both of them were the sort of young men that could get targeted and most likely justice would not be found for them. And then there comes this summer. With both the Mike Brown and Eric Garner cases coming back with no indictment, it makes it feel as if it's just open season for black people to be hunted by cops. Which is hurtful for the cops who are actually in it to protect and serve, and every citizen who now has to wonder if they are next. I hope that your cousin is doing alright. I hope that people aren't making his job harder right now. Just I know for me right now with all that's going on I am definitely on the side of the protesters.

Patrick Stump: Brief for now; I'm sorry in all that you didn't notice that I'm squarely on the side of the protestors too. That's a failure of my wording

PS: The problem is that I so poorly expressed myself, people thought I was balancing the empathy to be spread across the black community and cops. That's a mistake on my part. I'm angry.

I'm angry that Mike Brown's case didn't yield enough evidence to indict. But that case was a very complicated one...Brown had just (allegedly) committed a violent crime and information was murky. As sure as I was that Wilson straight up murdered the Brown, I understood the limitations of the american Justice system given how little evidence there was. That's the unfortunate reality of justice is that it needs to be just. It needs to be 100%. We can't go in with "I know in my heart." And so that case pissed me off, but I understood it.

With Eric Garner however, this just feels so flagrant. By no accounts was he violent, wasn't he doing anything that could even be misconstrued as life-threatening enough to even imagine defending the usage of deadly force. He was cooperating and they choked him to death on camera. That's fucked up. I'm pissed. I tried to be polite and sit back and not say anything, but I'm pissed.

However, my reason for discussing the side of the police as well is that human beings are complicated. When we boil people down to simplistic stereotypes, when we create a narrative of "Us VS them," we lose sight of the humanity of it all. You can't reason with a "Them." You can only reason with a person and it works better when you remember they're people.

I don't believe in enemies. I'm not religious but I love the way Jesus preached "Love thy enemy." That's hugely influential to me. Hugely important. That's the empathy I mean.

The other night I was holding my son and I thought to myself about a black girl I used to date. And how, we could have had a kid together. Maybe a little boy. And how, that boy could (by no action of his own) be killed just for the color of his skin. Like, I've heard and read words like that before, but to actually connect with it (on as small a scale as that) was horrifying. Gutting. For a little moment I thought, all this joy and all this beauty and somewhere, someone's having a black baby boy, loving him and feeling all the same things I feel for my son. But I wondered if in between their tired diaper changes and their burpings, if they were saying a silent prayer "I hope you don't get killed by a cop." If they say it constantly because they know how possible it is. Or even if he lives to be a 100, what black man won't have an unjust run in with the law? Not to make it exclusively a male issue but seriously, how many black men are in prison right now in America? That's a disgusting thing. The young parent of a young black boy probably considers that and that's maybe the most depressing thing I've ever tried to understood. That's a horrifying thing. There really still is a racial divide in this country, and to not be black is to not say those little prayers. We live in a supposedly free country. What about the pursuit of happiness? Who's defending the right of that little black baby boy born somewhere in America to just be an adorable little baby without any pretense? And when that baby grows up, who's defending his right to walk down a residential sidewalk and not expect to get pulled over and frisked? Maybe worse?

So I'm angry. Just plain angry. But I didn't want to offend anyone so I expressed my anger in the lightest way I could think of.

I'm not sorry for having an opinion, I'm sorry I explained it so poorly that you didn't know what it was.

AW: All of this is hard, and there is so much anger. You shouldn't ever be sorry for your opinions, and I am pretty sure you yourself have told people only be sorry for how you express your opinions. I wasn't upset with you or what you said, I just felt compelled to share that for me there's a knee jerk reaction to the image/idea of police and why. This whole situation has been tough and it's been inspiring watching people across this country let their anger show and demonstrate in the streets against it. It makes me wish I was brave enough to take part in it out in the streets and not just online.

I hope this collective anger and protest leads to real change. That in 2014 we are able to do the things they were aiming for in 1964. I mean recently the full letter the FBI sent to MLK to urge him into suicide was released and it just highlights the divide between how much has and has not changed. There's a lot of value in what religion is supposed to teach. Love thy enemy, love thy neighbor. True love and care for those around you is a great thing and certainly something I'd hope people identified with.

The past nearly seven years there has been this push for hope and change. Maybe the country is finally reaching a point to make it happen?

PS: I have a funny feeling this is civil rights part 2. I'm proud of the protests. I'm so grateful our generation is angry about something it should be angry about for a change.

AW: An argument can be made that our generation (or just post baby boomer generations in general) have been taught and fed nonsense to keep us compliant, but that veers into a territory that I am not completely sure or comfortable with. Overall I do think that this is heading a direction that the powers that be are not ready for in the slightest.

PS: Where did I go wrong? What do people think I said? They're so mad at me, and none of the people have said anything I didn't mean. I'm not getting angry right-wing stuff, people are just calling me a racist. What did I say that was racist? What do I think that's racist?

AW: There's a strong immediate reaction right now of if you sound slightly in favor of the officers that did wrong that you are racist. The swift reaction and need to dogpile on is kind of crazy. I think people took the initial comment to mean "not all cops!!!!" In the same vein as "not all men!!!" and that's where the rage is coming from.

AW: Just to be clear, those who matter know you're not racist. You have shown both in your words and actions where your beliefs lie. I don't know how to calm the masses right now because at least for the time being its not going to get through :(

AW: You could try a blog entry on tumblr?

PS: Nah, I think I've done enough damage for one lifetime. I think I'll keep it to myself but I appreciate your talking it through with me.

AW: No problem. I am always willing to be a sounding board for that stuff if you need it.

PS: I re-read my stuff; "I support our police," is the worst things said. I meant "I support the idea of police and the need for a police force we can trust on a national level," not "I support the police in NYC who are killing people and attacking protestors." That sucks.

AW: If you wanna try to clarify now you can. At least in your Google alert it only had one mention of he mess and it was a tumblr user supporting/defending you.

PS: There's no fixing it. The Internet is unforgiving I think and the reality is, I said that. I didn't mean it in the way that it so obviously sounds, but I said that. So I deserve everything I get.

AW: It will most likely go easier if you let it ride out instead of trying to go out and fight it. That just gives the "he doth protest too much" air about it. Hopefully the energy behind letting you know you said something like that will dissipate sooner rather than later. And that it won't get big enough for someone to write a story about it.

PS: Yeah. It'll sound like back-pedaling and glad-handing. Anyway, thanks for talking it through!

AW: You're very welcome! Thank you for hearing out my side of it this morning.

PS: I never would've ignored your side.

AW: Which is very much appreciated

AW: I say that because in the past two weeks I have lost a handful of friends because of all of what's going on and them being unable to understand how and why their words hurt me.

PS: Well that's awful and unfair

AW: It was but they were all from the "when I look at you I don't see black, I just see Ally" camp and then would go on to say things about stereotypes and "thugs"

PS: Yeah. Thug. "Oh that's so ghetto." Bullshit.

AW: When someone says "thug" it's always clear they wanna say the n word

PS: Or even if they're the kind of "Well meaning," person who knows enough not to say that word, they mean the same thing

PS: "Not like you. You're good"

PS: White America just needs to know what it doesn't know

PS: Or rather, understand that there are things they (we) will never understand. Not from a first person perspective.

AW: It always makes me want to scream. The erasure of identity so then the people known to them stay safe. It reminds me of something I witnessed the other day. My friend [REDACTED] from junior high is now an established lawyer. Needless to say he has been keeping up very much with the recent events. He made a post about it and one of his friends commented with "I wish you would go back to being my friend [REDACTED] and not my black friend [REDACTED]." Mind you there's no denying [REDACTED] is a black man. He can't pass in the slightest so the comment shocked and saddened me. Thankfully [REDACTED] handled it with poise and grace.

PS: If you have to say you have a "black friend," then you probably don't. That's fucked. I guess I just genuinely didn't imagine how pervasive this stuff really is. Like, Pete and Joe and I have been talking a lot today. I was under the misapprehension that we grew up in a decently inclusive area. Just come to find out, nobody used those words around me. The whole time they were heckling kids like Joe and Pete. I thought racism was this thing that doesn't happen here. It's scary how much it's come out post Obama's election. Elected officials sending out mass e-mails of pictures of watermelons. I just didn't get it. Ignorance is bliss.

AW: It knows how to hide in plain sight, which is a lot of the problem. People are taught "don't be racist!!!!" Without being told exactly what racism is. People (myself included at times) aren't aware of words/phrases/ideas have nefarious ties until too late.

PS: I think we get too caught up on words and not enough on what they imply. "Thug," means a prepackaged idea of a black male. It instantly limits his perceived intelligence, his perceived trustworthiness, his perceived value to society, and his perceived prospects in life. That's so fucked. We expect black men to go to prison. Not be doctors and lawyers. When a black man is a doctor or lawyer, we treat him like such a cool novelty. When a black woman asserts herself, she's so "Sassy." "You go girl."

These little words and phrases feel harmless. They never were

AW: Those are the positives. Usually assertive black women are angry, mean. It's so fucked all around.

AW: I really owe Pete for helping me be informed on Ferguson. He tweeted the hashtag the night the protests started in August and it helped me dive in. I am sure tumblr would have got me to it eventually, but seeing it from day one was a definite help.

PS: You know part of my problem? I'm just not brave enough to say what I think. I'm just scared of offending people. Pete's not. He doesn't care. That's powerful

AW: It takes a lot to just put it out there. I am not sure if I had the amount of eyes on me that you do that I would be so "fuck you I will do/say what I want" as I am. Hell I become such a shadow of myself when at work with how quiet and polite I am. I mean I am still pierced and tatted with short hair so visually I say a lot, but then I watch my speech to make us for it.

(Follow up on 8/25/2015)

Patrick Stump: That is amazing and I'm very flattered. By the way; Been thinking about our conversation from a year ago a lot. The takeaway is this: Saying "All lives matter," and "Not all cops," while literally true are contextually horrendous. Really awful. In retrospect I feel pretty awful about saying both. Specifically because "All lives matter," can carry a lot of implications. Who's lives? I meant by it that Latinos and Muslims are also unreasonably targeted/mistreated/murdered by cops. But is it as systematic or blatant as it is with darker skinned Americans? Not remotely. Furthermore, as a white man, I just need to remember how fucking easy I have it. It's easy for me to preach peace and unflinching patience when I've NEVER been a victim of the War On Drugs or the aftermath of straight up slavery. So there's a lot to think about in terms of what I, a white guy, have to say and do about the situation. But not a lot I have to say about the way it feels to be oppressed to the point of feeling like less than a citizen of this country. I shouldn't have spoken about it because I don't/can't know. Well-meaning white folks get to talk about policy changes and do everything we can to help, otherwise we should get the fuck out of the way. I'm sorry, really REALLY sorry to the world that I ever said either of those things. It's more than "Fuck the police." It's "Fuck this whole system." And as aware as I'd been, I hadn't realized how complacent in it I was. Anyway, disgusted I said what I said. Sorry to the whole world for being part of the problem

#text #fall out boy #patrick stump #black lives matter

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thejoshuaglenn-blog · 3 years ago

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You're a Good Boy, Charlie Brown

The key purpose of a Tumblr blog here is really a brain dump: logging thoughts, feelings, narrative and such is easier in long form than via a brief Facebook post that generates half a dozen "oh no, what happened" comments. As I'm writing this, most of it seems like bullet points and organized timelines. If you're looking for a TL;DR or current state of thoughts, it's the last section titled The Day After, and the Day After That.

A few days ago, Niko and I said goodbye to our first dog, Charlie Brown.

I'm not keen to chat about it a lot. There's more to process than I have time to type; most of it centers around being fair to myself and to Niko, taking the time to appreciate his life without beating ourselves up, and avoiding the overwhelming mire that grief can become.

Joining the Family

CB was a rescue, a hapless victim of the 2016 Louisiana floods and a happy-go-lucky participant in a "dog for a day" event hosted by a local shelter. I fully expected to rent him out for a day, give him a few great experiences, and return him. For myriad reasons, we never did bring him back to Pet Rescue by Judy, and he's been with us ever since.

At adoption, he was estimated to be around 4-8 years old. With a kicked-in shoulder that offset his collarbone and ribcage, some assorted dental issues, and other little signs of damage (cigarette burns, what the heck is wrong with people), it was tough to really gauge his age. That means he left this world at the ripe old age of something like 9-13, which isn't terrible considering all he'd been through.

Charlie Brown was the iconic good boy. He seldom barked, he never licked or jumped, and just wanted to be in the same room as his favorite people. He had a few toys that he cherished, never ripping them up, just carrying them with him from room to room and whining a bit, unsure of where he could store them for safekeeping. Apart from some separation anxiety issues and an occasional urge to bolt out the door and book it as far as he could, CB was by all accounts an easy first dog: more like a low-effort cat than anything else.

Slowly Falling Apart

Over time, the health issues increased. Intermittent but predictably regular upset tummy. Bad gums, bad teeth. Random gooey skin lesion. Eye ulcers. Since October, we've been averaging 2-3 unplanned vet visits a month — many incurring some hefty bills. We'd take out another credit card, find another financing plan, but it adds up. So does the emotional toil on the family; so does the anxiety toll on the dog.

You start to think about quality of life for the dog, you know? He'd had a few teeth removed to sew up his gums after they kinda detached and fell apart from his jawbone — so he couldn't chew anything hard. Couldn't even chew a tennis ball, which was the only toy he took interest in anymore. Couldn't have any fun treats like peanut butter or other soft chews, as his tummy would have bad flare-ups that usually ended up with him attached to an IV bag. After finally settling in and learning to play well with Atlas, Charlie Brown started to get pretty irritable whenever Atlas got frisky.

He still loved running around outdoors, and was in otherwise great health.

I can't tell you how guilty that makes me feel, even now.

Moving to Waltham

Before we left Orlando, there were so many crisis moments in emergency vet offices where Niko and I talked about how long he could ride this roller coaster. CB obviously was not a fan of vet visits: loved the staff, but was notably anxious and panicky when separated from us, and he had grown very loathe to the process of poking, prodding, and whatnot.

Shortly after moving to Waltham (he was a champ in the U-Haul), Charlie Brown had a severe colitis flare-up. He was losing so much fluid and was growing very lethargic over the day. Vets are hard to get into these days: with the sweep of "pandemic puppy" adoptions, the vet industry as a whole is saturated with demand, and practices are responding as best they can. There were just no emergency clinics available to us within 20 miles, except one that noted "we have no availability, but you can come and wait, and we might be able to see you in 4 or 5 hours." So we did.

It was a very late night. Charlie Brown came home with us with another round of the same antibiotics he'd been taking almost regularly since December for his assorted ailments, and some probiotics. The next day, CB seemed a bit better and brighter, and Niko and I went into the city for part of the day. We came home to find he'd had an accident, but it was just... blood. So so much. And he looked so in pain, so ashamed, so guilty, so anxious.

So we went back to the vet ER. It was another very late night. I didn't know how many of these late nights we could afford; neither of us knew how many of these late nights it was fair to expect Charlie Brown to endure.

Do you plan on letting a pet go after an extended crisis visit? Do you plan on letting a pet go in a time of relative peace?

Camping Analogy, and a Best Last Day

When you're off on a long hike, and you see daylight start to fade as the sun begins to set, you begin to think about finding a good place to set up camp for the night. It's abysmal to do this after the sun has already gone down: where you could have had preparation and structure, you have chaos by flashlight.

A dog's life is in your hands. You're his whole world: all food, adventure, pampering, challenge, treatment, and care come from you. More than anything, we wanted Charlie Brown to have a peaceful, restful life. Now that we started thinking about it, we wanted to be able to give him a peaceful, restful passing as well: not as the climax of another overnight crisis with injections and yelps and beeps and cowering and anxiety and fear, but in the still quiet of familiar sounds and smells.

His very last day was a great one. Fresh Pond in Cambridge: a massive stroll around a colossal lake with an absurd bounty of new smells, kind people, happy dogs, and a brisk New England breeze. He got to swim in a little side pond — that boy lived for jumping into random lakes. He ran around the broad field that is Kingsley Bowl, chasing a thrown ball the very very farthest his sad pop could throw it — and he brought it back. We bought him a steak. We told him how much he brought to our lives.

And then we waited.

Lap of Love is a sort of home delivery service of dignified passing for pets. There's more to say on that hour than I care to pen, but throughout the procedure, we never left him. Charlie Brown passed enveloped in our arms and laps and sobs and hugs.

The Day After, and the Day After That

The rest is just thoughts. Your head starts to feel like a coffee shop where your grief comes in, sits at a table with you, and unloads. You nod, listen, and wish them well. I hope I can keep processing this way — I find it helpful, and less overwhelming.

I wish he had been able to play with his tennis ball more. Since his jaw surgery — even out on Kingsley Bowl, nearly a month and a half after he should have been fully healed — any kind of chewing would cause renewed bleeding and pain.

I wish we had hugged him more. But truth be told, he didn't like hugs. They made him uncomfortable. So we gave him a hand to lay his head on, or a knee for him to pop his head upon, as often as he liked.

There were so many times I felt inconvenienced by owning a dog at all. They weren't the majority, but... now each remembered time feels like a splinter of selfishness.

I miss how familiar the back of his neck felt under my hand, just behind the ears, where the waves of fur meet and crash and make a long cowlick of foof and fluff.

His happy smile and his stressed smile were very similar, but you could still tell which was which.

I loved being there for him in thunderstorms.

When you think about it, we sort of were hospice care for him. We weren't his original owners; we just wanted the rest of his life to be painless and fulfilling. He had so many trust issues when he first came to us. And in the end, he loved anyone he met.

I miss feeling around with my feet to make sure I don't step on him on my way to bed. I miss setting my feet on the floor as I wake, stooping down, and giving his head a good squishy rub.

He never did get to see Boston snow. I mean... thousands of dogs never get to see snow. But I was really looking forward to sharing that experience with him.

I wanted so badly to bring him to a point of health, and then say goodbye when he was feeling well. Seeing him have his Best Last Day, part of me whispered "murderer" with cold accuracy, and I have a hard time shaking it. He was so happy — but between jaw bleeding after playing with a tennis ball, seeing him scratch his eyes that were starting to ache with ulcers again... I know the unbridled happiness came with the reality of his declining health.

Atlas was the best thing that ever happened to that boy. I know Charlie Brown was at least a little disgruntled that his easy-going day-to-day had been interrupted by a chompy puppy, but Atlas brought out the young pup in CB: ripping palm fronds to shreds, playing tug, playing tag, meeting new dogs with confidence and assurance.

I used to get so mad at my mother-in-law for feeding Charlie Brown cinnamon donuts. I wish I'd given him more. Heck, I wish I'd given him more peanut butter. I'm frankly surprised he hadn't died of peanut butter overdose years ago.

Where Charlie's health had limits, we kept going with Atlas. That might mean taking Atlas out to play with a ball or a tug toy, because CB couldn't. It breaks my heart now to think of Charlie at the glass door just watching it happen, all because he physically couldn't play the same. I know he didn't understand that.

We took him out to Park Ave maybe once or twice. I wish it had been more. Truth be told, it was the same as the dog park, though: he was kind of a loner. Loads of people or dogs made him anxious. So while I might idealize the past and wish he had sat at our legs for lunch after lunch at an outdoor thoroughfare, ... I think he would have been miserable. I think he would have rather just curled up at the base of the couch and dozed while we watched a show.

He was so trusting. I could just drag him onto his back and onto my lap for cuddles and a good tummy rub. No complaints.

He looked so gaunt these past few months. I keep looking at earlier photos, and I really didn't realize just how grizzly and drawn he had become lately.

I miss seeing him randomly waiting for me outside the bathroom door — or curled up on the bath mat while I was in the shower, having sneakily nosed the door open and wanting my company while I was rinsing.

For his first few years with us, he was incredibly playful. I've been going through old videos — it's like going outside just blew his mind, and toys were either for cherishing daintily, or thrashing about and throwing to oneself and gnawing. He lost that after a time. He regained it a bit when Atlas joined the party. But it still faded. I'm sure that's inevitable, but it makes me sad to see the early vibrant puppy in those old recordings, and how different he had been in recent months.

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s-mething-mbti · 4 years ago

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Hiya! I just discovered your blog and was wondering if you could help try to type me (sorry this is pretty long)

1. I’m currently pretty torn between the intuitive introverts. I was able to narrow it down to INTJ, INFJ or INTP. I’m about 97.2% sure I use Ni. The only thing that’s giving me a bit of doubt is I find myself occasionally learning for the sake of learning which I’ve found is a traditionally Ne trait. Despite this I’m still pretty sure I use Ni as when I go down a rabbit hole and start learning for the sake of learning its always about a topic that interests me or is entertaining. I won’t waste my time learning about something I find mundane or drab. I resonate a lot with Ni’s “aha” moments where the correct answer simply pops into my head or a vision suddenly seems clear or a plot holes solution suddenly seems painstakingly obvious. I also resonate with starting out with a broader range of information/ possibilities and narrowing it down to one or two things. Another intuitive thing I highly relate to is living in the future. If almost never living in the present, and a constantly fixate on the future. I have a distinct, clear, and well thought out plan for the next 20 years (give or take).

Where I run into a bit of trouble is when I try to figure out which judging functions I predominantly use. It honestly feels like I use them all (though I know you’re only supposed to be able to use two well). For example I plan out everything, and set deadlines for myself. My desk often seems really messy to others especially when I’m doing art. This isn’t because I don’t value cleanliness, but because it simply makes more sense to keep all my art supplies out rather than having to spend at least fifteen minutes taking them out and then putting them away only to take them right back out the next day. I set goals based off of easily measurable, external things such as time, or grades. I make daily to do lists that outline everything I’ll need to do in the day, and some stuff to focus on if I have extra time. With my to do list I also plan out the approximate time each thing should take. When coming up with a scientific theory, I take others opinions/theories and test them against each other, and current scientific laws in order to formulate the most probable theory. External opinions (in a scientific/ logical manner) mean a lot to me (I don’t really care about how people that aren’t my friends think of me). To me these things seem very Te. But then I’m always smiling and am a fairly warm person. I want my friends to be happy, and I want to help others. I despise emotionally driven conflict(though I love debates), and while I’m not afraid to disrupt it if it threatens my morals/ is promoting something blatantly wrong (factually or morally) I do really harmony. These seem like pretty Fe things to me. As for Fi, I rarely share my negative emotions, preferring to deal with them predominantly alone. While I may not talk about them much I also have EXTREMELY strong morals. If something is crossing them I’m not going to simply ignore it for the sake of harmony. While I tend to be private I do try to be as authentic as possible. My morals are derived by information I’ve collected and decisions I’ve made myself, rather than being derived by ‘the groups’ collective morals if that makes sense. To me these things appear to be very Fi. As for Ti, sometimes I enjoy learning simply for the sake of learning. The knowledge may have no practical use to me but if I find it interesting or want to learn about it I can devote hours to it. I try and come to the most logical/accurate conclusion possible, and when I’m offering advice I may offer additional advice that takes different variables into account. The truth is really important to me as well.

2. Reading. I absolutely ADORE reading(specifically fantasy/sci-fi/dystopian books or research/scientific articles about topics that interest me). For reference there was a period of time when I had some free time and I was reading 2 or 3 books a day? Read maybe 50 books in the span of 20 days? But yeah I absolutely love reading. Just he way the book sucks you in and deposits you and a completely new world full of wonder and disaster and ugh it’s just magnificent. And don’t even get me started on impeccable character development and eeee. The way rereading a book feels like you’re reconnecting with an old best friend or going back to your childhood home and *sobs*. I also LOVE trying to predict plot twists and character deaths. Most of the time I can predict things correctly and idk it’s really fun to just try and figure out what’s going to happen before the big reveal. And the rush of satisfaction you get when you’ve guessed something right- it also helps me brace for character deaths (sorta. For example I knew *the* death in the final empire [by Brandon Sanderson] was coming since nearly the very beginning [I had my suspicions since the moment vin was introduced] but I still sobbed when the character died. [a tad off topic but what caused me to cry wasn’t the death itself but another characters reaction to it. This is often the case I find. A death of a character I love leaves me feeling empty but what typically gets me to cry is the others reactions- for thus reason funerals usually make me cry. I should also add that I only cry when I’m alone. I’ve cried around people (that aren’t my parents) a grand total of 1 time.]

Uh and daydreaming. I’m almost always daydreaming. Ie. if my brain was a search engine or whatever one tab would be reality and I would consecutively have at lest 20 other tabs open. Some of then playing videos (daydreams) others supplying music(if I’m not actively listening to real music my brain cycles through songs I have memorized. Occasionally does this with book scenes too if I’m bored [yes, I memorize some of my favourite scenes, word for word, so I can play them like a movie in my head when I, bored) others containing random info (just me thinking random stuff) etc.

3. I guess how to solve some problems? Wether it’s a math or science problem, or an argument between friends, figuring out how to solve things has always been something I’m decently good at. Math and science just. Make sense. And then with issues between people I’m good at looking at different perspectives (even ones that I don’t agree with) and playing out different scenarios/ possible outcomes of different approaches. This lets me come up with a solution that will successfully solve the problem with the least amount of negative ramifications involved

4. Hmm maybe being present? I honestly feel like life is passing me by and I’m just immobilized on the sidelines. Im so far into the future that I kinda forget to actually *live* every once in a while.

5. Honesty? Truth? Morals? These topics are all really interesting as they can be kinda subjective. The line between honesty and cruelty is so small. What is truth? Cause while yes, we have some set truths (such as the earth is orbiting the sun) so many ‘truths’ are simply subjective and completely depend on ones perspective. And morals my goodness. The stormlight archive is a really fun series that plays around with things like what is justice? And honour? I won’t get into it now but it brings up so many really interesting questions regarding morals.

6. Perspective . I think perspective is such a fascinating thing. Just. Different opinions. Seeing the world through completely different lenses. Interpreting the same thing in utterly different ways. When toying around with an idea I find it really fun to try and imagine opposing perspectives. While I can find different perspectives really interesting, they can also well... get on my nerves to say the least. Sometimes someone perspective is just? So blatantly wrong? And has absolutely no factual evidence backing it up? And part of me wants to just just scream and it would be so much easier if everyone just. Assessed the facts in front of them instead of making wild accusations or whatever without anything to support them. But yeah overall I think perspectives are really cool and they’re part of what helps to make the world diverse and life so much less interesting without different perspectives.

The future. I’ve found a bunch of my friends find thinking about the future stressful but if I’m being honest I find solace in thinking about the future. Having things planned out and knowing what I intend to do/ where I want to go takes off so much stress. I lowkey live in the future and I honestly cannot wait till it comes, and I achieve my goals. While I might be a bit scared the future excites me so much more than it’ll ever scare me.

7. Maybe add some more stuff about the judging functions and feelings and thinking etc . I absolutely adore science and math. I literally do math for fun. I’m currently aiming to get my PhD in astrophysics.

Not sure if this is relevant at all but my biggest (harmless) pet peeves are my grandmother’s door stopper (it always gets stuck in the door and then u can’t get it out and the door won’t close properly- I have an unhealthy amount of hatred for that thing AHAHJSEJKSMDJDJDJJ) and when people say some variant of “you did good”. Like nO NO YOU DID NOT DO gOoD. YOU DID W E L L (Anyways theres my little mini rant).

I’m my friend groups therapist (sorta). While I’m really not good with words and recycle the same three responses I always let everyone know that I’m here for them and they can talk to me without judgement etc. While I really don’t know what to say or do I try my best because I care about my friends and want to help them. I love them and so I want them to be able to be happy. Im always smiling (though this is more so because people don’t ask me how I’m doing when I look happy than because I’m genuinely happy. Most of the time I’m he farthest thing from that). I’m a pretty warm person who’s always happy to help, however I’m very introverted. I haven’t had a single conversation with the majority of people in my class (I’ve had a convo with maybe 5. Talk to 2 regularly. There are 26 people in my class). I never express negative emotions (with the exception of stress- I panic intensely in the 5 minutes immediately before taking a test as this helps me to completely turn off my nerves while I’m writing the exam. I may also make a joke or two about my negative emotions with close friends). I should also add that when making decisions I value logic more and think thinks through thoroughly, examining the pros and cons etc. While I take feelings and emotions into consideration when making decisions they’re more like an additional variable to consider rather than the main driving force that determines my decision. If I’m feeling really emotional and I need to make a decision I will postpone deciding until I feel more levelheaded. I’m really not impulsive in the slightest.

Thank you so much!!

INTJ

Living in the future rather than the present and your comfort in that sapce, your ability for and enjoyment of making predictions, your ability to really understand and try on different perspectives you don’t necessarily agree with, your focus on “ramifications” (aka future implications) while problem solving - this all points to high Ni.

You also show a Te preference - goals based on external metrics, to-do lists for daily tasks, logic based on the outer world (external opinion). When you said “While I take feelings and emotions into consideration when making decisions they’re more like an additional variable to consider rather than the main driving force that determines my decision” - that is a clear cut definition of Te over Fe preference.

Your tertiary Fi shows through here as well - willing to disrupt harmony if it upsets your morals, your morals being personally derived, needing to understand your emotions while alone. And lastly, your statement about “forgetting to live” from being in the future is pretty textbook inferior Se.

#ask #type me #intj #mbti #myers-briggs #Anonymous

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flutistbyday-1 · 4 years ago

Text

John Deere Green: Chapter 11

Soooooo uhhhh don’t hate me—

I’m so sorry that this took so long. If you don’t know, I took a spill in April that made me bed-bound for six weeks and my mental health took a nosedive. I’m trying to get better, and part of that is writing.

Unbeta’d cause 🤷🏼‍♀️

Word count: 1539. Short! I know.

Riley’s heart began to pound as she pulled up to Liam’s house. Her heart ached. She felt bad for how she acted around Drake. It wasn’t fair to anyone, especially Liam.

Liam was at the top of the porch stairs when she pulled into his drive. She could see the concern on his face.

Riley parked in her usual spot and waited for Liam. He opened her door and immediately pulled her into a hug.

Riley inhaled his cologne and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“Are you okay?” Liam whispered. “You worried me.”

“Much better now that you’re in my sights,” Riley said as she backed away from Liam. She nodded her head at her car. “Grabbed you a burger.”

“You are a gift from heaven,” Liam gushed as he swooped into Riley’s car.

Riley laughed. “Come on. Let’s go eat and I can tell you all about that text.”

“So what’s up, Riley?” Liam asked before he shoved more fries into his mouth.

Riley chuckled at him but sighed deeply. Tears stung her eyes. The guilt was eating her alive. “Well, as you know, Drake and I have gotten close lately.”

Liam nodded.

“Last week, I found him in the drive after he’d had a long day and we went to a bar. We played a drinking game, and I got drunk. One thing led to another, and... I kissed Drake.” Guilt was eating Riley alive. She was crying as she spoke. “I’m so, so sorry, Liam. I don’t know why I did it, but it felt right until Drake looked at me. I feel so bad,” she rambled. She was looking down at her hands that were tangled in her lap.

She and Liam sat face-to-face on his bed. He was quiet while Riley talked.

Liam thoughtfully wiped the grease off his hands before putting one under Riley’s chin and lifting her face. “I know, Riley. Drake told me the next day. He said it was all him and not to be mad at you.” He smiled sadly. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Riley’s lower lip quivered. “You knew? You aren’t mad?”

Liam moved the food and trash onto his nightstand before taking Riley into his arms. He pulled her onto his lap. “Darling, you have gone from a long-term relationship in New York to an engagement that is short for established couples. You’re allowed to feel dazed. You’re allowed to mess up.” Liam pulled Riley close to him. “I don’t care as long as you don’t do it again.”

Riley nodded and snuggled into the crook of Liam’s neck. “I won’t kiss anyone but you. Promise,” she giggled.

“Good,” Liam said as he looked down at his fiancée. “Love you,” he smiled.

“Love you too,” Riley said as she leaned in to kiss Liam.

Riley snuggled into Liam, all thought of food behind him. He wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“Are you ready for next week?” he asked.

Riley nodded. “Yeah. I feel like I’ve known you forever and this was just meant to happen.” She smiled dreamily. “You’re my own Prince Charming,” she giggled.

Liam acted offended. “If anything, I’m a King.”

This sent Riley into a fit of laughter.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about their wedding, their families, and their future. When Riley left that night, she was more than confident that Liam would never hold that kiss against her and that she was, indeed, marrying the right man.

Liam had bought Riley a 60-acre property on which a gorgeous two-story Victorian-style farmhouse set, draped with a wrap-around. There was a small “in-law” house behind the main house, a swimming pool, a barn, a greenhouse, several flower gardens, and land that had already been tilled for farming.

Liam surprised Riley with pictures of the house and property the night after she confessed her sins of kissing Drake, and she had tears of joy in her eyes as Liam scrolled through his phone.

“It’s more than perfect, Liam,” she sighed as she leaned into him.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responded.

Riley’s bridal shower was on a Wednesday— who would have thought that her social status as Liam’s fiancé meant that she could reserve a fancy hotel on a Wednesday and people would show up?— and almost one hundred women were in attendance. On a Wednesday!

Riley only recognized a handful of the women at her party: her bridesmaids and some of Liam’s friends.

Kiara was dutifully making rounds and introducing Riley to women of her status or just below, in Kiara’s words. You don’t need to know everyone’s names, Riley. Just the ones who will help you find charities.

Riley desperately tried to hold onto reality, but it was hard when one didn’t feel like they belonged. I’m just a waitress from New York, Riley whined to Hana. A waitress who fell for one of the most eligible bachelors in America, Hana had retorted. Riley sent death glares to Hana as she danced away, claiming to do some maid-of-honor duty or something like that.

Riley was glad to see that Madeleine was in attendance— she’d grown close with the woman. She wasn’t nearly as bitchy as some had claimed, and honestly, with the way Leo broke her heart, Riley didn’t blame Maddy one bit.

Madeleine smiled at Riley from across the room, a “come save me from this person” smile, and Riley was more than happy to cooperate.

Riley walked to Madeleine and made a noise of distress, clutching to Madeleine’s arm. “Madeline, my florist just called and said that the roses for my attendants will be more pink than red!” Riley made her voice waiver for dramatic effect, and the woman Madeleine was speaking with let out an honest gasp.

“How horrible!” The woman gasped.

Maddy nodded solemnly. “I’ll call them at once, Riley!”

Madeleine walked away like she had a purpose and Riley looked at the woman. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, you know how us brides can be.”

The woman clasped Riley’s hands. “To a bride, every detail is important. You go fix your flower fiasco, Riley.” The woman nodded in affirmation and Riley nodded back.

“Thank you,” Riley said.

Truth be told, she didn’t even know what colors her flowers would be, or even what kind. Hana and her mother had planned every detail. Riley had given them an idea of what she wanted and found her dream dress. The rest was on the Dream Team, Riley called them.

Riley’s bachelorette party was okay— Riley wasn’t a fan of the party scene.

Hana had ordered the bridal party to bar-hopping, and everyone was buying shots for Riley. Thankfully, most of the patrons were too drunk to notice that the shots the bartenders were pouring were water instead of vodka.

It was nearly two AM when Riley broke down and called her fiancé. She wasn’t drunk by any means, thank you very much, but she had just enough of a buzz to miss Liam.

Riley stumbled out of the bar and plopped on the curb before calling Liam.

He answered quickly. “Riley? Love? Are you okay?”

Riley giggled. “I’m fiiiiiiiine, Liam. Just bored.”

Liam could hear the pout in Riley’s voice. “Isn’t Hana keeping you company?”

Riley snorted. “Hana is playing tonsil hockey with some stranger.” She gagged.

Liam laughed. “How drunk is she?”

Riley whined. “Stop talking about Hana and talk about me!”

This earned another laugh from Liam. “Okay, what about you?”

“Well, for one, I miss you. And, two,” Riley said, but didn’t continue.

“And, two?” Liam prompted.

“I don’t know. I forgot. Come get me,” Riley said pitifully.

“Where are you?”

Riley craned her neck to see the sign of the bar. “Kismet.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

It was the night before the wedding. All of Riley’s things had been moved to her future in-law’s house— they’d stay in the big house until a property had been established for them in a small town just south of Cordonia, Valtoria.

It was just a 15-minute drive from the Rhys homestead, close enough for Liam’s parents to rely on him, but far enough for the couple to find independence.

Riley paced in Hana’s front room. It was well past 11 and Riley should be asleep, but she was just so damn nervous.

Things had been going well with her life. Too well.

Riley was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Riley,” Hana murmured. “I promise everything is going to be okay.”

The knot in Riley’s gut tightened as she shook her head.

Riley pulled out her phone and glanced at the notification bar. She could just call Liam as he said, but he’d probably be asleep by now and—

Her spiraling was stopped by a sharp knock, knock, knock at the door.

Riley’s eyes snapped to Hana.

Hana shrugged. “It’s probably Liam checking on you.”

Riley didn’t consider who else it could be until she had flung the door open, a stupid grin on her face.

The grin fell when she saw who it was.

“Hello, Riley. I think it’s time we talk,” Justin said as he pulled Riley into his arms for a crushing embrace.

***********************

PERMA

@kingliam2019

@glaimtruelovealways

@drakewalker04

@kimmiedoo5

@imthequeenofcordonia

@texaskitten30

@dcbbw

@cordonia-gothqueen

@custaroonie

@shz256

@hopefulmoonobject

@sanchita012

@bebepac

@ac27dj

@we-lazystudent

@losingbraincellseveryday

@mom2000aggie

@ravenpuff02

JOHN DEERE GREEN

@my0123456789universe

@maxwellisangry

@princessleac1

@queenwalton

@d0nuts-c0ff33

@marietrinmimi

@camersworld

@cordonianroyalty

@wesludgefactoryaic

@thedoublemajor-blog

@theeccentricbibliophile

@drakewalker04

@cordonianroyalty

@bloodboundchoices

@axwalker

@patriciaanchrist2019

@gardeningourmet

@euvickmarketing

@theroyalromanceforever

@kate-mckenzie

@the-food-hole

@axwalker

@bloodboundchoices

#trr riley brooks #the royal romance #pixelberry #riley brooks #trr liam rys #trr mc x liam #trr drake walker #trr liam #choices #trr #trr au fanfic #trr john deere green #flutistbyday writes #flutistbyday john deere green #jdg #trr riley x liam

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horansqueen · 5 years ago

Text

You & Me : chapter 12

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.9k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: i hope it sorta hit a bit? does it sting? it had to happen sorry! i cant wait to write the next chapter 😭

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : i didnt add the “never have i ever” suggestions that i used but THANK YOU if you sent some, i used a few! also, i had other requests and ideas from people and i may use them a bit later, in a future chapter. actually i know when ill use them lol youll see :)

Chapter 12 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

"Shit, I don't know what to wear!" I exclaimed to myself as i put clothes in front of me, standing next to to mirror. "Horrible."

I threw the shirt away, aiming for the bed but it fell next to it and I didn't even send it a glance as I took an other one.placing it on my chest and tilting my head at my reflection. I glanced up when I saw Louis walk by and stop immediately, holding himself on the door frame with a smirk.

"Put a skirt on." he let out, making me raise my eyebrows. "It'll be easier for him to fuck you against the wall."

My eyes got smaller and I reached out for my tissue box before throwing it his way. He moved right on time and it hit the wall in a thug, making him laugh.

"Don't be so violent!" he smirked, walking in my room and leaning on the wall. "I'm just saying out loud what you think about late at night, if you know what I mean."

I turned to him, opening my eyes wide and shaking my head. I couldn't believe Louis was talking about me masturbating to the thought of my ex boyfriend like it was nothing.

"Oh my god, shut up!" I let out with a chuckle. "You're so annoying!"

"Look, I woke up and he was getting out of your room." Louis pointed out. "He spent the night with you. In your bed. Wearing nothing but BOXERS!"

"We just slept." I argued with a shrug, trying not to show him that the thought of Niall almost naked in bed with me was actually doing something to me. "I was sick, remember?"

"Yea, you were 'sick'" he repeated, pronouncing the last word louder and adding fake quotation marks with his fingers.

"I was! A few of your sushis weren't good, Lou." I explained, throwing an other shirt away and grabbing a new pair of jeans. "You know it's true, I heard you vomit in the middle of the night, too."

"That's not the point." he explained, getting suddenly a lot more serious than he normally is. "Olivia, you should break up with Dylan." I stopped dead in my track and even stopped breathing. My heart, though, was beating extremely hard against my rib cage and it's all I could hear. "Did you even think about him recently? He's not here and you don't even seem to miss him, especially not when Niall is around."

I did think about Dylan, though, but I didn't talk about my thoughts, mostly because I felt fucking guilty about almost everything that came to my mind. I felt like shit towards my boyfriend but I didn't have the guts to tell him that I was getting closer and closer to Niall. I didn't know how to tell him that spending time with Niall had been some sort of relief in my life, that being able to be around Niall again was making me generally happier, that when I was near him, I felt more alive. There was no good way to tell that to the man you were about to marry, not without hurting him.

"I love Dylan and I miss him, you know that damn well, Louis." I argued, feeling tears coming to my eyes. "But Niall is... Niall is Niall. Niall is the love of my life."

Louis uncrossed his arms and walked closer as I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to face reality at all. I wanted to spend time with Niall and pretend I would be able to resist him the next time he'd try to kiss me. I wanted to pretend that I was going totally okay with watching Niall and Heidi get married and have kids at some point in the future while i'd do the same with Dylan. I wanted to believe I didn't have to break an incredible man’s heart because of my own disgusting selfishness... that everything was fine and that what was happening between Niall and I was perfectly normal.

"I know he is." Louis said gently, placing his hands on my upper arms from behind. "I see you two interact and it's so obvious, Olivia. The way you two connect it's... it's probably terrifying for Dylan and Heidi, you know?"

I opened my eyes and sniffed before swallowing the lump in my throat. I was not going to cry. There was no fucking way I was going to cry now and ruin my make up. We didn't connect, and we wouldn't connect on that night, I was going to make sure of it.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay. I'll prove to you and everyone else that Niall and I are only friends, you'll see."

I was mostly trying to convince myself of that but I just reached out to my wardrobe and grabbed a skirt, like Louis had proposed. I was going to have fun tonight and nothing else.

"Liv, don't be like that."

I turned to Louis and shook my head slightly.

"I'm not losing Dylan, okay? I can't. Do you know what are the chances for me to find an other man like him? Kind, sweet, smart, funny and who truly loves me? I've risked my relationship enough, don't you think?"

"So last night, when Niall joined you in your bed, you didn't feel anything?" he asked a bit harshly, raising his eyebrows at me. "I saw him take care of you when you were puking your guts out, you know?"

"You don't base a romantic relationship on lust, Louis. You should know that." I shook my head, searching my drawers for a shirt. "Niall always took care of me, since we were kids. It's nothing new. And it means nothing."

Louis stayed there, motionless and quiet as I picked my clothes and when he realized I wouldn't look at him again, he sighed.

"We're leaving in 10 minutes." he turned around and walked to the door as I swallowed my tears again. "And Liv? I love you. I want what's best for you. My opinion is just that, an opinion but... I don't think you'll ever be happy if you're not with Niall. I don't think he'll ever be happy without you either."

---

The bar was crowded but we reached a quiet spot on the second floor, in the back of the room. Everyone was arrived and I couldn't stop glancing at Niall, who ended up sitting next to me. Now that he was close, all the bullshit I had told Louis earlier didn't seem so important anymore. Nothing ever seemed more important than Niall, and it was a problem.

Louis came back with a pitcher and sat on the other side of me with Eleanor while Harry, Liam and Julie sat on the other side of the table. I didn't know where Harry's girlfriend was, or if he even was with her anymore. We had told each other we would remain friends but things change and we drifted apart. I sighed low, a bit nostalgic of that friendship before we all started drinking. I was getting drunk and from the way Niall's eyes sparkled, I felt like he was getting there, too. Or maybe it was just that I was so drunk I was starting to imagine things.

I could feel the skin of his arm brush against mine and I cleared my throat, trying to stop thinking about it before turning around to send him a smile.

"So where's your girlfriend?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Oh she'll be here soon."

I didn't expect this answer and raised my eyebrows as my lips parted. I didn't want to see her, and it was not only because we didn't get along. Most of all, I didn't want to see her all over Niall the way she had been when they invited us for dinner. Why was I so ready to prove everyone that I was able to resist my ex boyfriend but as soon as he was near, I couldn't handle myself?

"Okay, let's play a game!" Liam said, tapping the table a few times with his palm. "Truth or Dare?"

"No no, 'never have I ever'!" Louis argued, making me raise my nose up in a grimace.

These games never ended well, at least most of the time, except that one time where I decided to just kiss Harry, but a few minutes later, Niall had kissed a girl too and that was not a good ending, at least not to me.

"Okay, I found questions online!" Eleanor let out with a chuckle. "If you've done it, you take a sip, and no one lies!"

"Yea, I'll call you out if I see one of you lie!" Louis agreed, making my heart skip a beat.

I was screwed.

"Never have I ever... drunk-dialed an ex!"

I held my breath and started nibbling on my bottom lip. So many times, I had wanted to call Niall when I was drunk but every time, Louis was there to snatch the phone out of my hands. I glanced when I saw Niall drink and I wondered who he had tried to call. I had never received a phone call or a text message from him after we broke up, so I knew it was not me, and somehow, it made me jealous. He missed an ex so much that he called her... did that mean he never really missed me?

"Never have I ever... stolen someone's food!"

"Louis! You drink!" I let out, my eyebrows raised. "You always eat all my fucking left-overs!"

"What? Nah."

"He does!" Eleanor agreed with me with a chuckle, hitting him gently with her elbow.

He groaned but finally took a long sip of his beer, making me smile more.

"Okay, never have I ever... called a partner the wrong name during sex!"

I chuckled but felt my heart jump in my chest when I noticed Niall taking a long sip of his drink. We all looked at him and started laughing and he simply shrugged.

"I was drunk, I didn't know the girl's name!" he argued, laughing too.

I let my eyes roam on his face, wondering who exactly was that girl and if she had been someone he had sex with after he left me but I didn't dare to ask.

"Never have I ever.... lied to a law enforcement officer."

I laughed when I saw Louis drink and Liam started laughing, his eyebrows raised.

"Wait what? What was the lie?" he asked curiously, leaning slightly against the table.

"He lied to get out of a ticket." I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Why? Because he was going too slow?"

Everyone started laughing and Louis grimaced before flipping Liam off, making everyone laugh even more. I leaned closer to Louis and kissed his cheek gently before he wiped my kiss vigorously from his skin.

"Traitor!" he whispered as I chuckled, blowing him an other kiss.

"Never have I ever... sent nudes."

Without thinking, my eyes found Harry immediately and his did too. We stared at each other for a few seconds before our lips curled. I grabbed my drink and took a sip as he did the same, just like Julie, Liam and Louis.

"Did you send nudes to your boyfriend or your ex boyfriend, Olivia?"

I sent a mean glance at Louis and he smirked, making me know he was getting back at me for the last question.

"One time, Harry, Niall and I played 'truth or dare' and Harry asked me if I had ever taken nudes. I guess we continued that conversation a bit later and.. shared.. selfies..."

Louis' eyes got bigger and he pressed his lips together, knowing he had made things a bit awkward but finding it funny anyway. I glanced at Niall, noticing he was staring at me, and finally cleared my throat, asking El for the next question.

"Never have I ever.... hooked up with someone of the same sex or gender."

My eyes once again found Harry. I knew we were pretty much the only one who didn't want to label ourselves around the table and I brought my drink closer to him. He smiled and clinked his glass against mine before we both took a sip.

"You guys have no idea what you're missing." he let out after swallowing, making us laugh.

"Oh my god, Liv, you're gonna love this one. Never have I ever had food poisoning."

I laughed and took a sip, pushing the side of my body against Louis'. He groaned and took a sip and when I turned around, I noticed Niall frowned. I moved closer, holding my breath to make sure I wouldn't smell his incredible scent, and smiled a bit.

"Last night, Louis got sick because of his sushis, too."

I saw an emotion pass on Niall's face and his lips finally curled before he chuckled. Was that relief? I nibbled on my bottom lip when I remembered what he had asked me in the middle of the night and the right corner of my lips raised. I didn't know why he didn't want me to be pregnant with Dylan's baby but I liked it.

"Never have I ever been the subject of a rumor that wasn’t true." Eleanor read with a big smile. "Oh god, I think we can all drink!"

We all laughed and ended up finishing our glasses, handing each other the pitchers to fill them back again. I almost choked on the sip I was taking when Heidi arrived and she quickly sat next to Niall, making something stir in my stomach. I closed my eyes tight when she kissed him and I felt Louis' hand on my arm.

"It's okay to be hurt, love." he whispered. "If it matters, she's got nothing on you. She's also doing that to get to you."

I breathed in and out slowly before opening my eyes again. I noticed Heidi looking at me and sending me a sly smile that really bothered me.

"I'll get shots!"

Harry left with Liam and the whole time they were gone, I played with my fingers nervously. I felt like the whole evening was ruined because of her but I couldn't let that get to me, right? As soon as the guys put the shots in the middle of the table, I grabbed one and swallowed it quickly, followed by Louis.

"Wait, guys! This is for the game!" Harry explained. "And it's a surprise, you don't know what you drink!"

That's when I noticed the huge amount of shots on the table and raised my eyebrows just as Eleanor read the next question.

"Never have I ever... caught someone masturbating."

I held my breath and my eyes got bigger. I didn't want to turn to Niall but it was stronger than me. He was already looking at me and he chuckled.

"One time, when I was 13, Liv caught me masturbating. She just walked in my room without knocking!"

I smiled and pressed my lips together but my smile faltered when I realized he had no idea that I had caught him masturbating last time I actually slept at his place. The sight of him jerking off flashed in my mind and I gripped my glass tighter until I heard his voice again.

"Oh and remember at the lodge?" he asked with a smirk. "I came back in the room the first day we got there and-”

"Nooo! Shut up!"

I moved closer to him, trying to press my hand over his mouth but he dodged me and ended up just holding my wrist as he finished his sentence.

"And I caught Olivia masturbating in the dark, in our room!"

"Oh my god I hate you." I groaned, leaning my forehead on the table as I heard laughter. "That was a secret!"

"Was it though?" Niall asked, his lips dangerously close to my ear.

I held my breath and waited a few seconds to look up, noticing Louis had given a shot to Niall and was now handing me one. I drank it quickly, turning the glass around and putting it on the table. Tequila, ouch.

"Never have I ever... tried anal sex."

Once again, I closed my eyes and groaned, bringing one of my hands on my face as Niall laughed next to me. I was really going to get drunk. I reached for two shots and handed one to Niall who just chuckled and drank it fast. I did it took and raised my nose up. Sambuca. I hated that.

"Wow, who the hell are you?" Louis asked, raising his eyebrows while looking at me. "Little wild thing. Can't believe you let him!"

It was not my first time trying anal but I decided not to mention it. The truth was, when I was dating Niall, I would have done anything for him. There was no limit, as long as he stayed with me and was happy, it was all that mattered to me. I suddenly felt the urge to kiss him and held my breath as I stared at him. My heart was hitting so hard against my rib cage I thought it was just going to escape. Literally. It was ridiculous. I was not ready to do anything for anyone anymore, except myself. That's how things should be.

"Never have I ever... hooked up with an ex’s friend."

Once again, I knew I had to drink. Not everyone in the room knew that I had slept with Louis and I thought maybe it would be better if I didn't drink at all but the worst would be if I hesitated. If I just drank, they could believe it was an other ex than Niall but if I didn't seem sure, they'd know I was not at ease and it would be suspicious. I rolled my eyes, realizing I was going a bit too far in my thoughts and just grabbed an other shot, swallowing it quickly. I felt Louis' hand squeeze my thigh and my lips curled slightly. He knew and it was enough for me.

"Never have I ever... tried to make an ex jealous."

I sighed and took an other shot, shaking my head.

"We need to find questions that won't force me to get so drunk I won't be able to walk in half an hour!" I argued with a chuckle, watching as Niall grabbed a shot too.

I was starting to hate this game, if only for the fact that all I did was drink and check if Niall would drink too and if he did, I'd just spend a few minutes wondering who it was about and what exactly it meant. I glanced at Heidi, thinking she should probably drink but didn't and I rolled my eyes.

I never really had tried to make Niall jealous but I had hoped for it. I was not getting married to make him regret leaving me, but when I noticed his reaction when he found out and stormed out of the cafe, I couldn't pretend it didn't do anything to me. It did. I liked it. It gave me hope. Hope for what? I was not sure.

"Never have I ever... second-guessed a relationship."

I was getting pissed at myself for letting all his simple gestures and actions get to me. I loved him, I loved him so fucking bad it was driving me insane, but there was no way I was going back to being the 'no-back-bone-and-fucking-blind' girl I used to be when we were dating. I didn't want that. I reached for a shot and placed it in front of Niall a bit roughly, spilling a few drops of what I believed was rum, or at least, it smelled like it.

"Do you need only one?"

Somehow, everyone stopped talking and although I should feel guilty, I really couldn't. I was past the tipsy stage and a few memories were coming back to my mind. I also didn't enjoy Heidi's presence and the way she was so close to him. Niall looked down and licked his lips, waiting a few seconds before drinking the shot and pushing the glass away. Eleanor cleared her throat and I just shook my head with a sigh.

"Uhm, never have I ever cheated on a partner."

I closed my eyes again but this time for a complete different reason. I thought about the first time Niall touched me. I could almost still feel his fingertips brush on my skin before he had pushed them inside me. I can't remember being this excited ever in my whole life. This time, I didn't have to say anything. Niall just reached out to grab a shot and swallowed it.

"Not on Liv, right?"

Niall turned to Louis and shook his head.

"No. With her." My eyes moved to Heidi's hand who gripped Niall's arm tighter sinking her nails in his skin. I couldn't help but think she did that when they fucked, too. "It was back when I was with Maya."

I noticed Harry was looking at me with a frown and I just shook my head slightly, answering his silent question. He nodded and his lips curled a bit as I answered his smile. No, I had no cheated on Harry. I wouldn't have done that, not even for Niall... right?

"It was... unplanned." Niall added, making me press my lips together.

The memory was so vivid, probably due to the alcohol and mixed with the proximity of Niall's body, that I had to get up and go to the bathroom. As I got up, I realized how drunk I was and tried to walk straight. I didn't like to show I was drunk and I was not sure why but when I got out of the bathroom, Louis was leaning against the wall, waiting for me.

"El and I are leaving, we've got a brunch in her family tomorrow morning, so I'll sleep at her place." he explained with a frown. "Are you okay? We can give you a ride home if you want."

"No, thank you." I shook my head. "I'll just take a cab."

"No, no cab by yourself. One of those fuckers will bring you home when you'll be ready. I'll make sure of it. And if anything happens, you call me."

I nodded and he pulled me into a hug, making me close my eyes. I wanted to tell him that I missed him, and that I missed having sex with him, but it was a lie. What I actually missed was to be close to someone, and I sort of felt like I was losing him, somehow. Soon, we were not going to live together anymore and I had no idea if I was okay with that.

"Sorry for that game, although it went better than you thought, right?"

I chuckled and pulled away before nodding. He sent me a wink and told me goodnight and I watched him leave before sighing and walking back to the table with difficulty. Liam and Julie were getting up too and I frowned, tilting my head when I got closer.

"Are you guys leaving too?"

"Yea, we're both a bit tired." Julie explained.

They said their goodbyes to everyone and I ended up sitting next to Harry and in front of Niall. I watched as Heidi talked in his ear with a smirk and I glanced down to watch her arm disappear, realizing she probably had her hand on his thigh, or even somewhere else. I looked away and swallowed at the intense feeling of jealousy invading me.

"Oh, Olivia, I know you'll be alone tonight, would you rather sleep home?"

I frowned at Heidi, a bit surprised about her proposition and licked my lips, trying to find a reason why she would actually want me to be with both of them at his place. To show me he belonged to her, perhaps? To keep on being all over him in front of me?

"No it's okay, she can come home." Harry just said, getting up and grabbing his phone. "I'm alone tonight, too."

"It's cool, Harry. She'll sleep at mine." Niall quickly replied, getting up to. "Plus, it's closer."

They looked at each other and Harry finally sighed before bending down and whispering to me.

"Are you okay with that?" I just nodded and he did the same. "Okay, darling."

Heidi drove us back home since she had barely drank and I noticed Niall kept glancing at me in the mirror but I didn't acknowledge him. I knew he was a bit mad at me for some of the things I had said and if I wanted to be honest, I really thought I was over all of that, but the thought of him breaking my heart and not being sure of the relationship we had made something burn inside me... I was not mad. I was still hurt. I probably always would be.

Niall let me borrow a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt and none of us really talked at all. We just went to bed and before I knew it, I was laying on my back, under the covers, in the dark, just staring at the ceiling. Normally, I would have a conversation with Niall until we'd both fall asleep but that night, it was impossible. He was going to cuddle her all night, and not me. The thought made me swallow hard and I tried to keep my tears in. I was intoxicated and just closing my eyes made me dizzy.

That's when I heard it. It made my heart jump so hard in my chest I was near throwing up. A moan. Just a low moan disturbing the silence of the night and then, an other one. I got up slowly, my heart beating harder, making my whole body throb and when I opened the door, I held my breath. I stepped out of the room and It was clear, now. A bunch of moans reached my ears and I leaned my back against the wall, shutting my eyes tight.

"Oh, fuck, Niall!"

I felt tears invade my eyes and I let myself slide on the wall until my ass hit the floor. I heard noise, like the annoying sounds of a mattress moving, and I brought my hand to my mouth, trying to keep in the sobs that wanted to escape. This is exactly why Heidi wanted me to sleep at their place but the one I really blamed was Niall. How could he do that to me? Wasn't breaking my heart once enough? What the hell was he thinking?

I was sitting down alone in the hall, now as sober as possible in these circumstances, listening to my ex boyfriend, the man I was in love with, having sex with his girlfriend. It was so pathetic I didn't even take the time to wipe the tears that fell on my cheeks, I just accepted my fate, motionless, like it was something I actually deserved. I tried to think about my boyfriend, filming a movie in an other country, but it couldn't distract me from the noises coming from his room. All these images of Heidi riding him as he touched her and told her how much he loved her invaded my brain and I felt suddenly nauseous. It made me realize one thing. It was not so much that they had sex, that really bothered me, although it did hurt me to some extent. What was really hard to accept was that he may have feelings for her, stronger feelings than he had for me. I also couldn't really believe he cared so little about me that he'd literally do it while I was in the same house, in the room literally next to mine.

I cried more, feeling like this moment would never fucking end. It's only when I heard his voice for the first time that something inside me seemed to click. He had groaned and I hated it. It was a low and simple grunt but it made me want to literally die on the spot. I don't know where I found the strength but I quickly got up, walked back to the guest room and grabbed my purse before rushing to the front door and stepping out of the house into the dark night. The door closed roughly behind me and I realized they may have heard. I quickly left and ran across the street, my shoes hitting the ground being the only sound around. It was only when I was totally out of breath that I decided to call a cab. I just wanted to erase that whole evening from my mind. I just wanted to erase all my feelings and be happy again but I couldn't lie to myself. The only time I was truly happy was when I was with Niall... and that was over. There was no hope left inside me.

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #my fanfics #yam #i just want to write the next chapter tbqh #i just cant wait to write it!!!

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xhxhxhx · 4 years ago

Text

Saw something in the further reading section of Michael Kulikowski’s Imperial Tragedy (Profile, 2019) today:

There are countless books on the fall of the western Roman empire, and more appear annually, with variable scholarly trappings but nearly all quite conventional. Still, ripping yarns and neo-Victorian analyses can be found in any bookshop. So, for those so inclined, can thinly disguised nativist tracts on how immigration (and ‘immigrant violence’) brought down the empire. To name names would be invidious.

I thought this was a dig at Peter Heather, Professor of Medieval History at King’s College London and author of The Fall of the Roman Empire (Oxford, 2005) and Empires and Barbarians (Oxford, 2009), so I looked it up and discovered that not only was I right, but Kulikowski has serious beef with the guy:

Peter Heather has been fiercely criticized by members of the so-called Toronto School of History. Michael Kulikowski, who belongs to this group, has accused Heather of neo-romanticism and of wishing "to revive a biological approach to ethnicity". Kulikowski claims that Heather "manifests a clear methodological affinity" to the 19th-century writer of the Goths Henry Bradley.

But Kulikowki’s beef is nothing next to the righteous fury of Guy Halsall, Professor of History at the University of York:

Guy Halsall has identified Peter Heather as the leader of a "counter-revisionist offensive against more subtle ways of thinking" about the Migration Period. Halsall accuses this group, which is strongly associated with University of Oxford, of "bizarre reasoning" and of purveying a "deeply irresponsible history". Halsall writes that Heather and the Oxford historians have been responsible for "an academic counter-revolution" of wide importance, and accuses them of deliberately contributing to the rise of "far-right extremists".

Halsall got so mad at Heather, first at the 2011 Leeds International Medieval Conference and then online, at his blog, that he threatened to leave academia entirely:

Well, it's more or less a year since I started doing this blogging lark 'seriously' (the inverted commas are obviously necessary). And, as they say, what a roller-coaster of a year it's been. I've shut down the blog twice, brought it back twice, come to the verge of formal complaints being sent to my university twice (once justifiably, once most certainly not), lost at least one friend, lost 99% of the respect I had for someone I had hitherto held in high esteem, quite possibly lost the chance of a job I wanted because of this blog, taken some pretty visceral abuse, and so on. All good fun!

On the other hand I have learnt some lessons. One is that even bastards have feelings. Another is that if you have twenty-odd followers and maybe 100 hits a day, that (allowing for hits from people looking for something else, like Elizabeth Kostova's novel The Historian or ever-popular balding guitarist The Edge) does not mean that only twenty or thirty people in the whole wide world read your blog. Thus you need to be a bit more careful about what you say and how you say it. I've also learnt that eminent historians don't always read what you write very carefully, and just how deeply-ingrained the elitist culture of the British historical profession is, as well as just how few principles are actually held by the overwhelming majority of the practitioners of said profession. And this in response to something that I actually thought long and hard about how I wrote.

And as a result of all this I have realised that no good is going to come of me continuing to smack my head against the glass ceiling that those of us not from 'a particular socio-educational background' (you know the one) eventually run up against. I have instead come to the decision, essentially, to give up on it and 'seek my fortune' elsewhere than in the confines of the academic career-path, as it is now constructed in the UK at any rate.* I'm actually quite excited about this as I think it offers a lot of possibilities, creatively and ethically. It's been a liberating decision. Those of you who know that I set most store by the writings of those co-opted into the canon of the existentialists (almost none of whom ever called themselves by that name) will appreciate exactly why I am proud of this decision.

To some extent it makes up for the bad faith I showed in backing down and removing my post on why it matters to get angry about the lazy and irresponsible (indeed, yes, just downright knuckle-headed) way in which some historians in and/or produced by our most prestigious Thames Valley-based university write about politically and socially sensitive topics like migrations.

Halsall ultimately sanitized the 2011 IMC paper that started the war with Heather -- the neutered version is still up on his blog -- but the original was apparently quite something:

Perhaps unsurprisingly for those who’ve heard him speak or read him on the Internet, this was the one that really started the war. [Edit: and, indeed, some changes have been made to these paragraphs by request of one of those involved.] The consequences, if not of this actual speech, at least of its subsequent display on the Internet, have been various, unpleasant and generally regrettable, and I don’t want any of them myself.

Thankfully, the purged parts of the original were reproduced by some noble soul on the Civilization Fanatics forums before they were lost to the ages:

Thus we can have Ward-Perkins’ sneering parody of late antiquity studies and Peter Heather’s distortions of counter-arguments. In many people’s minds the choices before us are evidently, either, that nothing happened, or, that there was a huge catastrophe caused entirely by invading barbarians. Obviously this is not the case. Plenty of people other than me -- most famously, Walter Pohl -- have written about serious, dramatic change happening in the fifth century without blaming it on the barbarians and without denying that there were migrations in the fifth century. Yet this -- if I dare call it such -- third way seems nevertheless to be very much a minority position.

But I am not convinced that a simple lack of exposure to sensible alternatives really explains the continuing, fanatical devotion to the idea of the barbarian migrations, especially outside the academy.

I have recently said that:

“When a British historian places an argument that the Roman Empire fell because of the immigration of large numbers of barbarians next to arguments that the end of Rome was the end of civilisation and that we need to take care to preserve our own civilisation, when another British historian writes sentences saying “the connection between immigrant violence and the collapse of the western Empire could not be more direct” [a direct quote from Peter Heather’s Empires and Barbarians (Oxford, 2009)], and especially when the arguments of both involve considerable distortions of the evidence to fit their theories, one cannot help but wonder whether these authors are wicked, irresponsible or merely stupid.”

Obviously, these are not mutually exclusive alternatives.

Are these writers setting themselves up as ideologues of the xenophobic Right or have they simply not realised the uses to which such careless thinking and phrasing can be put? You can draw your own conclusions, although it is worth noting that Ward-Perkins has been happy enough to write on this subject for the neo-liberal magazine Standpoint, which regularly publishes pieces attacking multiculturalism. There comes a point when one has to admit that actually the most charitable explanation for all this really is that these writers are simply a bit dim.

Outside academic circles, it is certainly the case that the adhesion to the idea of barbarian invasion has a heavily right-wing political dimension. Apart from the barbarians’ role as metaphor, already discussed, it is worth, very briefly, thinking about the other reasons why people are so ready to pin the blame on the barbarians. Slavoj Zizek’s Lacanian analysis of antisemitism provides some valuable ways forward. Essentially, the barbarian, like the figure of the Jew, acts as a screen between the subject and a confrontation with the Real, which Zizek sees, slightly differently from Lacan, as the pre-symbolised; things that haven’t been or can’t or won’t be encompassed in a world view. Zizek showed that arguments that “the Jews aren’t like that” are almost never effective against anti-Semites because what real Jews (or actual immigrants, one might say) are like is not the point. Similarly, arguments about the empirical reality of the fifth-century cut little weight with those wedded to the idea of Barbarian Invasion. Just as the anti-Semite takes factual evidence as more proof of the existence of the international Zionist conspiracy, the right-wing devotee of the Barbarian Invasions sees factual counter-arguments as manifestations of the liberal, left-wing academy peddling its dangerous multicultural political correctness. I have read a great deal of this on internet discussion lists -- including a review of my own book, and one of James O’Donnell’s! Michael Kulikowski received a similarly-phrased review from a right-wing academic ancient historian.

The barbarian is the classic “subject presumed to”. The barbarian can change the world; he can bring down empires; he can create kingdoms. The barbarian dominates history. “He” is not like “us”, enmeshed in our laws, our little lives and petty responsibilities. The barbarians -- and you only need to read Peter Heather to see this -- are peoples with “coherent aims” (a quote), which they set out single-mindedly to achieve. No people in the whole of recorded human history have ever had single coherent sets of aims. Well -- none other than the barbarians anyway.

Halsall has never resiled from his belief that Heather was essentially a fascist, nor backed away from his commitment to resign from his post in righteous indignation -- maybe not in 2011, or 2019, but certainly by 2023 at the very latest:

My anger about all this is justly infamous but has been badly misrepresented. I do think that some things are worth getting angry about, and the misuse of the Barbarian Migrations and the End of the Roman Empire to fuel xenophobia and racism, and the way some modern authors pander to this, is one such. However, to look at the origins of this ire and animus, I invite you to compare my engagement with Peter Heather’s work in Barbarian Migrations, and its tone, with Heather’s engagement – if you can call it that – with my work, and its tone, in Empires and Barbarians. I never expect to be agreed with; I do expect basic academic courtesy to be reciprocated. If people see fit to treat me intellectually as a second-class citizen, the gloves will come off. That may stem from my own biography as (unlike so many) a first-generation academic not educated at the 'right' schools and universities, but there we are. I will be leaving the profession within the next four years (well done, guys) so I have nothing to lose by not apologising for that.

Kulikowski might have gotten in a good dig, but Halsall will always be a true master of the art of Being Mad Online.

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hbogirl1998 · 4 years ago

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CASE OF: AKIA EGGLESTON: PREGNANT AND MISSING, ENDANGERED, FOUL PLAY? FINAL THOUGHTS.

Hi, guys I’m back, and unfortunately, this is my last blog. Today, I want to cover the case of Akia Eggleston. Akia, who was 22 at the time of her disappearance, and 8 months pregnant, and has still yet to be found. At the time of her disappearance, Eggleston lived in Cherry Hill, Baltimore and was already a mother to a 2-year-old little girl. The last time Akia was seen was on May 3rd, 2017, and reported missing when she did not show up to her baby shower on May 7th. Friends and family knew Akia had been planning this shower for months, she wouldn’t miss it for the world. One thing I would like to note was that Akia was put on bed rest for her pregnancy, all those close to her knew she couldn’t move around well or participate in anything too physically asserting. Initially when she was reported missing, police searched her apartment and it seemed as if she had moved out, but those around her knew this wasn’t possible given her current health condition. Akia’s friends and family not only knew this was physically impossible, but knew she wouldn’t just leave her 2-year-old daughter abandoned. The father of Akia’s unborn child never showed up to the baby shower, placing him under suspicion of the family, yet he was never labeled as a person of interested or investigated to this day. The exact date of Akia’s disappearance is unknown, but it is believed to be May 3rd, 2017. The suspicious circumstances can’t help but have me wonder if Akia was yet another young black individual labeled as a “runaway”, or “leaving on her own” by police and her community, but we may never know, despite us knowing her physical condition. I hope and pray this wasn’t a label this missing young woman was given. What I do know is that in the first few months of Akia missing, there was only 3 articles about her disappearance, and nonewere national news articles, making it difficult to expand the search for the young mother.

Within a year of Akia’s disappearance, she had only been mentioned in national new articles twice, and one of those articles being grouped together with others. It is sad to know that if this was a young, missing, pregnant white woman, it would be worldwide news. There is little to no information out there about her disappearance, which is also true to her family. In fact, on July 31st, 2019, Akia’s family was invited onto “The View” to talk about Akia’s case. This appearance has Akia’s step father on the record stating, “Yes, we have spoken, and yes, we have met. But when the time that you speak with the individual in such a matter as this is... maybe once, every three, four, five months, you call them to speak to them and you have no response, and you have to go to the level of contacting your congressman, who contacts the mayor, who contacts the assistant, who contacts the chief of police, who then contacts the head of the FBI from the Baltimore division- it’s a crazy process” (Shawn Wilkinson, The View). This is the sad reality of black families and their missing loved ones, hard to read about this knowing Akia’s stepfather has to go to these lengths to simply get a reply or information about his still missing daughter, and grandchild. It is stated while on the show by cohost Sunny Hostin that their (police department’s) “level of communication is not to the expectations of the family” (The View). Akia’s stepfather goes on the record saying, “her story never got outside Baltimore” in 2019, previous to his interview on “The View”. This is the reality that I have seen across a few of my cases, that in this nature the police departments give the bare minimum communication, not the effective communication that these families and friends deserve. And, the obvious commonality across all of my cases, there has been very little news coverage, and we know if the roles were reversed in terms of race, the picture would be very different. We can however, see hope at the end, because coverage on Akia’s case gained more media traction after her stepfather’s appearance on “The View”. I hope to be able to have this post shared so that Akia and her child may have a voice, the potential to be found. This coming May will be 3 years since Akia Eggleston’s disappearance, and I hope that there is active effort being taken. I will attach images and demographics for Eggleston below.

Throughout the course of this semester I’ve had the opportunity to write about missing persons of all ages, specifically African American women and children. I’ve covered cases that depict unequal media coverage, police mishandling, unsolved mysteries, and exactly how African American individuals are mislabeled and openly disrespected whether that be by their community, or local and state law enforcement. It has been extremely eye opening, while also extremely saddening to tell these stories of individuals who seemed to never have a chance of being found. While I was happy to try to bring unheard voices into the light, it has been emotionally difficult to research and write about these cases when I know why it is the way that it is in our country.

I want to talk about how over the course of the semester, it has not only been emotionally difficult to research, but logically as well. It has been extremely difficult to find news stories, coverage and content on these cases, and not only these cases, but missing African American cases in general. It is not me thinking that there aren’t many more African Americans missing in this country, it’s the fact that I know there are so many more missing individuals and I couldn’t find news or coverage to be able to write the blogs. I mean, some of these cases have 5 or less stories on them. It has been challenging to find the content to be able to bring voices to these people simply because the information and news is notout there for people to see, it’s not out there for people to be aware. Which brings me to my reason for writing the blogs, to be able to bring voices to those unheard.

I knew going into this blog that minorities were not equally represented and covered within the media, and I obviously knew police bias towards certain groups of people. But, I had no idea the extent of the little media coverage that there was, I mean many of these cases I really had to dig for information. I really, really had to dig to find the proper information to represent these individuals respectfully and accurately. I also learned police bias doesn’t manifest in only violence towards these groups of people, it manifests in the lack of care and empathy for these missing persons, and the blatant labeling of African Americans as “runaways” and “leaving on their own”, in contrast to their white counterparts. I have noticed the lack of communication between police and the grieving families, something that we all know simply does not happen with non-minority families. It’s difficult to watch these cases come and go with no answers, continuously under the same circumstances. I hope I have been part of the solution to be able to bring voices and coverage in the best way I know how, and call out the inequality themes I have seen. Thank you for following my blogs for the semester, and I hope this becomes one little step in a long process of work that needs to be done.

Here are Akia Eggleston’s demographics and pictures:

Source: ABC NEWS

#blackandmissing

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thisdreamplace · 4 years ago

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Hi, i just wanted to say something and I hope everything will be understood as English is not my first language.

Just a lil thing about me: during one of my worst times in my life I got to find out about loa. Things had to work quickly, whilst having anxiety I tried using methods of everything loa, Neville, the secret, etc. my case was the same as it is with many: I just wanted a person back into my life, while I had the worst mental breakdown ever

While I acknowledge some very good intentions with loa, I also see a lot of risks and boundaries, that people don‘t seem to have and maybe also the lack of understanding for a few situations.

I get loa, I get the work behind it, I tried it, sometimes successfully used it, had my typical ups and downs but to a certain degree I strongly believe it messes people up.

I read about someone in your asks talking about their sp for 3 years now and with everything that happened, taking a step back, not thinking through loa but with a sense of reality: who would want Someone back into their life who for several years treated them like sh*t, taking them for granted or even just as a doormat? During my work I had to face the harsh reality: while we seem to be able to be successful with something like loa, if it’s used during deep anxiety and without boundaries, is this still something to work on? No, it makes matters worse.

I could go on about this longer but idk where this ask stops to insert words so i’m suggesting something for people who deal with anxiety during loa: step back for a moment. Acknowledge your anxiety and tell yourself that it’s okay for this moment. Ask yourself, what your boundaries are, write a list for your future sp and their positive aspects, things you want in a good friend or partner. And honestly, befriend yourself with the thought of letting go of that old sp who literally causes you anxiety.

I think it is in no way good to use loa for someone, who hurts you, loa is about prioritizing YOURself, allow yourself to grow, even out of your dependence towards your old, hurtful sp. loa is about letting go so LET GO of hurtful things. If this person is leaving, honestly, that’s the sign of the universe to let them go because you have better things coming for you. Loa is about selflove: stay true to yourself, your real needs and your boundaries and your list of your future friend or partner.

Loa will get you that: what you truly are. If you see yourself as weak and as a doormat, then this is what you get, typical psychology.

Don’t be too hard on yourself folks, this is not loa imo, this is wishful thinking, codependency and deeprooted hurt feelings.

And the good thing is, there are many positive and gentle ways to get out of this, the right people will come across and follow but it’s time to cut of toxic people, regardless of loa, because it’s not working there anymore AND IT’LL BE SO WORTH IT!!!!

I’ve seen many people terribly desperate and anxious about loa, this is not how it should be. It’s OKAY and good to feel negative things but not if it’s regularly coming from another person and if it’s ongoing.

I’ve been there and I feel many many more times better than I did with my only focus on loa and a person who hurt me continuously. I was not aware of my reality. You can change your reality but not the reality of another person who shows you obvious signs that they have no other intentions than using you. You don’t want that for you, you want actual love.

In the beginning it’s hard but the fear of letting go in the end was not as bad as the damage everything before had caused. It’s absolutely worth it and important. That’s when LOA starts and it will work in different ways to help you get on the right path. (:

Thank you and good day to everyone reading this.

I wish for everyone to be more conscious about themselves, to be more caring towards themselves. Don’t give hurtful people more power over hurting you than they already have.

Hi. Respectfully, I disagree with your point of view. It’s very law of attraction based, which is cool. But this is a law of assumption blog, heavily inspired by Neville Goddard’s work. So we just aren’t on the same page off the bat. But I think what you said is fair and not everyone is into the radicalness of the law of assumption. So perhaps someone who will come across my blog will read what you said and it will make everything click for them. Good for them!!

I agree with your points on focusing on yourself. Look at my pinned post. Look at my response to most anons and even my personal posts. It all comes back to you, always always always. But you lose me on the victim mentality. There’s nothing to let go of except the victim mentality. That’s really all you have to “let go” of in terms of the law.

I could care less if a person decides to manifest their sp or someone new. It’s weird to me to try to tell someone what they should and shouldn’t be manifesting. I just want everyone to be happy and no one gets to decide what that looks like for them, except them. Hard pill to swallow, but no one is causing anyone anxiety except themselves. Do we tend to place our problems on things outside of ourselves? Yeah, that’s part of the problem and why we manifested so much undesirable experiences in the first place. But in the law of assumption, you take full responsibility for your life. Period. We now know we were always in charge and we can make a beautiful life for ourselves. I don’t want to sound harsh or anything, but it is just simply the way the law works.

What I can never do though, is sit here and pretend like I really think there’s people out there who are just so bad for you. No one said you have to keep a person around. Please, if you truly feel it is best for you to step away from a person, do it. You must always do what is best for you. But I’m not going to pretend like we aren’t responsible for our lives, if we so choose to go down this path. Like, fully, anyone’s sp can be the absolute perfect dream. If they weren’t capable of it, there wouldn’t be a desire there for it. Our desires are a promise. I am glad that you decided to manifest someone new and got something great out of it, but that has nothing to do with anyone else’s journey. Plenty of people get back their sp and they’re perfect and it lasts. Because they did the work on themselves. And there is no one to change but self.

Anyone is the worth the time, if we so deem so. Why should anyone settle for less than the person they want? At the end of the day, you aren’t any less because you love someone so much and want them in your life. And you aren’t any better because you decided to move on and manifest someone new. In the law of assumption, there’s no judgements. All I advocate for is the golden rule to be applied unto others. But other than that, it’s free game to manifest what ever the hell you want. Your reality, your rules.

To me, respecting yourself and staying true to yourself means allowing yourself to have what you want. Not shying away from it or watering it down. Not settling for something less or modifying it. And if you understand how the law works, you know you aren’t “chasing” someone who’s “bad” for you. That version of them only existed because of who you were. And there is no one to change but self! We know this! Being able to take responsibility for that is amazing. Because it sure as hell isn’t easy. But it is setting you up for a lifetime of freedom and peace within, beyond any manifestations.

Finally, I will say people love to look down on sp manifestations and I just cannot relate. Really, sp manifestations can be the most beautiful when you really think about it. Like, there is someone out there who is so worth it to you... you become worth it to yourself. You are able to finally see the love within yourself because of them. The love that was there all along. You are finally able to awaken to your Godself because of them having been in your life. And you can manifest the life of your dreams because of having met them. Because of this person, you learned not to settle and you learned to persist. You got to see how strong you are, when everything was so painful and seemed against you. You found this part of you that you want to experience life with, and that’s so lovely. In that way, it’s like the most romantic version of soulmates you can get. It’s so boring that people constantly equate love with some type of weakness. When really, love is who we really are. It’s so absolutely natural to have a sp! Like really. We are love! Such a desire truly brings us home.

Also, there’s no setting the law aside to “face reality.” The law of assumption literally calls for us to dismantle the illusion of “reality.” It’s not a technique that works sometimes. It’s a lifestyle. So, it’s actually important to allow ourselves to relax into knowing who we truly are (God). Rather than thinking the law only applies sometimes and other times it’s time to “get real.” There’s no one out there calling the shots. We are one with the universe, God, source, whatever you wanna call it. That’s the main thing the law has us realize and accept.

All that being said, I truly hope your message reaches anyone who needed to see it. And I hope my response instills more confidence in those who are into manifesting as a lifestyle. 💖

#sp

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gotmeringinghellsbells · 5 years ago

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The Best Dad You Could Be

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki/Midoriya, Yamato Todoroki (Oc)

A/N: This fanfiction contains an oc for my next generation au and a little back story. Yamato is the only son of Yaoyorozu, and eldest of Todoroki. He loves both of his parents, and the two stay friends even after their divorce. There is no hate to ships on this blog.... well.... Mineta is another story.

Description: Shoto has always had doubts about being a parent since his son was born. As he grew, he didn’t have much time to dwell on the possibilities of being a bad parent. But as life settled down he began to think more about it and asks his husband if he’s doing it right. Deku, only able to compare Shoto to All Might, gets an idea . He needs to show a little more emotion around the babe.

When Shoto Todoroki found out he was going to be a father, joy was the least of his emotions. He was terrified. It wasn’t the failing marriage he was in, or the partner he had, but the fear of being a good father. He feared being…. his father.

For about a year him and Momo cared for their son together before deciding it would be best to go separate ways. It wasn’t until he left that he realized she was a key balance in his confidence. Her fear, her insecurities of being a mother, of working with a child lead Shoto to be the best father he could be! However, he didn’t know where to go, and Yamato wanting to be with him more than Momo made it even harder!

]He refused to go back to his father with Hawks and Toya there, let alone Endeavor. His mother had her own studio apartment, but…. As heartless as it sounded, Shoto didn’t want his mother alone with his baby. He loved her to pieces but Yamato had more features that resembled his father than Shoto did.

Between that and him waking up his mother every hour with crying, Shoto just couldn’t do it! Iida was busy with his career taking off, Urakara was busy too. Deku was the only one not under an agency but…. Shoto didn’t want to bother anyone. From Momo’s fear, from Shoto’s situational confidence, Yamato wanted his daddy; which made this all so much harder.

Momo’s parents didn’t exactly want to take in their former son-in-law either. They would have let their daughter stay with them until she could get back on her feet, but Shoto gave the house to her. From his kind act…. He was now screwed over.

It turned out showing up at the Midoriya’s was the best choice he could have made as they were quick to take him in. The living space was small but he’d make due with what he could and wouldn’t complain. The hardest part was trying to keep everything from his boss…. his father. Endeavor planned to retire, and for Shoto to take over he had to work under him.

The poor guy was exhausted, sleeping through baby cries and waking the house. More than once he’d woken up form All Might or Inko trying to calm his small babe as he lay in bed, leaching the heat off of Midoriya. He’d apologize and quickly try to take over before being pushed back down into bed. The two cared for the poor guy, Inko being able to relate to his situation. He was trying so hard to parent, to be the best dad he could while working his way out of his current living situation.

But it was one cold, winter night that would change all of that for him. Once more he’d slept through Yamato’s crying, but this time neither older adult came to the babe’s aid. Midoriya woke, not being able to sleep too much as it was. He climbed out of bed and picked up his crying roommate before sitting back on the bed and just…. Soothing him. He was talking to him, trying to lul him back to sleep after he’d calmed.

Midoriya found him to be the cutest little thing, so goofy and particular. He would ponder what Yamato’s quirk would be, which parent he’d look like more as he aged. It was just fun thoughts to have after a day of intense work. When Shoto woke to see the other coddling his son, he felt it in his heart. Resting a head on Midroiya’s shoulder after failing to retrieve his son from the older, Shoto finally felt secure again for the first time in a while.

They took off as a family, money was coming in, they had their first place until they saved enough for a final home. They were a family. But…. unlike Momo, Izuku was confident; to an extent, he’d have small bursts of panic that Shoto had to fix but he was still someone Yamato felt secure with. Something Shoto still didn’t feel sometimes, like today.

He lay in bed, relaxing on his day off, just watching as his now two-year-old told his hand and bend each finger. He was truly curious about how things worked, it was adorable. His chubby little face would scrunch up, a small pout would be present, and his brows would furrow more and more as he tested new things. “What are you learning today, hm? You now how fingers bend.” Momo said she’d do this to her too, whenever she had him.

“Yeah but it’s a new day, something may have changed,” a new voice hummed out with a yawn. Deku rolled over to curl into his husband’s back as the tot ignored them in the name of discovery. “Oh? Is that true? Excuse me Yamo,” the father teased before poking the little one with his free hand. Yamato looked up before looking slowly to the finger that touched him and pushing it away. He didn't like to talk much during his new discoveries, otherwise Shoto would have gotten a talking to.

The father laughed before sighing. He didn’t like to talk insecurities in front of the child but…. He couldn’t always get away from him to release his emotions. “Zuku.” Deku hummed as he held his heater and cooler closer. “I’m…. doing this right, right?” Deku scrunched up his face a bit before sleepily popping up on the smaller’s shoulder. "Doing what right?” Shoto motioned to his baby who was now trying to get his hand to act like a spider.

“I mean…. Yeah. You put him before everything, you always take time to make sure he knows right from wrong, you do all the right parenting things.” The step father tried to think. He didn’t have someone to really compare Shoto too. As much as All Might was a distant dad figure to him (even if he was his step father now), from interviews you couldn’t tell how one would parent.

But there was something that always assured Izuku he was safe, that things ould be okay. “I mean…. You don’t show that much emotion around him.” He really didn’t. Momo did, Jiro did, Izuku did, almost everyone but Shoto did; yet little Yamato followed his father’s example most of the time and was just…. blank faced. “Is that so?” The green bean nodded, hair tickling his husband’s bared neck.

“Ihahzuku,” the now second pro hero giggled. “ Mmm…. see? You need to smile more, Yamato agrees.” Shoto looked forward to his babe that was now grinning ear to ear. “Dada ticklish?” The babe looked so happy it squeezed at Shoto’s heart. Crap. “Izuku, don’t you eve- pfff! MMmmmmmm!” The male tried to resist the feeling on his stomach, squirming around as he was held closer.

“Comeon Sho-kun, Yamo wants to see your smile! You wanted to improve your parenting. Step one is smiling more!” Poor man was trapped between his worst tickle monsters, one already attacking. “Zhahahahauku!” Shoto let loose, his son’s laughter joining his as he scooted forward to try and help.

He tried tickling Shoto’s nose, earning more high pitched giggles as the man tried to turn his face away. “That’s it Yamo! We gotta save dada from the sad villain!” The boy squealed adorably as he tried to move on to the cheeks. The cute look of determination and attempt to gain a reaction gained the reaction alone as Deku stopped. He was so cute!

“That’s it, your doing it kiddo! Your saving dada!” Shoto snorted before shoving at Midoriya as his baby giggled and started to tickle under Shoto’s chin. The surenamed Todoroki giggled, whining softly as the spot wasn’t all that ticklish. “Why are you shoving me villain? The little hero is defeating you,” Deku giggled before tickling Shoto’s stomach again. The male screamed softly before dissolving into giggles.

He turned to roll into his husband, earning a pout from the baby. It tickled too much and Shoto wasn’t about to keep squirming around like a fish out of the water; it was a little embarrassing and he could accidently hit his baby as he flailed. “Izuku,” he squealed as he jumped up slightly from the other’s chest, hands squeezing at his lower back. “Chahahut thahaht out! Sthahhaaop thahah- eek!”

Yamato was forgotten as the green haired male rolled on top of his husband, totally wrecking him. Scratching at his ribs, under his arms, down his hips, his chest. He stayed on the upper body, teasing and smiling as he worked. Shoto screamed and shrieked with laughter, something his son had never heard before. But rather than fuss or get upset from the exclusion…. Yamato just observed. He watched what his step father or papa was doing.

He watched his hands, how the fingers would bend on different areas of the torso and imitated it. He took silent note of his father’s reactions given the areas his papa tickled. “Izhzhzhhahahauku!” Deku laughed, coming back to reality as he quickly stopped and started trying to soothe the other, apologizing repeatedly. The number two hero panted softly before a movement caught his eye. Yamato moved closer before leaning between his dad’s, a hand on Shoto’s shoulder for support.

“Yamo, what are you doing little soba?” The kid hadn’t been teritorial before but Shoto wasn’t sure what he was doing, until a hand found his chest. “Pff! Yhahahahmato!’ Shoto covered his face as he giggled, Izuku catching the laughing child as he nearly fell forward from Shoto’s action. “We did it bud!” Deku lifted his step son up in victory before kissing his chubby cheek. “We did it! Dada is free!” Yamato squealed with absolute delight as he held Deku and lifted a matching arm in victory.

Shoto sighed as he watched them through his fingers, they were too much. A smile same to his face; maybe he should show a bit more emotion.

#bnha #mha #tododeku #tickle #tickling #ticklish #tickle fight #domestic #family #oc #shoto todoroki #shoto midoriya #izuku midoriya #deku

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trubilee · 4 years ago

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so i guess i’ll write (blogwrite?) now.

today we were authorized for early release at D, the way we are whenever there’s a holiday, so i decided to use up my 3 hours of company-gifted time to try and write this morning (not write this blog, but write other stuff, which tired me so now i am writing this blog as my treat for this last hour).

it has been a challenge to write these past several months. i sort of think i know why, or i know what triggered it at least. not sure why the difficulty persists but i guess i could pat myself on the back for trying this morning.

there are a lot of things i’ve been wanting to write about. in no particular order, my performance eval at work, my strange quarantine life-related skincare fixation journey (oh, the ups and downs), wes and happiness and my odd overthinking of it sometimes, the chasing francis book i finished a couple weeks ago, the funeral last week, and... hmm. maybe that’s around everything i can think of. oh, music in the time of rona too. also stuff in me that the writing has kicked up. i guess i could try. oh, and my bras of choice during these WFH times. maybe a little about daisy and the vaccine.

so. performance eval. it went extremely well. we took the full hour. my leader L is not the type to give much feedback, but in the first half of that hour she basically looked straight at me and told me all the things i would’ve wanted to hear. about client group 1, and 2, and 3, the breadth and versatility and equal parts drafting and interpersonal connecting components of them all. i repeated it all to paul when i told him how it went, and really, really it was everything i would’ve wanted to hear from her. i was praying thanks to God as she was talking to me through the screen, because i was just absorbing all the words that i had been so hungry to have her give to me this whole past year. and there are so many things to it too. things like, i know i am not perfect and everything to everyone the way i think i should--even could be--and i can’t necessarily just say to myself “oh but nobody is” because actually, at this company, there are some people who are, they really really are just so good, and i feel so bad just taking in how good they are at thinking on their feet and killing it at getting things done here, and being so articulate and effective at communicating and dynamic and all of it. anyway, the conversation felt so... whole-making. hahaha. make-whole-ing? another part of it is that i have always been grateful for the job, i always felt like it was suck a lucky winning when i shouldn’t have necessarily landed it and with that came this default set of thoughts that went, oh they hate me. oh they think i am inept. oh they see how inept i am. they regret hiring me. i don’t want them to regret hiring me. that would be one of my worst fears, jobwise. to burden someone with my existence on their team. i know that it’s healthy to think that a company is lucky to have you and to know your worth and all, but bc i’m kind of acquainted with my own versions of total failure, i’m not good at thinking that way. i’m always thinking that i’m lucky to work for X company. it would probably make many a leadership coach or asian american advancement advocate grimace. i’m sure it’s a handicap to me careerwise, salarywise, etc etc, but asking me to fix it is like asking mesomeone to stop being insecure. in that, it's not something you can change by will. it almost feels like a part of my dna, not just some protective armor. this is why i sort of roll my eyes inside when someone announces that she (it’s usually a she) has imposter syndrome. it’s unfair, i know, but i almost want to look around and say, wait is that not just the normal state of things? why are you acting like it’s some sort of unusual complex that you have? i thought everyone, anyone with any noonchi, had that. that’s like saying that--gasp--you don’t think you’re the absolute sh*t. it doesn’t mean you're afflicted with anything. i should ease up a little.

damn. i only have 20 min left.

ok another thing about the performance eval. about which i joked to my leader, when she said we could have these conversations more regularly if we wanted to, that my heart could only take once a year at most. i was so relieved, so happy, i felt so uncaged afterwards. bc again, really it extinguished all of the unhelpful fears that had made me so tense about work this year. and part of me, the part that is always maybe a little too self aware, thought to myself, that gosh, if getting a positive review from my leader at some big company where i am a corporate peon is this satisfying to me, then perhaps my world, my dreams, are just rather small.

i was thinking about that and preemptively tried to put it to paul this way: that sometimes i feel very rich. not like money-wise, bc i know just enough of the wrong people to ever feel that way (lol). but more in a life-currency sort of way. like when i think about my little family of three, my son who is so perfectly delightful that i don’t even know how to--i don’t know how to appreciate him or even just take him in without feeling like his delightfulness is slipping through my fingers simultaneously with, even AS i’m, looking at him and trying to appreciate him and take him in (does that make any sense?), my husband who i have similar slightly overwhelmed feelings about when it comes to his quality as a human being and heart on this earth, and my mom and dad who both survived their different cancers. about how somehow God provided me with not just the friends i needed but even extra friends who i didn’t dare think i had a chance at asking for, and even this house, and having and seeing daisy and family regularly, and gosh even my inlaws who only seem to ever give and never receive (sorry, ommonim abbonim...) and my sister in law who i feel the same way about, and our nanny, and yes this job too, this job i once never thought i had the right to even dream of having bc of said past failures, this job for two companies brands i adore and believe in. and the chance to write, and feeling like i have something to write about. and even knowing a handful of living, breathing, non-robot human beings who actually read what i write, actually think it’s worth their time. what marvels.

on the other hand, sometimes i feel rather poor. i feel like we don’t have enough savings, we aren’t saving enough. i feel like we will always just need to work for a salary bc neither of us is in a job role where we make dividends happen for us. and i am so junior here at a place where promotions are slower than slow anyway, and salaries aren’t tech or finance salaries anyway. and i feel ugly and like a half-distracted working mom whose life is devoid of glamour or romance or margin or space or passion / vision. well, i guess my “poor” list is a lot shorter than my rich list.

all this to say, after my dumb performance eval i felt like a rich woman. not because they told me i was getting some big raise (i’m not, and i don’t generally care bc the raises are so small and have you seen the mass layoffs happening here). i felt rich bc i felt like i got really validating feedback from leaders i really admire, both on a professional and personal level, and i work on a team with colleagues who i think are really excellent at what they do, and i work at a company where i really like what they make. i feel kind of silly typing all of this out bc it’s so freaking wholesome and vanilla and, again, small, but it’s true. those things made me happy after my review. and this is the job i report to 8 hours a day. yep. real stable, ordinary stuff.

i told paul that in thinking about how happy i felt and feeling self-conscious about that happiness, i would rather feel like a rich woman and be objectively “poor” than to be the other way around. to feel like i am poor but in reality be quite rich.

it’s also funny bc B and G also specifically separately felt compelled to send me messages confirming this same exact thought, now that i think about it. how wonderful. thank you.

next topic. bras in rona times. yesterday i bought my fourth--no, lemme count--seventh! eberjey bra. it’s not bc i’m being greedy, it’s just that the ones i started with i wore so often that they jstarted wearing out. the eberjey bras are generally underwired, with no lining except a thin layer of lace, and they make my boobs--my post-maternity, seen-such-better-days, already wilted boobs look terrible under my clothes. but i am working from home and don’t need the extra lining for decency’s sake. and when i see the bras in my bra drawer and i deposit my boobs into them every morning it feels lovely. the bras are unflattering but they are delicate enough (while still practical) and comfortable to wear and are lovely to look at.

well i need to start my workday now. if i ever get around to it i’ll write about other stuff.

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