#and what is clearly a massive struggle with alcoholism and depression

[currentlyonstandbi]

until capcom proves me otherwise, this is my interpretation of leon throughout the entire film

#dont get me wrong okay i loved the movie #and i could watch these guys get up to hijinx and shenanigans for another 10 films #BUT it being marketed as a sequel to vendetta really had me believing they would follow up on Leon's state of mind in that film #and what is clearly a massive struggle with alcoholism and depression #especially considering he seemed to be fine in this film from what we saw in trailers #so at least some sort of reference or indication as to how he seemed to be doing so much better all of a sudden #but there was none of that #other than Dylan's offhand comment in his speech about Leon being 'all burnt out' from the endless missions he's being dragged into #so i am now choosing to believe he is simply not okay #and that maybe he's managed to get a handle on the drinking but this man is still deep in the throes of major passive depression #and that's that on that ! #@ me about it capcom u cowards #resident evil #resident evil death island #re death island #re #death island spoilers #leon kennedy

[screechingkingdomhottub]

RATING DIFFERENT MENTAL HEALTH COUNSELLING SERVICES (UK)

Soo bit about me is im bisexual, trans, autistic, depressed and have had some Bad Coping Mechanisms so trigger warnings for sh, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism and addictions, anything else lemme know and i'll edit this. When I was a young boy, I realised bad things in my brain and after struggling finally got encouraged to reach out for help, here's how i'd rate my experiences. First though, regardless of any of these ratings you should seek help, because even if the help sucks which it might, you get a little boost in your brain that you're trying and it could be the difference between 1 day but that 1 day is special. I believe in you. As someone who has been struggling for 10 years now, it does get better but your struggle doesnt magically stop. So this is in no way me saying "all help sucks dont bother" but the exact opposite like always choose to seek for help.

First we have Mr Big Boi Jo AKA the samaritans, I have reached out to them so many times since I was like 13. The email feature is amazing like being able to sorta control when you are willing to not only send the message but also check the response is wonderful. I'd pour my heart and soul out and then be able to step away and recover from that vulnerability, be excited for when I'd get an email back, if I didn't feel like responding in that moment then I would not have to. But they have a tendency to sign post you quite easily like i've been sent to chris at lgbt , childline, some autism stuff that rubbed me the wrong way. It can feel kinda like you're getting dismissed and told to bugger off. "But that's not what they're doing!" oh right i forgot people in mental health crises should think more clearly, how dare i think they may have thinking issues and be sensitive in those times, ridiculous of me /s so I'm gonna rate them 6.5/10. This also probably depends on who you get. I'm gonna have to DQ [email protected] because I genuinely forgot I had any interaction with them, they seem alright and I suppose if you're struggling with gender and sexuality they're worth a shot? I'm rather comfortable in my identity now so I don't want to take that resource away from people for any experiment like this. CHILDLINE - Not just that one phone number you call if your parents are abusive. Genuinely childline is so misrepresented due to what we classify as abuse like if you are under 18, you can go on childline and play games, have a live chat feature with counsellors, ask on message boards, view message boards or send as an email instead of the chat. You can choose! I think it would be amazing even for adults but once again, no stealing resources. "But I have DID and it's complicated cause my little needs help-" dude I'm not qualified for that, you probably know more than I do like don't put this on me. I cannot remember one negative experience with them. I just remember being scared and messaging people, OH AND THE NOTES YOU CAN ASK THEM TO READ NOTES SO THEY'RE CAUGHT UP ON STUFF EVEN IN LIVE CHAT. 9.5/10 would be a 10 if I was still a child but I'm unfortunately 23 so im bitter. It may have changed but now but I strongly encourage people to try it because I didn't want to because I thought it was only for kids being physically abused, it's also for like teenagers who are self harming. SHOUT - Oh Shout, you are the most 50/50 out of these. I genuinely use SHOUT more than samaritans now but it can go really bad. I message and am like "hello i wanna drink myself to death" but if i do that on like friday nights or something, the wait times are massively long and I've found some other way to soothe myself but when they are there they do talk very gently, they offer valid resources about things like as pdfs this time not just links to websites of people that can help. It's similar to counselling in person imo so it's about vibes sometimes. 8/10 or wait/10 damn those wait times KOKO - I'm glad it exists but haven't found much help from it personally. I do like that it sorta puts less stress on people that want to help social media accounts in crisis like that's a very important thing we didn't have when I first had the internet and it caused a lot of damage but in terms of the rating of how it helped 4/10.

GP - OMG GPs right? Anyone in the UK that's been to a GP for depression will immediately be thinking "oh right a WALK ADN SOME TEA RIGHT??" because that's always your first offer. Always. I should also mention I never went to CAMHs because of how my GP saw me, I went to a different centre for at risk youths in a different town in the most wonderful and bizarre therapy I've ever had but that place has shut down and there's absolutely no way other people have had that experience because whenever I say this stuff to people they may as be looking at me like I'm talking about narnia. GPs don't really seem to take you seriously until you're 18. But people don't seem to be really listening, your antidepressants aren't gonna stop your depression. They're going to fight it a little bit but you gotta do other stuff to get the endorphins and that's where the walks and exercise come in. People will bitch about theirs not working and they don't listen to what the GP says like "they keep upping my dose cause it isnt working!" then you find out that person has been drinking every other day which cancels those meds out. So with all that said, GPs are getting a 5/10. Some of mine were really helpful, some sucked, age is a big factor.

I hope you are able to use this info or even just now be more aware of all the help you can get in the new year. It's time to get happy again <3

#mental health

[sourbat]

i'm always always always curious about your magnus and toki dynamic because it seems so fleshed-out and lovingly considered. can you talk a bit about how you write their relationship? :D and what is the appeal of them specifically that made you ship it and start writing it?

Oh, wow. There is just now way I’ll be able to answer this to the extent i want, but I’ll give you a brief intro???

I’ll be working backwards with this one. 

what is the appeal of them specifically that made you ship it and start writing it?

Specifically? I really like that they’re more a reflection of one another, with Magnus being a massive “warning/”what if?”” for Toki, if he was denied the same opportunities for love and/or success, kicked out of the band, etc.. They share a lot of similarities, both good and bad, so there’s also a potential “invest now and guarantee a better tomorrow” that both men, to some extent, are aware of. The fact that Toki is also objectively far from perfect also helps. I know with some ships, it’s not always clear that both characters have problems, and I know there are ships where it’s mainly one person helping the other. I think for this ship, it’s not about redeeming one character here, it’s about two characters trying to get past various obstacles and becoming better for it. To continue that reflecting theme, everything that Toki does for Magnus can be returned later, ranging from Magnus eventually taking care of Toki post G2, and even bringing Toki back to life.  It’s the fact that they’re one in the same, it makes it so interesting and fun to write! 

I know, with the basic power dynamic within the canon universe, not to mention established characteristics clearly stated in the show, it means that a lot of the burden is going to be on Toki using his resources to help Magnus first. I kinda dig it. Give power of (emotional/mental) healing to Toki, and make the god of death a savior. Personally, there’s a lot of really nice, untapped worship material here that I definitely want to explore. Or, you can. I definitely wouldn't mind. 

i'm always always always curious about your magnus and toki dynamic because it seems so fleshed-out and lovingly considered. can you talk a bit about how you write their relationship?

Thank you!! Well, this is going to be long, but I’ll try to keep it...kinda shortish? (In order at the very least.) 

To begin, I know someone who does live with mental illness, and over the course of our six year friendship, have experienced a lot of ups and downs. But we’ve been friends for six years, and looking at it as a whole, it’s crazy to see how much they’ve improved compared to when they first emailed me a billion years ago. But things weren’t always as good as they are now, and these things took time to get to that point. A lot of the things Toki’s said to Magnus aren’t too far from some of the things I’ve suggested to them, and some of the really messed up things Magnus has thought or said regarding himself, his mood swings, shifting attitude towards Toki, that’s all based on real moments, feelings and arguments. 

I think we agreed there were stages to this relationship, and mine are pretty much based on a combination of what I experienced, plus what I realistically think these two would go through. Since everything is, to some extent, planned out, and because I have a somewhat visible end goal in sight (already hinted at in other fics), it makes writing the harder parts leading up to it easier, and makes pulling memories and old emotions all the more fruitful. 

So there are four stages in their relationship, and when I write I try to figure where it's taking place. I’m not going into the nitty gritty, but if you want more I can elaborate. They are the following: 

Codependent stage: I legitimately think the first stage would be a codependent one. At this stage, Magnus cannot refuse Toki’s attention. It’s partly out of guilt, partly because Toki’s one of the few constants in his life, one of the few people providing him attention and with his illness, it’s some he craves. He wants attention without having to expose himself too much, and Toki’s providing just that. In turn, Toki receives validation and attention, something we know he wants from others. Neither want to talk about DR because they’re scared, and they both secretly hope the other will do it for him, but also dread it. Magnus is afraid that once the talk happens, things will “move on,” and he loses Toki, and Toki’s afraid he’ll fear Magnus again, and that everything everyone said about him is true. 

Communicative 1: The second stage really is just about communication, but it’s also the longest stage, which is why I break it into two. It’s  Magnus and Toki coming to terms with what happened, taking their time out of fear of what will come next, and facing that cathartic, but frightening sense of relief when they realize they don’t hate one another, and that are still bearings to their relationship. Toki now has evidence Magnus feels bad and cares about him, likes him for the joy it brings in his life, so there’s more incentive to return, even if it means asking more questions and getting painful answers. And Magnus now knows Toki will not leave him (for now), and starts to open up more, starting with things he thinks will continue keeping Toki around, then eventually moving on to other personal aspects of his life. 

Communicative 2: Magnus starts picking up slack, and Toki can start easing back with bearing the emotional/mental burdens. Magnus begins to share personal information he normally wouldn't, and Toki starts to feel more confident as his hard work starts to take form in Magnus being kinder, trying to stick with a plan regarding his mental health, creating goals and listening to Toki’s advice. Towards the later end, Magnus starts picking up on Toki’s issues more, and begins asking about them and slowly adjusting to avoid those triggers (Toki’s an alcoholic, has Panic Disorder and suffers from Depression). Eventually, guilt ceases to be the reason they’re together. 

Equilibrium: Magnus is regularly taking care of himself without needing to be reminded, and is now looking after Toki. Magnus CAN take care of Toki when needed, and can successfully put his own thoughts aside to help another person. Post G2 Magnus repays Toki back and basically takes care of him in the similar manner Toki did before. At various times during this stage Magnus believes Toki will never leave him, but considering his age chances are the doubt  will never vanish, only subdued when it arises. Toki eventually heals from some of his past traumas, beats depression, but still struggles with nightmares and panic attacks, though they are few and far between. They take care of each other.

#lampmeeting #toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #magtok #hammertooth #headcanon ask thing #sorry its so long #I feel like i missed some parts too #but that's the jist of it?? #thank you for asking tho! #i can say a lot about these two

[faedawayyy]

DALLAS JACKSON.

my forever obsession. i feel like his story and margo’s story go hand in hand and when they’re put together, it makes so much sense why they are the way they are. 

TW: DRUGS, ALCOHOL, VERBAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE 

CHILDHOOD (0 - 11) 

dallas is the youngest of two. he was born in april and from the moment he was born, he became the centre of his mum’s universe. he never did anything to be that way; she always told him that he came at just the right time. he never really knew what that meant but it’d end up being the main thing that sent so many other things spiralling in the wrong direction as he grew up. 

anywhere his mother went, dallas would be taken too. their parents couldn’t go on dinner dates without dallas coming along in his pushchair while margo stayed with her nanny. he’d go to lunch dates with friends and parties he was too young to be at. his mother was incredibly attached but to him, it felt like love and what child doesn’t want that? she’d suffered with postpartum after margo and dallas was her chance to redo motherhood the “right” way. 

dallas never saw much of his dad growing up and when he did, it was during the late hours of the nigh when he’d come home in his suit looking tired. around the same time dallas would go to bed. they were fine though and had a better relationship than margo did with her parents. 

dallas spent very little time with anybody his own age. he was desperate to be close to margo but jealousy pushed them away. he’d spend most of his time going to events with his parents and being around other adults.  

he loved school because it gave him independence. he was free from his mother’s attachment and he got to make friends with kids his own age. he loved maths, sports and music the most; he was a member of many sports teams and also took part in any school concert that came his way. he was best on the drums and didn’t start singing until much later. 

spending a lot of time at home meant that he got to see his dad’s career grow and has more happy memories of his childhood and his parent’s marriage than margo does. however, his mother’s obsession with him did used to make him feel like his dad resented him in a weird way, though. it never showed in huge ways and he came to the conclusion it was just in his head. he was only 11, after all.

TEEN YEARS (12-18) 

high school started out weird for dallas. knowing who he is now, people would expect him to have been popular from the get go but he actually really struggled to make friends. spending most of his childhood with adults over 30, he struggled to connect with teenagers - and especially boys - his own age. 

he did get in with a group of guys but he was very clearly the weakest link or the one they’d bully and pick on just because they could. he’d shrug it off as a joke but it made him hate school. a lot. it was in the 12 - 14 year old range that he stopped doing sports or putting a lot of effort into school. it didn’t effect his grades because he’s naturally gifted in academics, but he lost his love for learning and school in general. 

dallas spent most of his younger teen years not being invited out and watching his friends have fun without him. he still went to events with his parents just to get out of the house. agreeing to sing at a christmas party led him to signing a contract with charles hamilton’s music label. over a summer, he made his debut EP and released a single. 

he blew up. almost instantly. the song ‘one time’ was a hit and he was almost certain that this would earn him respect at school. it turned out to be the reverse; he was mocked. people would play his songs ironically and he was called every name you could think of. he even got beat up a few times because of it. it made him miserable and he begged charles to terminate his contract. that never happened but he never, ever wanted to make music. 

studying and working on his first full length album, dallas met ruby at school at around 13 and she was the first friend he had that didn’t insist on making a joke of him. he learnt she was adopted by edwin carmichael which made her a family friend; she was the person he mainly started hanging out with and he gradually got to know her friends which opened him up to a new circle too. 

separating from his first friendship group was positive, he started to love sports and music again and school became somewhere he could tolerate. he posted music online and ended up releasing ‘baby’ - another song that absolutely blew up and sent him into stardom way too early.  

his mum became his manager and helped him balance school and all of his new career success, something else that earned him a string of horrible texts and comments from margo. at this point, he never saw her and she despised him for taking everything she wanted. 

he didn’t have much time to think about it. the older dallas got, the more financially successful he became and by the time he hit 15, he was the highest earner in his family. at around he same time, cracks in his parents marriage was showing at home. 

his dad never tried to hide the fact that he hated dallas for earning more than him and for a good few years, his father had control over his money. anything he earned went straight to mr jackson. dallas never saw a penny...and because his dad had a gambling addiction, a lot of it went down the drain.

by the time dallas reached 18, he had multiple offers from talent academies and academic universities. he originally chose to go to yale and study physics. he’d had a taste of fame and the music industry and didn’t want it. 

dallas’s father had put money aside for him when he was 18 for college. so, he used that to pay his tuition fees. however, after only one term, the account was drained and he didn’t have the money to stay. he worked jobs at bars and shops to pay his way but one job payed more than most and that was drug dealing. not hard to come by on a campus of over privileged kids. however, he was quickly caught and asked to leave. 

dallas came home to a completely different environment. his family were bankrupt and his dad had sold the law firm. they were living on loans and their parent’s marriage became massively toxic. he saw his dad beat his mum, multiple times, and when he rushed to defend her - which he would every time - he’d get the same treatment. 

he felt like he didn’t have the option to move away like margo, who would take care of their mum? that’s what drove his decision to stay local and go to st judes. but, he hated margo to leave him to deal with his dad’s mess and find a way...on his own...to get them money. suddenly, he was trying to find a way to pay rent, his sister’s rehab bills AND tuition for st judes so it was back to dealing.

YOUNG ADULT (18 - 23) 

easily the hardest years of his life. his young adult years have been stress, after stress, after stress, but he’s also not one to ask for help. still being massively successful in music, he threw himself into his rising fame with his albums ‘BELIEVE’ and ‘PURPOSE.’ 

any chance he got to act like a kid and forget about the responsibility he has, he takes it. whether that’s getting into petty fights, dating around, getting too drunk or acting impulsively. 

pressure from both being a big name at the academy and from his family has driven him to darker places. he’s struggled - multiple times - to have healthy romantic connections because he’s used to people being dependant on him; starting with his own mother. the minute somebody gets too attached or asks too much of him, he’ll lash out. on the flip side though, he likes to be needed. 

mental pressure is mainly what led his last relationship to become abusive and after that, he hit rock bottom. believe it or not, it’s definitely learnt behaviour and the last position he wanted to find himself in. 

dallas’s mental health has taken the biggest blow. after a handful of seriously failed relationships and having no home life anymore, he was diagnosed with depression mid-2020. something else he rejects intensely. he refuses to have the same diagnosis as his dad and refuses to speak of it or tell anyone or ask for help. 

TW: SUICIDE 

2020 and early 2021 had him make two separate suicide attempts that were recorded in the press as drug overdoses. the truth of the matter is that he isn’t an addict. he takes drugs but isn’t a slave to them. he doesn’t want to ruin his life or become numb to it; just end it. 

END OF TW

in more recent months, dallas has picked up on his music career again and is STILL trying his best to support his parents and pay margo’s withstanding rehab bills. after being in hospital, the academy have forced him to go to therapy, something he does privately and this accounts for him slowly improving in his behaviour again but he’s definitely forever on thin ice with how his life’s going.

#character saves #my favourite always

[bibliothesoph]

these days (let’s talk about your mental health)

There’s sunlight streaming through the window––too bright for however early in the morning it is right now. Henry goes to move his arms over his eyes to block out the vicious light, but his arms won’t budge. His eyes snap open then shut again because the light is practically blinding, but he gets his vision back (for the most part) after a minute of blinking. It’s a white room which is probably why it felt so bright. There’s a window to his right letting a sunny day in New York into the room, but it’s not his window and this isn’t his room. This might not even be anyone’s room at all. Based on the weird, cheap-looking picture of a watering can full of plants, he guesses that it’s some impersonal room that hundreds of people filter through. And it smells clean––too clean. Like bleach.

Something’s beeping to his left so he looks over and sees what looks and sounds like a heart rate monitor there. There’s an IV drip, too, that he follows to the back of his hand. His hands are cuffed in some sort of white material that wraps around his wrists and tie into the bed somewhere. His feet, it feels like, are in the same boat. He tries to sit up but he can’t fucking move and there’s no one in here to help him. Where’s Alex? What happened? Why is he here and why is he in restraints? He feels his breathing go shallow and rapid like he can’t get air. He has no idea what’s happening and he’s terrified and alone and where is Alex?

The door opens and, like he somehow conjured him with his mind, Alex is standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand and cup of water in the other. He looks sad––teary-eyed, puffy-faced, downturned lips.

“Alex?” he asks in a hoarse voice.

Alex’s head instantly snaps up and looks at him. His lips turn into a slight, sympathetic smile as he moves over to the seat by Henry’s bed, setting the drinks down on the small table and taking one of Henry’s hands in his own. “You really awake this time?”

Henry furrows his brow, completely baffled. He doesn’t remember any other times. “I think so,” he says.

Alex strokes the back of Henry’s hand with the pad of his thumb. Gently––like Henry might break. “You were out for a while. I’m glad you’re back, though.”

Henry shakes his head because he still has no idea what’s going on. He doesn’t feel like he was in an accident of some kind––he doesn’t feel any physical pain. He’s got a headache, but it feels more like from his brain going into overdrive than from some sort of external damage. Also, an accident wouldn’t warrant the use of these restraints. That’s probably the most troubling part about all of this. “What happened?”

Alex sighs and leans down to kiss Henry’s knuckles. “There was a bit of an incident,” Alex explains. “You don’t remember?”

Henry shakes his head.

“Why am I here? Why am I in restraints? Alex, what’s going on?”

“Shh,” Alex coos, using his other hand to push some of the hair off of Henry’s forehead. “I’ll explain everything, okay?”

Henry nods, silently agreeing to stay quiet as Alex explains what’s going on.

“When I got home last night, I couldn’t find you for a while,” Alex begins. His voice is thick with emotions and, for a moment, Henry almost wants to tell him to stop talking if it hurts him so much, but Henry needs to know what’s going on. “I found you out on the balcony and I don’t know if you had been drinking or what was going on, but you clearly weren’t yourself. You were saying all kinds of things––worrisome things. It––it scared me to see you like that, you know? You were crying and on this long tangent about your work and the world and all of this stuff and then you just sort of…collapsed. Into my arms.” Alex pauses and wipes at his eyes. “I called Shaan because I thought he might know what to do. Like maybe this was something that had happened before? Anyway, we brought you here to see what was going on. The restraints were more of a precaution than anything because…you were pretty worked up. When you came to, you kept crying and trying to leave and you kept saying you were fine but…”

Henry squeezes his hand. He doesn’t remember a single moment of this, but he believes Alex with all his heart. He knows that he’s the kind of person to be reluctant to accept help, even when he needs it, so it makes a sort of sense to him. He doesn’t think he was drinking, though. Or, at least, he doesn’t recall drinking. Maybe he was drinking, though? Maybe that would explain the headache?

“Do they know what happened?”

Alex shrugs. “They have theories, I guess. They didn’t find alcohol in your system, though. They think it might have been some combination of dehydration and exhaustion. I had to tell them that you hadn’t been sleeping much recently and about how you feel sometimes.”

Henry nods and tries to process this. It seems possible that the way his mind is contributed to this little incident, at least partially. He’s had a few experiences with this sort of thing before––times where he isn’t sleeping or drinking enough water and his thoughts just get louder and louder until he doesn’t even remember anything but what he’s shouting at himself inside. It’s like he’s hearing himself scream over and over again but no one ever hears him––no one’s there to help him. He’s never really seen it as an issue before, though. Everyone he’s known has periods where they’re not themselves. And he’s sure he could remember what happened if he wasn’t feeling so drowsy from what was most likely a sedative.

“You okay?” Alex asks. Alex scoffs at himself and shakes his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question. I mean, obviously you’re not okay. It’s just…what can I do? Besides get you out of here?”

Henry stares at him for a moment, so overwhelmed with love for him that he can hardly stand it. “I don’t know,” he tells him honestly.

Alex nods thoughtfully and thinks about it for a moment. “Can I make a suggestion that you totally don’t have to listen to?”

Henry nods.

“I think you should see someone.”

“I’ve got a therapist an––”

“No. I mean, I’m sure that’s good, too, but I mean, like, someone that can get you help. A diagnosis, maybe? Medication?”

It’s not something he’s ever talked about. Mental health. His family very pointedly ignores and sidesteps all conversations about it because, well, he’s a prince, right? He’s not supposed to be sick. But he’s not really sick, is he? Not in the way the Queen and Philip might see it. He’s struggling––he knows he’s struggling. And medicine or at least some sort of plan on how to deal with it will probably help him. When he thinks about it, it seems silly that he hasn’t thought of it before. It’s something he should have done as soon as he came to New York and didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to go to a doctor.

When he’s discharged from the hospital, they get a referral for someone he can go meet with and talk to about how his brain works and the thoughts that sometimes drown him. Alex goes with him, of course, but waits outside with Shaan while Henry steps into the office. It’s a nice place––very private and cozy. Not half as clinical as he thought it would be. The doctor––Dr. Sanders––smiles at him warmly when he comes in and gestures for him to sit in an oversized armchair across from her.

“I have to admit,” Henry chuckles as he sits down, “I think my boyfriend will be offended that there isn’t a sofa or a chaise lounge or something in here.”

Dr. Sanders smiles at him and writes something down. “Your boyfriend might watch too many soap operas.”

“I’ll have to have a word with him about that, won’t I?”

She smiles again and offers her hand to him. “I’m Doctor Sanders,” she says as he shakes her hand. “Are you ready to begin?”

It’s only an hour-long and it’s mostly just Henry explaining how he feels and the various coping strategies he’s used in the past that don’t seem to work all that well. By the end of it, he’s holding his breath while she smiles at him and starts to tell him her thoughts and next steps they can take.

Depression.

It’s the first time someone’s said it aloud to him.

She explains what this means both in general and for him as an individual. It’s oddly comforting to hear someone talk to him about this sort of thing so openly. Alex has done a wonderful job as being as supportive and understanding as possible, but it’s not really the same. It’s not a diagnosis. It’s not a word that Henry can hold onto and repeat and know why he is the way he is. And the doctor explains that, from the sounds of it, it’s something he’s been dealing with for a while. At least since his dad died. And maybe it’s silly, but he feels like there’s a weight being lifted off his chest when she talks him through different possibilities for medications and coping strategies.

When he leaves her cozy office, he has a slip of paper in one hand and a smile on his face. Alex stands as soon as Henry reenters the waiting room and wraps him up in a massive hug.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Alex tells him into the crook of his neck. “You’re so brave.”

Henry kisses his cheek and shows him the paper. “There’s a word,” he says with a smile.

Alex––still smiling––tilts his head. “A word for what?”

“For me,” Henry tells him. “For what I am––for how my brain works. I––Alex, I have depression.”

“And that makes you happy?” Alex asks. There’s no malice or judgment in his voice––just baffled curiosity.

Henry nods and kisses him. “Very.”

Alex makes Shaan stop on the way home so they can get the prescription filled. And Here knows that it’s going to be a long journey of finding the right medication and that there are some rough patches in front of him, but he’s got Alex’s hand in his own and a word he can use to describe the swirl of emotions that have been churning inside of him for so long now.

Depression.

Christ, it just feels so wonderful to know that he’s not alone––that this diagnosis puts him in a never-ending group of people who are just like him. It fills him with hope to know that there are people he can talk to about this––people that will understand his occasional bouts of melancholy and non-responsiveness. Even though he knows that Philip and his gran would never approve, he doesn’t even care.

He’s Henry, the Prince of Wales, and he has depression.

And he’s going to make damn sure that he uses that to help other people like him.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #prince henry of wales #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #mental health #support #depression #getting help #fanfic #one shot

[samcantdate]

I was catfished 😬 PART 1

That’s right... Someone from the internet tricked me into believing they were someone they weren’t for three whole months. I thought I basically loved this person, but their numerous inconsistencies led me to dive deep on the internet and find out the truth. Buckle up, because this one is a doozie, and as of yesterday, has popped back into my life to get even more bizarre. This is going to have to be sectioned into parts, because it’s just so much information, even when I condense it down.

So, how did it start? I have an on-again-off-again addiction to mobile war games... the kind that are quite expensive 😅. In fact, my last relationship (the one that lasted a year and a half and I moved across the country for the dude) started on a mobile war game. Anyway, for me, it’s not weird to befriend or date people from online. 

COVID had been getting to me, and I was feeling bored and lonely, so I decided to start playing a new mobile game. I quickly joined a group, and became friends with the people I was playing with, as we pretty much all spoke all day. One person from the game, Nial, was an attractive, muscular Welsh guy, with lots of tattoos, and a cute smile... Honestly, most people’s type, but I tried to steer clear, despite the fact he clearly was showing he wanted my attention. When I decided to quit the game somewhat out-of-the-blue, Nial found me on Instagram, and provided emotional support while I was going through a depressive episode. We became fast friends, talking all day everyday, through text alone. He was insanely easy to open up to, and amazingly understanding... within weeks, he knew my deepest secrets that I hadn’t shared with ANYONE. Every trauma that had happened to me, my mental health struggles, and embarrassing details. Nial told me all about his daughter, Karly, who was apparently actually his ex-gf’s daughter, but she felt closer to Nial. This is the first thing that struck me as odd, because she was supposedly 17, and he was 29. He said his ex was 34, and had er at 16. Soon, she too was following me on Instagram.

The one catch with Nial, aside from the part where he lived an ocean away in Wales, was that he was a depressive addict. As a natural empath, I am drawn to those with painful stories, and seek to understand them. Nial had told me at length all about how he found his dead mother’s body after she overdosed, when he was just a child, and how his abusive father didn’t want him and gave him up to the system. His life and childhood massively pulled at my heartstrings, and I could understand his suicidal tendencies, and desire to drown his life in alcohol and drugs. Some nights or mornings, I wouldn’t be able to get ahold of Nial, and would fear the worst. That’s when Karly and I formed a friendship. She would contact me if he was missing, or I would contact her if I hadn’t heard from him. Countless nights I had to message her to ask her to pick Nial up from some random location, drunk or strung out. The two of them became huge parts of my life.

When Nial confessed he had feelings for me other than friendly, I was honestly relieved, because I was feeling the same way. He started writing me poems, talked about the future, and would make plans for future trips to America with Karly to come see me. 

Like, these are actual messages from him... you can see how he had a way with words:

However, some things just weren’t adding up. I kept asking for a FaceTime call, which Nial would agree to and “plan,” but it would end up never happening. I’d send voice clips, but get none in return. I would hardly ever get even photos, meanwhile I was sending photos and videos of my daily life! Anytime I would bring this up, Nial subsequently have some sort of episode and go off the rails with drugs. Then he’d come back, and tell me how much he loves me and needs me and he just can’t send pictures or voice clips, because he is embarrassed about how fucked up he would look and sound, and he needs to get clean “for me” to be “what I deserve,” first. This would assuage my misgivings for a few days, but I’d inevitably start demanding proof again shortly after.

Three months into the madness, Nial pulled a stunt while I was at my grandmother’s funeral in another state. Karly frantically messaged me saying he was missing and left her some sort of suicide note, and he had done somewhat the same to me. I stayed up all night trying to help Karly figure out where he was after she supposedly called the police, and even posted a photo of him on her story with a case reference number. After I got Nial to finally tell me where he was, and Karly assured me the police had taken him to the hospital, I knew I needed to figure out the truth. The entire situation was just so dramatic and, frankly, unbelievable, that I knew there were lies upon lies.

I, and even my best friend, had attempted multiple internet investigations prior, but this time, I was not giving up until I found something....anything.

To be continued in PART 2

🖤Sam

#catfish #catfished #catfishing #dating blog #dating #blogger #blog #my story #mtv catfish #this should be a movie

[leaves-of-three]

I Saw Dear Evan Hansen Today

Things I found interesting:

I noticed there was a bit of a divide between the types of people there. I saw a lot of young people who were clearly very passionate and giddy about what they were about to see. I couldn’t help but smile every time I saw their faces light up with excitement before the doors were opened or as they chatted before the show started. It reminded me so much of myself in middle and high school (this show would have been a true savior to me back then). I was sat next to a 12 year old girl. She told me she was in a theater group and had been waiting for this show for over a year. I told her I had also been waiting a year with my tickets and I hoped the show was everything she could have imaged and more. 

I saw older people who had a quiet, reserved but deep connection in there eyes. It was as if they carried something heavy with them through the doors and knew what they were about to watch would bring out old, closed off emotions. I don’t know why but I was surprised by how many 60+ people were there. Maybe I didn’t expect them to relate to a show about a modern day teen, but then again, maybe that was my own biased shining through. It made me remember to be more open minded and that everyone has their own struggles regardless of age.

I saw many members of the lbtq+ community with pride shirts or rainbow bands. I noticed out of everyone in the crowds, they seemed to smile the most at others around them. It made me feel a bit more at home.

Then there were...how do I describe them? Imagine rich, white dad’s who have a beautiful summer beach house in Martha’s Vineyard and drink expensive red wine with every meal. Aka imagine Larry Murphy but slightly intoxicated and wearing a polo shirt with a popped collar at 45 yrs old. The theater served alcohol so you could visibly tell that certain people were getting more drunk as the night went on. These were the kind of men that when I looked at them, I felt a bit nervous. Like if we were in high school, they were the popular jocks who shove people like Evan into lockers and laugh. And that’s what I found most telling about them...when they laughed. Clearly DEH has many comedic moments and timing throughout the musical to help break a bit of tension. But these people would laugh at parts that weren’t meant to be funny. They were laughing at lines that, when I heard them for the first time, made my heart ache because I understood and felt the underlining pain behind the words. It was so plain and obvious that those people had never once in their life felt anything close to that. Like they didn’t have the capacity or empathy to relate to what was being said. It wasn’t nervous laughing or not being sure how to react to a situation. It was laughing because they genuinely found it funny. 

I brought my mom to see the play. I knew her and I had gone through something so similar to Evan and Heidi (the depression, anxiety, suicide part...not the fabricating a massive lie to a grieving family part...obviously...) and I thought it would be a really beautiful way to bond and experience it together (it was). Anyway, but after the show, she turned to me and asked “Why were some people laughing when that mother was talking about her dead son or when that boy dropped his note card and was crying on the ground? Why was that funny? It was breaking my heart. How come they laughed?” The fact that even she picked up on it was really telling. Also don’t blame her for not knowing character’s name. She’s awful at names and it was her first time going into the story. 

I don’t really have a point to this. It was just some observations I picked up on of the people around me. I might talk more about the play itself later after it all sinks in. It was truly a beautiful night. I’m happy I got to experience it with my mom. I’m happy I was alive to see it. I’m happy this play exists for people, like me, who needed to feel a connection to someone who also survived despite what their brain was telling them. 

Thank you, Evan Hansen. 

If you happen to read this far, please know that I’m in your corner. I care about you. I want you to succeed. I want you to be healthy. And if you ever need to talk, even if I’m just some stranger on the internet, that I’m willing to listen. 

Take care of yourself and good night. 

#dear evan hansen #evan hansen #deh #connor murphy

[jswdmb1]

Identical

I don't just know you, I've grown like that too...

If I don't dislike you, I'm withdrawn, unrighteous too...

I’m no prophet, I'm your friend

Take my advice, make your mistakes”

- Phoenix

Every four years, the PBS series “Frontline” presents an episode called “The Choice”.  It presents the two candidates running in that particular presidential election.  But, it is not a show about the current campaign, policy issues or even the politics behind the particular candidates.  It is instead a personal biography of each candidate up to the point of the current election told chronologically.  The show portrays each individual’s story back and forth as the years go on that allow the viewer to both understand the people behind the front their campaigns present, but also provides a unique opportunity to compare and contrast the two candidates.  I have watched this particular episode of Frontline in every presidential election dating back to 2000, and I find it to consistently be the single best source of information for me to decide (or confirm) which candidate I am to support in that year’s election.

I was going to pass on this year’s version as I didn’t think there was anything I could learn about either man, and my choice is already made, but I watched anyway.  I have to admit that I was surprised to pick up nuggets of information that were new to me such as that Joe Biden’s first wife and daughter were killed six weeks after his election to the Senate for the first time, or that Donald Trump’s mother fell ill when he was very small and was effectively absent for his nurturing years.  Those are facts that seemingly are unimportant when weighing which man to support in a presidential election, but I think we have all found out in the last four years that an individual’s personality, temperament, and morality are just as important as their stance on any issue or their knowledge of the inner workings of government.  In the example of this year’s election, it finally crystallized the stark difference between Joe Biden and Donald Trump that has made my decision for whom to vote so easy.

Let’s start with the challenger Biden.  If there are two things that are clear about Joe, it is 1) he makes a lot of mistakes, and 2) he has overcome quite a bit of adversity of the years whether they are of his own doing or not.  You can watch the show to see the examples of both, but Biden’s approach to problems in his life has been remarkably consistent.  First, he acknowledges the problem exists and that he has responsibility to address it.  Next, if it was a problem of his own doing, he owns up to it.  Often times, he does this quite clumsily and occasionally makes things worse, but he does, at a minimum, take responsibility.  Finally, once it is out there, he puts his head down and gets to work with an amazing ability to ignore the long odds that he may face or the chirping he hears in the background about how badly he messed up and/or how he will never make it right.  He simply has a fundamental belief that humans make mistakes and he is no exception to that rule.  At times, it would be refreshing if he demonstrated better that he learns from some of these mistakes so as not to repeat them, but there is at least a good faith effort even if the execution at times is mediocre.

There is no need to go into detail how Trump behaves whenever he is faced with a problem and it is well documented that he never admits to making a mistake (and likely doesn’t even believe he has ever made one).  There are daily examples of this behavior and running through the list at this point is massively unappealing.  What I do find interesting is why he is this way.  The show goes into great detail about the influence three men have had on his life. The first is his father Fred.  We all know his background and his ruthlessness in business and within his personal relationships and this was applied to each of his sons.  The first, Fred Jr., bristled at the notion of going into the family business, and became an airline pilot instead (a decision for which both father and brother Donald would mock him mercilessly and drove him to alcoholism and an early death).  Fred Sr. then set his sights on son #2 who was more than willing to take up the cause.  After a stint in military school that hardened his outlook on life and reduced what little emotional capacity he had, he moved into his father’s footsteps and practiced the approach that personal gain is everything and little else matters.

The second man was a lawyer named Roy Cohn.  Cohn rose to fame in the 1950s as Joseph McCarthy’s hatchet man in the blacklisting of innocent American citizens for unfounded (and mostly false) accusations of communism.  Despite the shame eventually brought upon him for that role, he rose to become one of the most powerful attorneys in New York.  A client of his was a young Donald Trump and Cohn taught him three things that helped him rise from the ashes: 1) deny anything that makes you look bad as even having happened 2) attack those that bring these things up and deflect the blame elsewhere, and 3) never take responsibility for your actions unless there is a transactional gain that serves you.  This has been Donald Trump’s blueprint his entire life and it can be found in his business, his marriages, and certainly his presidency.  He literally has never operated in a manner that is different in any aspect of his life, so the fact that this has come through during his time in the White House should be surprising to no one who witnessed him before his election.

The final man was the Rev. Norman Vincent Peale who was the pastor at the church Donald Trump attended for over 50 years.  Peale’s claim-to-fame was the publishing of a book The Power of Positive Thinking and the Trumps followed it like their bible.  Boiled down, the main tenant of the book was that one must think positively at all costs and negative thoughts must be barred from the mind or success cannot be achieved.  That seems okay on the surface, but it becomes a problem when situations require more effort than simply a good thought and a wish that it goes away.  This clearly explains Trump’s complete inability to handle the COVID-19 pandemic.  Even though he obviously intellectually understood the severity and danger of the virus from his recordings on the Woodward tapes, this brainwashing of Peale on the Trump family made it impossible for Donald to acknowledge that the problem existing in any way.  When combined with Cohn’s teachings on taking no responsibility and Fred Sr.’s example of bulldozing past anyone who disagrees with you (like a scientist or doctor), the end result of his response makes a lot of sense.  It’s why even when catching the disease himself, he views it as a positive event that only he could dream up.

I do find it curious that I spent three long paragraphs on Trump with only one brief paragraph on Biden, but that meshes with each approach they have on the basic issues of life as a human being which is confronting adversity and accepting that we do make mistakes.  Biden’s approach is simple and to the point, sometimes to a fault.  Trump has this complicated troika of mad men’s teachings running through his head when problems come up and it is no wonder he is paralyzed with inaction when it comes time to do something about it.  For me, this is the defining trait between the two men that seems to tower over everything else about them personally or this election in general.  The question then is what do we do with this information.

I’m certain it is obvious which way I am going to go, but it may surprise you why.  You see, I have struggled myself with some of these same issues that each man has faced.  Up until a few years ago, I actually would describe myself as really being more Trump-like in my approach to life than I really care to admit.  I rarely acknowledged I was wrong and often blamed others for problems that were within and could only be solved by the guy responsible for them in the first place – me.  This attitude prevented me from seeing what was the real root of my unhappiness and depression and did not allow for me to acknowledge that my drinking and moderate drug use had become a problem.  It wasn’t until everything broke down and I ended up in an intense six-week program of therapy and deep soul searching that I discovered that mistakes we make are what builds us up and not what tears us down.  Granted, we need to learn from those mistakes to become better people and achieve great things, but admitting responsibility is the only path to doing either of those things.  I know now after a few years that I will never get things totally right, but I can get up each day and at least try to improve on the one before.  At a minimum, I strive to not make things worse, and it all gives me strength to fight whatever demons I have head on.  It’s a trial-and-error approach for sure, but I don’t see how it can be done any other way.

And given where things are at now, I don’t see how any other approach can help us overcome the enormous problems we face at this time whether it be COVID-19, or the economy, or global warming, or any other massive threat we face right now.  There is no amount of positive thinking that will help us overcome any one of these things and clearly wishing the problems away (or denying they even exist) is not going to work.  We need someone who understands this and there is no doubt the current president has no ability to do so.  Joe Biden may not be perfect, and he is not going to get us all of the way there on likely any one thing, but we have to start somewhere.  And, if there is one thing that he is good at, it is looking at a big hill, putting his head down, and climbing up.  It’s not pretty, and it isn’t the easy thing to do, but it is what we need right now more than anything.  

That is a tough pill to swallow for many Americans who think their freedom is a birthright that requires no effort, but that fantasy has been squashed.  In three weeks, the choice is clear about what needs to be done and the decision is up to you: are you going to acknowledge fault and accept responsibility for our collective actions that have led us to this point and vote for Joe, or are you going to give Trump another four years by simply wishing that all our problems away (spoiler alert – they don’t)?  The politically correct thing to say at this point is that either way you decide please make sure you vote, but I cannot apply that here.  The stakes are too high and the path is too obvious – either vote for Joe or don’t vote at all.  That second option may be tough for some people to take, but consider it your first step on a long road to recovery and redemption not just for yourself but our nation.

Good luck, everyone, we are going to need it.

-        Jim

[hide-the-cutlery]

The next two days are going to suck.

I’m out of pills. Well, not completely out. I have about 8 of my anxiety pills left — to last me 3 weeks. I’m supposed to take 3 a day. So I have those, and some otc pills that take me out of myself a little, but I have to be careful with those, because, for me, they can trigger panic. I can pick up my pain meds in 2 days, but they usually makes me puke. I thought I was doing better this month with my usage, but I guess not. Then there’s more anxiety pills that supposedly help with my alcohol cravings, which aren’t a controlled substance, so I can probably get those next week. None of this really matters, because I don’t have shit now.

I’m so medicated. Even if I took everything as prescribed, I’d probably be an incoherent mess. I’m a master manipulator with doctors, which I’m simultaneously proud of and ashamed of. I know how to get what I want, within reason. It’s all about building a rapport with them and finding that sweet spot where they believe you need what you’re getting and never trying to push for more. I tried a few times to get another of my anxiety pills a day, but my psychiatrist pushed back and changed something else instead, so I knew I had to drop it.

What boggles my mind is that I’m a fucking alcoholic (addict), and these medical professionals still throw potentially dangerous, addicting medication at me. What pisses me off is how much they don’t listen. I saw my psychiatrist yesterday and brought a list of things I wanted to talk about with him, since the appointments go so fast. I wanted to explain my racing thoughts keeping me from completing simple tasks. My complete lack of impulse control. My delusional beliefs that the universe is trying to get back at me for being a shitty person. That I’ll stay up all night (sometimes for 2-3 nights in a row) and do things like clean. Even if I lay down, turn off everything, and pray for sleep, I just can’t. The fact that I didn’t finish my cleaning (or whatever I started) gets in my head and makes rest impossible. His solution? Let’s increase your seroquel again.

Scary things are starting to happen. Sometimes I go on a “bender” in a store(s), and I don’t remember when, how, what I got, etc. My memory needs to be jogged sometimes. This past time I got twelve bottles of body wash, for a total of 29. And that’s not including hairspray, hair gel, hair accessories, dry shampoo, lotion, makeup, nail polish, and a fuckton of clothes. I am out of control. It’s funny — I want to lose a little more weight (I just lost ~25lbs), but then all the clothes I’ve acquired won’t fit, so the fruits of my labor will be spoiled. I’ll have to start over. That is literally my thought process, and it’s so fucked. Stores know me. They watch me. They follow me. They know my fucking name and know what I do. And honestly, I just don’t care. I mean I care because I don’t want to get caught again, but the odds are seemingly in my favor. Even the LP woman where I actually got the cops called on me said “we’ve been watching you a long time, but you’re too good.” Not saying that as something to brag about, just recalling what happened. Also, I recognize when someone is trying to manipulate me. She was trying to get me to confess to other things because what they must have had on me would never hold up in court. I am not stupid. I don’t know what I did that time to allow them to catch me, but clearly I slipped up somewhere. Either that, or they just went with it, hoping I’d confess. Which I did. I cooperated; hopefully it helps me in the end. I was watching trashy tv this morning, and a woman mentioned she went to jail for two months for petty theft. The host of the show even seemed shocked by that. Maybe she had priors or other factors that played into it. But yeah, I can’t go to jail! It’s not an excuse, and if you look at my actions alone, yeah, maybe I deserve to go to jail, too. But (prepare yourself for some massive excuses) I’m sick. I don’t do it because I want material things. I don’t think I am above the law. I’m not trying to make some pathetic stand against capitalism. I just can’t control my impulses, and I’m sick. I’m working with my therapist, my psychiatrist (at least I make an effort to), and some women in AA to get help, and nothing is working. I thought after I got caught, I’d stop, and for a while, I did. But that apparently wasn’t enough, either. It’s a compulsion — fighting it is futile. It actually started out as excessive spending, but I ran out of the means to keep that up, so now it’s this. I know it’s because of my issues with addiction and mental health. I don’t see it any differently than drinking, drug use, sex, or whatever. It’s an alternative to drinking. I can’t do that anymore, so this filled the void. Every time I have spent money excessively or done this, I haven’t been drinking. The object of my addiction (for me, at least), bounces around until I can’t do that thing anymore, and my brain holds up a sign that says NEXT in glowing, red letters. Like a “no vacancy” sign at a shitty motel.

I know before I went on that little tangent, I was listing some things that are scaring me. Sometimes, after I wake up, I’ll check my phone and find that I tried to write, but it’s total jibberish. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing time. I don’t know where the days go; I wake up and (try to) go to bed. I’ll start to do something, my mind will go blank, and I won’t remember what I was doing. I’m stumbling all over the place. I’ll try to have conversations (usually in the morning), and I’ll be able to hear myself slurring. I seem to talk without thinking. An example: I’ll be in a room with only one other person, talking to them, but it will feel like part of myself has separated from me and is screaming “You LIAR! Shut the fuck up! That’s not true and you know it. Quit pulling things out of your ass and tell the fucking truth. Drop the whole facade; you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, nor do you believe what you’re saying. You’re pathetic. Spineless. You’re fake.” I swear I couldn’t pick myself out of a lineup sometimes.

I feel that third presence with me frequently, but recently it hit a new level of intensity. I had a few job interviews a couple weeks ago and I found myself exaggerating the truth so much that it made me feel uncomfortable. All I could hear in my head was “LIAR LIAR LIAR”. (And forcing myself to make unwavering eye contact made me feel ill.) I tried to tell myself that’s just how interviews go, and that they weren’t really lies at all, just maybe a few embellishments, but I cannot listen to myself when I’m being rational. Irrationality is really all I know lately. I ended up taking a position with a company that seemed sketchy as hell, but I was desperate. I’m tired of being broke and needed the money so badly that it would have been absolutely foolish of me to decline the offer. The me who showed up to those interviews and got hired was not the me who showed up on the first day. The embellishments and feigned self-confidence were gone — all that was left was pitiful, anxious me with one foot out the door in case I had a panic attack and who won’t look you in the face, much less make eye contact. The more and more I learned about the position and the company, the more I wanted out. It turned out to be door-to-door sales, which was not how the job was described in the interviews. If there ever were a job that wasn’t for me, that’d be it. The leader of my team obviously noticed and basically let me quit. So I’m back to being unemployed. Oh well, it was a life lesson. I’m also back to being broke (not that I ever wasn’t). I didn’t even get paid for my training! I’m doing worse and worse things to get a few bucks here and there. It’s shameful. I would have declined the position on the spot, but my family is pushing me so hard to go back to work full time that I couldn’t in good conscience say thanks, but no thanks. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t think I’m ready. Sadly, you can’t look at someone and see what’s going on in their mind. If they could do that, I’m pretty sure they’d back off. I’ve been telling them I have to make my own decisions, and my priority is getting some help with my mental health. That didn’t really go over well. They think I’m capable because I had my shit (somewhat) together a few years ago, but it’s not a few years ago anymore. I’m still recovering and struggling. The tension in this house is almost tangible, and it’s completely my fault. Well, it’s my fault in the sense that I’m not where they want or expect me to be. It’s not that I don’t want to work or contribute financially. I do. I want a normal existence, but “this life I loathe is in my way”.

So because of all this, I’ve decided to look at getting a complete psych evaluation. I’ve never been given any kind of diagnoses aside from issues with depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. I know that’s not all that’s going on. I’ve had potential diagnoses thrown around like bipolar disorder, BDP, OCD tendencies, suppressed memories of trauma... I’m sure the pills don’t help (“but it sure is funny”). I take them because I can’t handle day to day functioning. Every day it feels like there’s a crisis, and I’ve felt this way long before I ever took a swig of vodka or popped some pills. When I discovered those things, nothing seemed as intense anymore. I stopped jumping at my own shadow. No wonder I’m an addict.

#Addiction #Meds #Pills #Mental Health #Personal #Long Post

[coureirsix]

26, 40, 47, and 50 for v :3

i love u // courier asks

what’s their d&d alignment?

Chaotic good, most likely. the boy tries… which counts for something.

in conversation, are they kind? gentle? sarcastic? rude? do they speak warmly and openly with people, or are they more guarded? do they talk a lot?

pre-getting shot he was definitely a lot more open and warm just because like, the rest of the squadron were people he’d grown up with, basically, so there was just this amicable environment where post-getting shot is just like. Who Are You. so if he was already emo and edgy as fuck he’s moreso after. big F…

what are their vices? are they an alcoholic, a thief, a hoarder?

serial chainsmoker. doesn’t drink whatsoever. he’s also. depressed to a degree. just kind of thrives on the negativity. 

what’s their happiest memory?

under a readmore for abuse cw’s

this is fucked up but the exact day he decided to run away for the ncr, at like 16, was also the only day that his mom went out of her way to make something for an early dinner that she knew he absolutely loved. so they had blamco mac and cheese and she made him this like, fruit salad with things that weren’t readily available for them. and it was great and she was really excited that he was excited and it was a really good afternoon spent together. probably one of the few times he saw his mom genuinely happy.

the issue came when his dad got back later. his dad was wasted and the steaks that he’d expected weren’t done on time because she’d been busy with vincent so as he was trying to sleep he was treated to the sounds of a struggle. and his mom had begged him to stop going outside when he’d overhear things. so his hands were tied and he really couldn’t go out there to do anything. the next morning his mom greeted him with the same excited happiness she’d had the previous day when they were cooking, but you know, it was so clearly a facade. she’d had the massive bruise between her cheek and her jaw. 

he doesn’t remember any of  that, but that’s what it was. 

#arcadeigannon #these are not the asks you are looking for

[zee-isaiah-pugnacious7-blog]

In Defense of Junpei Iori

I want to start off by saying this is my own thoughts on the character. Whether you like/hate this character is your own personal opinion; respect my opinion, and I will respect yours. Thank you.

So, Junpei. The token comedy-relief/best-buddy of Persona 3. Friendly, funny, charming and sharing the same voice-actor as Edward Elric (plus several others), he is one of the more memorable characters of the series...

And yet... a lot of people seem to hate him. More often than not, some people comment that he’s one of the most annoying characters in the game! 

Ironically, my boyfriend--- who first introduced me to the Persona series--- was the one who brought up Junpei being a lousy character (He later took it back after noticing how similar the character is--- not even joking, they have similar issues at their homes). But it wasn’t because he thought Junpei was annoying--- it was mainly because... well, Junpei sucked on his team. 

My Boyfriend: Good luck having Junpei on your team. He wouldn’t follow my commands, kept dying, blah blah blah...

Me: *after playing the game* Dude, Junpei is a tank on my team! I’m not even giving him commands, and he’s helping heal the group, he can take a blow, yadda yadda...

(Maybe they can just tell when a girl is playing the game XD)

I get the feeling that’s one reason why people don’t like Junpei--- they have trouble with him on the team. ...Then again, if that were the case, wouldn’t everyone have at least one [other] character they hated having on their team? I guess, depending on the equipment, commands and experience, the characters you choose vary in performance.

...But c’mon guys, how many of us got angry at Mitsuru and her overuse of ‘Marin-Karin/Tentarafoo’? THE COMICS ARE EVERYWHERE!

Me: Okay, Mitsuru--- the Shadow is weak to Ice. Watch me use Bufu. *casts it, destroys enemy* See? Easy. Use Bufu skills. BUFU skills.

Mitsuru: MARIN KARIN!

Me: F*CKING DAMMIT, MITSURU, YOU’RE OFF THE TEAM! 

*ahem* So, yeah, no one’s perfect ^^’

But combat-performance isn’t the only reason I see people hating on Junpei. Like I said earlier, they find him annoying--- maybe they think he’s too much of a pervert (ironic in a game where you play as a guy/girl who can f*ck several people), or maybe they think he’s an idiot (Who’s playing this game, Yukari?), but more often than not, there’s a couple things that always come up...

Junpei’s want for attention, and how he gets jealous of the Protagonist.

Lets start with the fight for attention. During the first mission, Junpei is quick to rush ahead, trying to prove his potential. (And this may be a little late but I’ve never seen all the movie adaptations yet *only the 2nd one* so I’m just going by the game storyline). Clearly he wants to be in the spotlight, and *at first* sees fighting Shadows as some sort of game, up until he realizes just how serious it really is.

But think about it--- before awakening to his Persona, Junpei was a regular teenager. The creators themselves mentioned that Junpei was a crucial character because he acted like a real teenager--- cracking jokes, getting excited about having this power... I mean, how would you react if you were a high school student and found out you had a rare power? You’d be pumped, wouldn’t you?

Meanwhile there’s Akihiko, Shinjiro, Yukari, and Mitsuru who awoke to their Personas early on (for crying out loud Mitsuru awoke to hers when she was just a little girl! She was a chibi with power!). They managed to understand the concept of their potential--- and, since they had serious stuff going on in their lives, took this responsibility to heart. (It really hits you in the feels with Shinji’s case)

Now look at Junpei’s life--- living with an alcoholic father, having little skills and low grades... chances are, he was putting on a mask *no P5 refs intended*; behind that comedic behavior and charming smile was a teen struggling with depression, feeling like he was going nowhere in life. (You all saw his moment with Koromaru in “The Answer”). He awoke to his Persona--- not because he had some ‘mission’ to fulfill, but because he wanted to find a purpose in life.

AndthenhemeetsChidoriandfallsinlovebringinguphisdreamsofbeingabaseballplayerthenshediesinordertosavehislifeandyougethitwiththefeelsandhefindsanewreasontolivegaaaaaaaahhhhh---

Sorry! Got off-track for a moment there!

Point is, the moment he gets his Persona, he feels a rush of excitement, like his life has purpose after all! (This is emphasized after Strega encounters the group, bringing up that once the Dark Hour is destroyed everyone will lose their powers). So of course he’d want to ‘show ‘em what he’s got’ and try to impress everyone, because he’s trying to prove his self-worth.

Now lets bring up the part where he gets jealous of the Protagonist. 

I can hear you all, “Of course he’s jealous--- the protag is a badass who gets all the girls and is acing the exams, etc.* SHUT UP. JUST. SHUT. UP.

First of all, think about the FIRST time you play the game--- where your stats are at an ALL TIME LOW. Your intelligence is ranked at dumbass, you’ve got as much charm as a piece of cardboard, and you have less courage than Scooby Doo!

So you’ve got a guy with zero intelligence, minimal charm, and zip courage... and yet all of a sudden he’s elected Team Leader just because he--- big shock--- awoke to his Persona and *gasp* fought Shadows! Just. Like. Everyone. Else. 

Granted, there were reasons he got the Leader rank--- Mitsuru had to stay behind at the start in order to scan for Shadow activity, Akihiko’s arm was broken, Yukari was having confidence issues, and Junpei was the new guy---

Wait a minute! The Protag was the new guy too! Why was he elected leader? Why couldn’t he and Junpei have had a rock-paper-scissors tournament to decide? What, was it because Junpei wasn’t ‘serious’ enough? I’m pretty sure putting him in a responsible position would get him serious! (...or he’d abuse his power, much like many did when playing the game *cough*BikiniWarriors*cough*)

“But the Protag can use more than one Persona!” you may argue, but I’m talking about the very start of the game--- before you start your Social Links and start acquiring more than 1 Persona (and leaving poor Orpheus behind to rot lol). Like, out of the blue, Mitsuru just says “You can be Leader until Akihiko gets better,” ...then after Akihiko heals up, it’s like “You can keep being leader, you’re doing a great job.”

Okay, maybe I’m overthinking it. If Protag didn’t get the role of leader, we’d have no gameplay. Lets stick with Junpei. 

Granted as the game goes on, your stats do improve by the time you get to the Hotel. And thus when Junpei gets jealous--- everyone fights these two massive Shadows... and the Protag is getting most of the praise. Despite any reassurance you give him, he still gets pissed and ignores you for the week.

(Me: Nuuuuuuu! Junpei, come baaaaack! I’ll buy you ramen!)

And of course this is where a lot of people consider Junpei to be annoying, for throwing a b*tch-fit about the Protagonist being hot-sh*t. 

But, lets re-analyze what I mentioned before--- fighting Shadows is all Junpei considers himself good for. Heck during this time, he realizes he’s going to be a senior by the next year... and then what? What is he going to do with his life after high school?

Also, lets bring up the fact that he’s fighting Shadows with a well-respected valedictorian (Mitsuru), the captain of the boxing-team who has fan-girls surrounding him at the start (Akihiko), the most popular girl in school (Yukari), a girl with a rare Persona who helped her survive in Tartarus for 10 days/hours (Fuuka), and an emo-hunk every woman wants to sleep with (Protagonist). 

DO YOU SEE WHAT HE HAS TO COMPETE WITH?! Throw in a robot, dog, kid and the baddest of the badasses, and you’ve got a lot of pressure on your shoulders! *granted they don’t come in until after the beach trip, but still!*

Keep in mind, these are all high-school students. If there’s one thing I remember about being in high-school, it’s that I wanted people to like me and achieve at something. There was always someone much smarter, more athletic, more creative, and more charismatic than I ever could be. (...I can hear you all making fun of me for being a geek right now. Go on, laugh it up!) 

Junpei got jealous because the New Kid became a kick-ass leader (...depending on how well you play the game...) and he’s working his a$$ off to make something of himself in order to cope with a bad home life, lack of academic potential, and whether or not he’ll have a future after graduation. 

He wasn’t just jealous, he was suffering from anxiety. If he was the least-anything on the team, he lost his motivation. It’s no different than feeling depressed because someone believed you ‘weren’t good enough’ at something. 

I believe many of us have gone through that. It really hurts, and sometimes lashing out at someone who’s ‘better’ than you is the first response; other times you just shut yourself out from others, wallowing in your self-pity, trying to figure out if you’re worth anything...

But there’s something Junpei does that not many people do.

He realizes his mistakes and apologizes. 

He realizes he rushed in too fast during the first mission, and asks for a second chance when the group goes to rescue Fuuka. 

He realizes he was faulting the Protagonist for no reason *kinda like I did a minute ago* and apologizes to him for it. 

Junpei: Sorry for being such a d*ck to you...

Me: *choosing option* Don’t Worry About It.

Junpei: *softly* Thanks bud.

Me: *while fainting* Friendship saved~! 

(okay okay, that’s the last of the fan-girling, promise!)

As the game goes on, his character development gets better. He doesn’t even try to act like a class-clown that much after meeting Chidori (as Fuuka said, he acts more like a gentleman). ...It’s only during the trip to Kyoto that he reverts back to his perverted nature :P 

(Saying it now, DAMN THOSE HOT-SPRINGS!!!)

Moving on.

It isn’t until near the end of the game that we really see him change--- and we all know the reason: Chidori. 

You’ve all seen what happened, so I’m not going into detail here! 

Point is, her sacrifice was what really helped him wake up--- he developed a new reason to not just get through life, but LIVE it. The love of his life didn’t want him to just give up--- she wanted to see him achieve his dreams and be happy. 

After that, Junpei once again apologizes to the Protagonist, letting go of his jealousy and relying on his friend to help get them through this battle against the Dark Hour. 

Because there’s a double meaning to the ‘Dark Hour’--- it’s not just some creative title for Tartarus appearing, but an analogy on how everyone is going through their darkest moments. Losing Chidori is Junpei’s Dark Hour--- and he needs his best friend to help him get through it until it’s over.

Then comes Ryoji, bearing the bad news that Nyx is coming... 

This is where I really noticed a change in Junpei’s character. He’s scared, but reacts with anger rather than humor--- everyone’s losing someone already, then all of a sudden everyone’s going to die. 

Yukari, ironically, tries to crack a joke in order to try and lighten up the tension... and Junpei blows up at her! The vice-versa of the beginning of the game! 

This is proof that Junpei had been hiding his real emotions the whole time--- once things got serious to the point where its all ‘Oh f*ck we’re all gonna die’, he dropped his class clown charade. 

“He should’ve been serious from the start!” you may argue... 

But, lets face it, we had ENOUGH serious characters--- no-nonsense Mitsuru, training-focused Akihiko, hardass Shinjiro, truth-seeking Yukari, vengeance-seeking Ken, humanity-learning Aigis... geez I think Koromaru and Fuuka were the only ones not dead-serious about something! 

As mentioned, Junpei was using humor in order to cope with things; he let out his anger at Shinjiro’s funeral, but once the grieving period passed went on with his humorous behavior, keeping enthusiastic because it was his only defense. Losing Chidori was probably his breaking point--- finding out the world was going to end in two months drove him over the edge, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

But, he chose to fight, alongside the others, even if there was a slim chance of success. He didn’t want to give up. He wanted to try--- and succeed. 

So I ask again... why do people hate on Junpei? Maybe you all have your own reasons outside of the ones I’ve listed--- whatever they are, it’s your opinion, I can’t tell you how to feel. This is just my thought on him.

Because, if you think about it, in some way we’re similar to the character. We often hide our real feelings until we just can’t take anymore. We get jealous of others, we get depressed when we can’t find a purpose in life. 

But many of us still want to try.

And I believe we shall succeed. 

Just don’t give up. 

#persona 3 #junpei iori #personal thoughts #no flames please #sorry if i rambled too much

[foiling-the-dragon-blog]

Thank you

My whole life growing up, I was led to believe that my mothers behaviors, requests and the nature of our relationship was completely normal. From promising to not inform others of the severity of her addiction (which of course was never referred to in such a way) to actively helping her hide it. A complete lack of sympathy, regard or care toward any of my feelings, invalidating me constantly and leaving me feeling that I was an issue, criticizing me, I was oversensitive, I just cried all the time, how does me coming to you in my moment of need make YOU feel? Further leaving me with feelings of inadequacy, anxiety and depression (newsflash as a mother you're supposed to be your childs safe place - and yes it is expected that you'll be there for them their whole life if they want to talk about something or confide in you) you were busy enjoying drinking or your TV show, and you couldn't be bothered with me and the duty of care you were expected to perform. ------------------------------------------- Your utter neglect towards my basic emotional needs left me with enormous issues that I'm still exploring and understanding at the age of 23. At around 18 years old my therapist pointed out that my emotional dysregulation disorder, anxiety and depression were all extremely likely to have stemmed from my childhood. I was flabbergasted. My childhood? surely not. I wasn't physically abused, i was always fed and had clothes and toys, I had two parents that stayed together! ------------------------------------------- Society equates this with a good childhood, outsiders looking in see nothing amuck. But on the inside I had a dad that worked a lot, and was quite strict, I vividly recall memories like being called disgusting as a 4-5 year old for picking my nose, scolded and told by my father he didn't want to be "anywhere near me" he would be extremely disappointed if I physically injured myself and cried, I thus developed to belief it was highly inappropriate to do so or express such emotion and tried my hardest to please my parents. ------------------------------------------- I recall another memory of being approximately age 9 and riding a scooter down my aunties street, flying straight over the handlebars and straight onto the road face first, grazing my chin, jaw and entire left side of my face, knees, hands ect. My auntie rushed over to me to see if I was okay and was in utter disbelief as I stood up bleeding not shedding a tear. She asked me If I was ok and that it was ok to cry, which i responded "no i am fine" multiple times despite still remembering how much my face was stinging and how much I DID want to cry. She actively sought my father out and asked what on earth he had "done to me" from an emotional standpoint. ------------------------------------------- Finding my mother regularly passed out from drinking too much, more often than not still in a seated position with wine spilt all over the floor still clenching her glass was just a normal occurance, loud slurred incoherent conversation and her inability to walk anywhere in a straight line, if at all. ------------------------------------------- As a teenager I started having sex very young, and couldn't stand being single. I constantly sought someone out who I could please, someone who's expectations I could meet, someone who could love me, to fill the massive and unexplainable void in my heart. I needed to feel loved and worthy, I needed it more than I needed to breathe and I'd do anything to get it. ------------------------------------------- Not knowing who to turn to or talk to I began self harming, I couldn't understand or work through my emotional turmoil, I felt low, dirty. I shouldn't be feeling so depressed and anxious, I should have a better handle on my emotions, why didn't I? I certainly couldn't burden anyone with discussing my feelings, I needed to deal with them myself behind closed doors. Not be that burden. This eventually led to my suicide attempt at age 14 or 15. I remember my dad telling me how stupid I was as I got taken to the hospital for taking all my medication at once. ------------------------------------------- It clearly failed as I'm here to type out such life events, but nothing changed much afterwards. As my dad was the breadwinner and provider he worked a lot. My mother rarely lasted longer than 6 months anywhere part time and constantly complained about any and every job she had, knowing she just didn't want to work at all, but even when that happened for years at a time she'd complain of boredom. Never satisfied and never having anything good to say about anything. Filling my head with doubts and negativity on any and every subject that would be broached. ------------------------------------------- As she continued passing out many evenings a week I would leave the house, I wouldn't go as far as to call it sneaking out, I didn't even have to try, she was so incoherent and drunk if she wasn't unconscious, it didn't matter what I did. I ended up spending night after night with "friends" men twice or more my age at 15, driving around the streets, making extremely poor life choices and wondering why I always felt so empty and used up inside. To come home, tell my mother it was time for bed as I cleaned up her mess and often cry myself to sleep. Some nights before she got too plastered to realise, she'd ask me to walk up to the nearest park to dispose of all her empty bottles as to not alert my dad to how much alcohol she had consumed. When I was older and obtained my License I was expected to go out and buy her alcohol for her, If I had a valid excuse not to, she would get extremely nasty and manipulative, spouting in disgust and anger about "everything she does for me" until I went. Having to have a blood alcohol level reading of 0 on my provisional license was not a valid excuse to my mother, fueling her own addiction was far more imperative. ------------------------------------------- As I got older, had a daughter of my own and husband of my own, he encouraged us to move back into the family home, living upstairs to save money for a house deposit, the rental market was so expensive, we'd never own a home otherwise. My relationship with my FIFO worker father is quite different to my teenage years, he adores my daughter and I trust him to have my best interests at heart even if I don't always agree with that he says or thinks. But even now I don't believe he has the capacity to see my mother for the the things she is capable of doing. ------------------------------------------- My mother is a different story, as she has aged her negativity and toxicity is no better. Waiting years for renovations to happen, even when completed she has nothing good to say and no joy to express, complaining about the job one way or another. My husband often helps my father out as they carry out these workings on the home, for about a week and a half straight they were doing some big ones, I would be out with our daughter early morning to late afternoon, he would be working all day. The house got messier than usual, the dishes piled up. Despite all the housework happening my mother couldn't help but comment on the dishes saying how "dirty" we lived expressing such dismay, "When I had you as a baby my house was ALWAYS clean" despite knowing I was out each and every day with my daughter to keep her out of the way, and that my Husband was working his butt off with my father to complete renovations on the house. ------------------------------------------- She says she loves my daughter but her actions state otherwise, she cannot be around her for more than 5 minutes without starting to swear in frustration of how much of a handful my daughter is, wanting to pawn her off on anyone who'll take her. I vividly recall asking her for favours at certain points in time, when we had appointments ect, asking her to watch her own grandchild I was often met with a horrified look, as If I'd asked if I could smear my own excrement all over her freshly painted walls. Emotional and physical support was a no no and I was and continue to be a huge burden on her behalf. Christmas day she barely interacted with my daughter, sitting in the corner on her phone scowling for most of the day. ------------------------------------------- I've been struggling so much since I had my daughter with my feelings toward my mother, the love I have for my daughter made me realise so many of the things my therapists were pointing out to me. My mother was and is toxic, manipulative and often uses emotional blackmail. I'm not allowed to express how her poor behaviour makes me feel, how awful of me to make her feel bad.. she called it "guilting" her. On the same note I'm told I am inherently selfish, yet the only reason I haven't informed her of this deep resentment and trauma is purely because of her feelings and the difficulties that would arise for her. ------------------------------------------- Since my daughter, and realizing I would literally swim through an ocean of thumbtacks if it made her feel safe, validated and happy it brought to light so many inconsistencies with my own mother and the extrodinarily small lengths she wasn't willing to go to in order to help me feel safe, validated and happy. She resents me coming to her for emotional support full stop, whenever something is done in my favour it's held over my head in contempt. ------------------------------------------- For the last 3 or so years I've failed to express this to my mother, any efforts to do so were me being mean, or resulted in a bawling argument. My resentment has grown and so has my ability to tolerate and even withstand her negative spiels, complaints and mere presence. ------------------------------------------- I will never know 100% if I had a different mother who was more compassionate and savvy to my needs if I would have developed anxiety or depression, though my therapists strongly believe it is related to my childhood.. but I know with upmost certainty my Borderline Personality Disorder (or Unstable Personality Disorder) was a direct result of her and my childhood and how I was raised, scientists and psychologists have affirmed and long since established a massive link to childhood neglect and trauma and the emergence of this personality disorder (which is believed to have no genetic link) ------------------------------------------- My mum did not give me the best start in life, and continues to do so now taking 0 acknowledgment for her part in how I've developed as a person emotionally, socially and psychologically. I struggle with my mental health a lot, it interferes with my daily life and it will be a constant uphill battle. I am now solely responsible for it and it's maintenance and ensuring I keep on the right track to better myself. ------------------------------------------- Despite everything, I do have something massive to thank my mother for; showing me how not to be. I am a better, more caring, patient and empathetic mother now because of my own. I will always acknowledge and validate my childs feelings, being there every step of the way through the good and bad. Despite my personal issues I am not going to continue this cycle, I refuse to let my child grow up how I felt. I tell her a million times a day how much I love her and how much she means to me, I'm not perfect, no where near it, but I adore that little girl with every fiber of my being and it is my upmost purpose in life to make sure I nurture her and all her needs helping her mature as a well balanced, caring, confident and happy individual. ------------------------------------------- My mother said "You wait, she's going to have so many problems because of you" and I cannot wait to prove her wrong.

[cecil-mudokon-defunct]

🔫

- A moment of crime -

There’s an incident I never told anyone about. During my… Let’s call it promiscuous days, I hit my low point. I had been stuck in this rats nest of a town for way too long. Normally I stay just long enough to make some moolah, a couple of meals and leave again before anyone even had the chance to know my name. But I wasn’t going anywhere this time. There was a drought and every person dumb enough to travel too far out of town would turn up dead.

One night I was sitting at the bar; not looking for work. I was just pissing away my time on alcohol, hoping it’d knock me out since this sultry heat was nearly impossible to sleep through without some help. And the bartender Rita was more than happy to. The older wolvark woman was the only good thing about this dump. She was always looking out for me and quickly became like family. No matter how busy she was, she always knew what I was up to somehow…

As I chucked over a fifth of oddka down, I start coughing. This stuff was burning away my esophagus, and the lungbuster smoke hanging in the air didn’t exactly help either. This place was depressing. A slig with busted up pants sitting next to me kept yapping on about giving some gluk the best years of his life, but the guy he was speaking to clearly clocked out five drinks ago. The stench of smoke, spilled drink and sweat filling the place. Staring at my glass I found it hard to even keep my eyes from crossing, so I thought it’d be a good time to head back to my room; alone for once. I began lifting myself off my stool but someone pushed me back into my seat and slapped some bills on the counter. “Two more…” Not in the mood, I rubbed my face and took a deep breath. “No… I’m good, thanks.” A deep chuckle followed in return. “You’re not leaving already, are you? I thought you were made of sturdier stuff, Tatters.” Tatters… Of all the names people could bestow on me, it had to be Tatters. I had no idea who this burly looking outlaw was, but as the only mudokon prostitute in this hole more than my name was passed around a lot. “Dude, I’m taking the night off. I’m still recuperating from yesterday.” Arching forward to relieve some of the dizziness, I suddenly felt a warm rugged hand stroking my bare back. Annoyed I push his arm away from me. “I said not tonight..” But he wasn’t taking the hint and with a repulsing grin he tried to reach under my loincloth. Pissed off I jank his hand away and shove him back with my claw. “Get it through your thick skull, I’m not doing it! Now back off before I ram some metal down your throat!” I didn’t even want to give him the time to respond so I got up and walked out. Once outside I tried to focus on where I was supposed to go, but my feet clearly had other plans and didn’t want to move anymore. I take a quick breather and slowly stumbled back to the motel I rented a small room at. Only I didn’t realize I was being followed…

Walking through the door I pushed it shut behind me. When I didn’t close, I turned around but suddenly got grabbed. Before I could even make any noise a big hand covered my mouth. It was too dark to initially see who it was, but his voice made it more than clear… “Not so feisty now, are ya?” It was him; the man from the bar. Panicking, I tried to escape but being intoxicated and held by someone twice my size and weight made getting away impossible. He violently pushed me against the wall and took the 45k revolver out of its holster. Afraid for my life I shut my eyes and turned my face away, but that hand covering my mouth immediately jerked it back; forcing me to look at him. I froze from shock. His ugly boil-ridden face just inches away from mine with the gun aimed right at me. The fear sobered me up rapidly, but I still couldn’t think straight. He pushed the barrel of the pistol into my lower jaw and slowly took his hand off my mouth. “Don’t even think of hollerin’ if you wanna keep your head…” He said through grinning lips. When it became clear I was gonna do what he said, he lowered his gun, grabbed me by the throat and shoved me on the bed…I- I don’t want to say what happened… You can probably guess what he did to me, so why bother with the details?

After he finally got what he wanted from me, I just lied there, limp, lifeless. Struggling didn’t do me any good and he already had his way… So I chose to do nothing besides patiently waiting for him to leave. My chest heaving and soaked from sweat I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I would only make his night better if I showed he had hurt me, so I stared away at the wall. “I expected more of a fight..” That bastard sounded disappointed. Good. It wasn’t much, but I took it as a small victory knowing that I didn’t play into his hand.“Shame… But it’ll make this part easier.” He could have said anything, or be more blatant with what he meant, I wasn’t listening and wasn’t going to give him the dignity of a response. “Remember what you said in the bar? Something about shoving metal down my throat? Hehe.. Well, isn’t that an idea?” Before I knew it, he jumped on top of me, pushing my arms down with his fat legs. I thought it was over, or at the very least hoped it would… But he wasn’t done with me yet.I didn’t even have the time to react and used my surprised gasp to stick the barrel of his gun in my mouth. I’ll never forget the sick, disgusting laugh of finally getting me to look at him in terror. He even seemed to get joy out of the soft squeal I made when he cocked it… I pressed my eyes shut and grabbed the sheets underneath me. I thought this would be the end… And I could do nothing but wait for it…BAM!!…I heard a shot, but nothing happened. I slowly opened my eyes; finding myself covered in blood… I slowly looked up. Seeing his head was nearly blown off. Instantly traumatized I screamed and pushed his gun-wielding hand away from my face. Kicking my legs I managed to get out from under his massive body as it fell on the floor. The light on the other side of the room instantly drew my attention. Rita stood there, breathing heavily and holding a shotgun in her hands. She let the weapon fall to the ground and ran over to me. As soon as she was within reach I lunged at her and bawled in her embrace. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner…”I had dealt with attacks of this nature before. Clients who went too far, or didn’t feel I deserved respect because of my occupation… But nothing as vicious and brutal like this. Bruised from beatings and bleeding in some places, I didn’t want to let go. “Don’t leave…” I tried to say, but it came out as garbled nonsense through my tears. “Shhh, it’s okay. I ain’t goin’ anywhere…”It took some time but eventually, I recovered as well as I ever would be. Rita had taken me into her house and made sure I was taken care of. It must have been hard on her, but this was the closest to having a mother I ever had. Despite the violence committed that night, she never got into trouble. I never told anyone what happened that night and even when the sheriff questioned me, I kept my mouth shut.

The only regret I have is not having been able to shoot him myself…

#((Last sad one I promise lol #Had to keep my stress somewhere I guess #warning for adult subject matter further down #Nothing explicitly graphic but it's a heavy subject #don't press read more if you have sensitive sensibilities)) #Maybe I shouldn't have posted this...

[emcolmediastudies-blog]

Amy Winehouse

 Profession: Singer/Song Writer

Years Active: 2003-2011 

Nationality: British 

 Background: Amy Winehouse undoubtedly is one of my favorite and most distinct voices of the past two decades. Her unique style and soulful voice laced over her emotion filled lyrics helped her make an impact on the music scene in the early 2000s but her story is one that is followed by heartbreak and abuse at the hands of the media that came with her life as a famous musician. Amy’s story is one of the first that came to mind upon my choosing to analyze media representation of mental illness and drug addiction. Amy grew up in North London with her first album Frank (2003) gaining success in the UK and her second album Back To Black ( October 2006) skyrocketing Amy’s career to an international high. With the success of her album Back To Black, Amy became a known name outside of the UK and became a known name in home’s around the world, including our own country. One of Amy’s most popular song’s in the United States, Rehab, gained her three Grammy Awards (arguably the most prestigious musical award one can win in the United States) winning her Record of the Year, Song of the Year, and Best Pop Female Vocal Performance (New York Times, 2008). Seen below is a touching video of Amy finding out she won and accepting the Grammy for record of the Year at the 50th annual Grammy Awards in 2008. 

As seen above, Amy gained massive success both in her home country of the UK and internationally for her immense talent, unique style, and emotion driven soul filled music that touched the hearts of so many but with her successes came a life of sorrow and tragedy fueled by the media. 

Representation of Amy In the Media:

Amy’s battle with mental illness and addiction coincided with the price she paid for doing what she loved for a living, selling her music which brought her fame and notoriety that only fueled her struggles while placing them in the burning spotlight for the entire world to judge. In an article by NPR radio discussing the 2015 documentary titled AMY which showed Winehouse’s life through personal footage of the singer, director Asif Kapadia explains “ "Amy sold newspapers. If she was on the cover of a tabloid, it sold more copies. If she was on a website, they got more hits," It was the dawning of the digital age, with the advent of YouTube, Facebook and other popular cultural websites, and "She was the unlucky one to be having a nervous breakdown in public at the time” (NPR,2015).  The documentary itself, released four years after Amy’s death from what was determined to be alcohol poising in 2011, gives an in depth view into who Amy was as a person and gives an intimate look into her life and struggles as a way to combat the media representation of her that escalated her addiction and mental illness (I highly recommend watching this documentary if you have not seen it, it is both moving and telling of the ways in which the media and the connection between heightened publicity as a price for fame and the ways in which the media represents celebrities who are struggling with both mental illness and addiction).

The problem with this though is this in depth and intimate look into Amy’s struggles didn’t come until it was far too late for the public to realize the ways in which the media were slowly pushing Amy and her struggles with mental illness and addiction to an untimely death at the young age of 27.  Amy’s life was changed when she became a celebrity and this push into the spotlight heightened mental illnesses such as anxiety, depression and bulimia and lead her to heavily abuse drugs such as cocaine, heroine, crack cocaine and heavy alcohol abuse. The media at the time took advantage of Amy’s pain, using her struggles with mental illness and addiction to sell newspapers and create a media circus that mocked not only Amy, but mental illness and addiction as a whole all for the profit of selling newspapers and gossip magazines. An example of this is when “ The Murdoch-owned Sun newspaper, for example, published images in 2008 of Winehouse smoking from a glass pipe alongside the headline "Amy Winehouse on crack," with a story claiming the singer had ingested a cocktail of drugs that included crack cocaine during a house party” (CNN,2011). 

 Above are some examples of headlines and articles created before and after the death of Amy showcasing the ways in which the media seeked to benefit from Amy’s struggles, painting her out to be a mess in the public eye yet deep down she was a human like the rest of us struggling to fight her own demons while trying to make a living doing what she loved which was singing but having to deal with fame and the media that came with it. It can even be seen in the ways in which paparazzi took photos of Amy (which will be posted below) how they chose to portray a woman who was struggling with mental illness and addiction as “crazy” and tortured her nonstop as she tried to fight her battles which were forced into the public eye.

 (Above is a shot posted on notorious celebrity gossip blogger Perez Hilton’s website mocking Amy with the title of the post reading “ The Many Faces of Amy Winehouse” in which he posts unflattering photos of Amy and mocks her drug addiction) (PerezHilton.com, 2008). 

As you can clearly see in these photos, paparazzi took full advantage of capturing Amy in times of distress and made her struggles out to be a media circus as viewers watched her unravel under the pressures of fame and her own mental well-being. The media not only tore down Amy but created a mockery of those suffering with mental illness and addiction and because of this, we lost one of the greatest voices of our generation. Amy Winehouse ultimately succumbed to her addictions and mental illness at the age of 27 when she passed away of what was pronounced as “ Alchohol Intoxication”  on July 23rd, 2011. Amy’s story is one of tragedy and cruelty at the hands of the media and is a clear reminder of the ways in which the media depict mental illness and addiction in a negative light and heighten the stigma of both addiction and mental illness in our society all for their own profit.

*** All photo credit to Google Images***

REFERENCES:

“Documentary Seeks To Free Amy Winehouse From Her Tabloid Legacy.” NPR, NPR, 8 July 2015, www.npr.org/2015/07/08/421141360/documentary-seeks-to-free-amy-winehouse-from-her-tabloid-legacy. 

Hilton, Perez. “The Many Faces Of Amy Winehouse - Perez Hilton.” Https://Perezhilton.com/, 6 Mar. 2008, perezhilton.com/the-many-faces-of-amy-winehouse/. 

 Leeds, Jeff. “Amy Winehouse Wins Big at Grammy Awards.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 11 Feb. 2008, www.nytimes.com/2008/02/11/arts/music/11gram.html. 

Willis, Paul. “Amy Winehouse and the British Tabloids.” CNN, Cable News Network, 26 July 2011, www.cnn.com/2011/OPINION/07/26/willis.winehouse.tabloids/index.html.

[reesebird]

New Post has been published on https://reesebird.com/2019/02/13/im-debating-burning-bridges-with-blood-family-any-advice/

I’m debating burning bridges with blood family. Any advice?

So, this is a little hard to talk about but I’ll try. I grew up in a fairly “average” household. Mom, dad, 1 sibling, 1-2 dogs, for a total of 4 humans and a pet or two at any one time. Before the ‘08 recession, my mom was a stay-at-home mom, and my dad worked. Following the recession, my mom went back to work, and my dad went from working 40 hours a week to 90+ hours a week. Not the healthiest, but not exactly abusive or anything like that. I’m starting with this, because I want to establish a baseline – my family wasn’t a “classically abusive family” like some of my friends and peers.

When I was in elementary school, there were 3 things that stood out. First, I was bullied incessantly by everyone (save literally one student I became friends with, but have since fallen out of touch). This began with verbal bullying, then in middle school escalated to being beaten up on four separate occasions, and finally, being punched in the face right in front of the teacher, who refused to do anything. Second, I wasn’t ever challenged academically. After kindergarten (which I completed at the local public school), I stopped being really taught. I attended a private religious school whose standards were so garbage that aside from handwriting, I learned next to nothing in my 8 years in attendance. Most of the teachers were lazy, and they cared only about turning in the homework. You could have every answer wrong on every piece of homework, and every answer wrong on every test, but by virtue of having turned something in, you were considered a “good student”. Meanwhile, anyone who had a “reputation for being smart” would be berated and belittled by the teachers for being ahead of the lesson plan. I was even handed a failing grade on a science project because the teacher hated me. And my grades slowly suffered. Not being challenged like I would’ve been at a public school, I slowly gave up. I went from a straight-A+ student to a student barely making C’s between 3rd & 8th grade. Not because I didn’t get the material (though I definitely didn’t get Spanish, and I thought religion made no logical, scientific sense), but because the homework just bored me to tears. My mom would yell at me every report card I didn’t get an A+, too. My first B, I was grounded for a month. When I started getting C’s, she told me I was worthless. And, when I failed Spanish my last quarter in 8th grade, she threatened to disown me. The third thing that stood out was that in spite of all of this, I tried to keep learning. I read constantly. Between 6th and 8th grade, I kept a spreadsheet of all the books I read, and what genre they were, and in total, read just shy of 1,000 books between my first day of 6th grade and my last day of 8th grade. I tried out Khan Academy, and did independent research. I even learned how to use the library’s database on my own so I could read engineering journals for free. And, all in all, I still loved academia.

In high school though, things began really breaking. I’d wanted to attend this fairly prestigious public school that had an actual engineering program (that included shop time!). But, my mom, not wanting me to risk getting involved with drugs and alcohol and gangs and underage sex and shit like that, very intentionally didn’t wake me on the day for testing to go to that school (we had 1 alarm clock in the house at the time, which was my parents’). So I missed the test. And couldn’t go. So, desperate for a chance to not fuck everything up, I tested at one of the 2 most rigorous private schools in the area. I got in, and was immediately made aware that I’d not learned anywhere near enough in grade school. I didn’t know enough to pass algebra 1 in math, I only passed English because my teacher gave me extended deadlines for everything, and in Chinese, despite doing extremely well at first, the original teacher left (family emergency) and I failed because the new teacher made no sense to me. And I struggled. And failed. And my mom would berate and belittle me for it. Finally, I was told I had failed out my freshman year. I hated myself. Everything I was taught to value – what I was taught was my only value – had just been demonstrated to me to be nonexistent. And therefore, I had no value.

Nowhere to go, I stayed at home that summer. I was brought to a crackpot psychiatrist by my mom, and diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. He recommended heavy, regulated, and monitored medication, but my mom wouldn’t hear any of it. She finally caved when told about the weakest medication that had the most marginal chance of helping me, but made me figure it out on my own, and with no supervision. She made me enroll in online classes so that I wouldn’t “waste my life being worthless”. I can’t learn online – it’s too detached, with nothing tactile, and no accountability. And it sucked. My depression got worse, and my medication did nothing, and finally, after a massive argument with my mom, I attempted suicide. My mom got home, and found me right before I would’ve died. She called 911, and I was taken to the hospital. My dad rushed home when he heard what had happened. He brought me my childhood stuffed animal, and fresh clothing, and made sure I was given food the moment I was cleared to. He even slept on the floor of the hospital room so he’d be with me. My mom? She didn’t spend time with me. She went, and told everyone she knew about what had happened, even though I explicitly told her that I wanted privacy on the matter. She continuously violated my trust, and refused to own up to it.

Fast forward to the summer I turned 16. I was slowly recovering from depression (and, as had been discovered by the actual psychiatrists I saw in the hospital, PTSD). I’d just gotten out of a relationship where I’d been gaslighted (though at the time, I didn’t know the word for it), and was questioning my gender identity and sexual orientation. I went to the library every day I could, and spoke with the librarians there all the time. They became more family to me than the family I’d been born with. They provided me resources, and helped me understand what I was going through. And when I finally came out, they were the first ones I came out to. When I was 17, I was walking the dogs with my dad one day, when he asked me when I was going to get my driver’s license (I’d not been in a brick-and-mortar school since my freshman year of high school, and I never really did research into driver’s ed). I told him I wanted to wait. He asked me until when. I then, in probably the dumbest move possible, said “until I can transition and change my gender marker.” His reaction was about what was fair, given that I’d never mentioned gender identity in the past to my parents. However, 6 months later, when in a family therapy session, I told my parents I was trans and wanted to medically transition, my dad responded with “let me look into insurance first, please.” My mom? She nearly made me homeless, and were it not for my dad putting his foot down and demanding she treat me with the dignity of a human being, I think that was what she wanted to do.

Over the course of the next year, I was constantly arguing with my mom, who thought my being trans was me trying to “get back at her” for the argument we’d had when I was 15 that led to my suicide attempt. Finally, exhausted, I gave up. I couldn’t take her anymore. I took the GED, got my high school equivalency certificate, and enrolled in community college. I began taking classes right away, hoping that my natural love for learning would be enough. Unfortunately it wasn’t, and I struggled. I took remedials though, and I eventually learned everything I needed. I recently got everything in line to train as a Honda-certified dealership mechanic. This past year, I dipped into my personal savings and began paying for medical transition through my local Planned Parenthood clinic, and got a psych evaluation done that led to a definitive diagnosis of being on the autism spectrum (a psych eval my mom refused to pay for when I was in the hospital)

I’m now 4 months into transition, and have a stable job & classes to take. I have a small network of close friends, and a couple of people who are basically unofficial surrogate family for me. I’m dating a wonderful woman who I’m absolutely in love with. And, I finally have enough money together to move out and burn bridges. Which brings us back to that question. My mom, I have learned, uses gaslighting tactics, is manipulative, and, had I known at a time that I could report it to DCFS, *clearly* qualifies as emotionally and psychologically abusive. My dad, while not a bad person, has this giant extended family (60+ total) that I hate (minus my grandpa & 1 cousin), but that he refuses to cut ties with. My younger brother isn’t terrible, but he’s a bit of an ass at times – standard sibling stuff. When I spent New Years with my girlfriend, I’d never felt safer, calmer, or more happy. Sure, part of that is that the relationship is still relatively young, but the safety? I don’t feel safe with anyone, even with the librarians I’m still in touch with, who I trust enough that I’d be confident in making them authorized medical decision makers in the event of my incapacitation (if not for state regulations making it impossible for that to happen). Is the potential damage worth it, in the end?

tl;dr – should I start fresh, even if I regret potentially hurting my dad?

[elizabethrobertajones]

Wait, wait... Who is the character of the season for the other seasons?

Funnily enough I was musing on this after I said that because I don’t think I ever collected them ALL up or thought about a couple, like season 3 which I never think about much if I can help it so that’s a bit of a mess :P It’s something I’ve cared about more since I watched the show after I caught up that first time to season 6, so one of those vague trains of thought I’ve nurtured ever since then. I suppose people can disagree but it’s not really about favourite or BEST characters to me but the ones I think are absolutely the heart of the season in a way with its themes or story or just hold the plot together with the way everything ties into them.

John, I’d say obviously but I suppose you could argue Azazel. They’re like the only 2 options as the ONLY other consistent characters all season, but John’s mentioned almost every episode, it’s his legacy, revenge mission, job as a hunter etc that they inherit, and they’re either searching for him or being guided by what they think he wants them to do or what they want to do in opposition to him. He has sporadic appearances or they have sporadic direct-ish interaction with him to keep up this thread.

Azazel, because now it actually turns up a gear and he’s a character who has some serious presence in the narrative, the special kids thing takes centre stage, and he and his plan lurk in the background; Dean’s angst comes down to what John said about Sam which links back to what Azazel did to him, Sam just dreads it. His death & fruition of his plans ends the season nicely.

Bela, but a massive wasted opportunity because of the strike and her story shoved in at the end; still as a parallel to Dean she means a LOT, and she manages to stir up trouble like getting Gordon AND Victor set on them at various points; she steals the Colt which affects everything, and I cry about the wasted opportunity, because despite the stiff competition from next season’s key character, she actually personifies season 3 in a really fascinating way. The world changed and she and Ruby are the faces of what’s different - Ruby in the plot, but Bela in how the story is told and stuff like continuing subplots about side characters, and people being in the story in a much more interactive way. I really wish that she had had better writing. Ruby on the other hand is mostly a plot mechanism and I only think she really has much impact in 3x09 in the end conversation on Dean, and 3x16 to get in an awkward conversation to start the season 4 stuff: Lilith just takes over Ruby at some point in the last confrontation so she just kind of fades out of that story once she did her part to get Sam and Dean to Lilith. 

I probably SHOULD say Cas, but this is Ruby’s season (they’re played off each other as opposites so like Ruby and Bela last season it could be one or the other). Cas has an incredible arc but Ruby is still the key to everything because she’s got the big betrayal coming up, while Cas’s stuff is all personal growth for HIMSELF and honestly the reason I re-watch season 4 so much and just skip to all the Cas scenes, but still. Story-wise, Ruby plays it undercover, her manipulation of Sam is apparent in nearly every episode, even when she’s not there, and she’s reflected in his change. The conflict that SHE is creating between Sam and Dean lurks under the surface of the whole season - I’ve talked a lot about how 4x06 mirrors 4x14 which of course mirrors the fight in 4x21 which leads to Sam going off with Ruby to start the apocalypse, and each time Sam’s in a worse place. And, of course, she probably is the most successful villain of the entire show. She’s woven into everything that happens between Sam and Dean this season, so she rightfully gets the crown.

Michael. Sorry, Lucifer, but you just kinda showed up and started monologuing everywhere and killed the tension. (Again, 2 character in contention and it’s pretty hilarious it’s them in a contest, but yeah :P) The actual dread was always about your brother showing up, and he’s in 2 scenes in person, and spends the entire season scaring the crap out of Dean. Sam’s relationship to being possessed by Lucifer is advertised as inevitable, played up the entire time, and clearly part of his teased downfall/actual redemption and it’s there all season and so you COULD say it’s Lucifer, but I find Dean vs Michael to be more of the MAIN plot because Dean’s resistance, wobble where he nearly gives in and then riding in to save the day at the end to be the sort of main plot where a character had agency. That’s all done in opposition to Michael, and so being possessed by Michael and the way he can deny Dean the agency to save the world is the real threat when you look back on how Dean did it by showing up in full Dean “humanity” Winchester style. I hope I’m not just being a full on Dean!girl about this, but I think the story they told makes him the REAL antagonist, and he’s defeated in 5x18 and that allows Dean to reconcile all his emotional crap with Sam, and for all the mechanical parts of the plan to fall in place (finding out about the rings, getting them, etc), and his ABSENCE after that allows Dean’s character growth

Cas, poor thing. This time all about his absence, and the build up to what he’s doing. And then 6x20, and the reveal. It’s such a masterful episode putting everything into context that I don’t even know what to write about it except like, hey, now I want to go watch it again :P Anyway it squarely puts Cas at the heart of the drama, and from 6x01 the question of Cas’s absence and what he was doing over that year was subtly raised, and his absence and lack of help gets louder and louder as it goes on, until after the 2/3rds mark we begin to find out more of what he’s actually UP to. 

Bobby, hands down. He is the on-screen story of grief and loss that mirrors Dean losing Cas and then Cas coming back in a way Dean can’t handle; the season opens and closes with Cas and Dean, with all the Godstiel drama and Dean losing Cas, but the Leviathans just fill space with all their metaphorical depression darkness washing over the world. And Dean needs to make it right with Cas because he needs Cas to get Dick. (Sorry, I watched it last night… So much cackling about boning and Dick like they were cramming in every last joke they hadn’t made yet :P) But again Cas is absent most of the season, and we get a build up with Bobby being more present in their lives than ever, and more active a hunter than ever, and then a whole episode dedicated to losing him, and a whole arc about him returning. He indirectly stops them going after Dick the first time, which actually saves them from walking into the Dick made more Dicks trap, and allows Dean to reconcile with Cas. He lashes out at him BEFORE they move Bobby on, Cas silently attends burning Bobby’s flask, and the next scene is Dean getting it together and forgiving Cas, and learning to approach him, having let go of Bobby. I think Bobby is metaphorical for a HUGE amount of Dean’s issues, from the depression and suicidal feelings and his alcoholism, which he enabled by always pouring a drink every time something sucky happened all through season 6 and the start of 7… Bobby represented a LOT of old ways to survive hunting day after day but not to live a long and fulfilled life, and season 7 grapples with all these dark themes, and in the end they let him go. 

Ack, tough one and I have been thinking about it, and I would probably say Metatron despite his brief appearances and the fact he was mentioned in 7x21, but not again until 8x21; still, Kevin is his adjacent main character of the season and Kevin represents most of the tablet drama, because his presence enables Crowley to get all excited about having his tablet read, and for Naomi to freak out and hurry to protect HER tablet. Kevin’s presence as someone who can read all this for whoever snatches him motivates everything, BUT it’s all Metatron’s work, and Metatron’s writing, and in the end the grand scheme he and God had with the tablets and taking down the word and creating prophets. Metatron’s advice in 8x21 to Dean is haunting for season 9, and once he’s back in the game he goes for it and destroys the whole natural order as it had once been since basically Creation. Sam was attempting to do it for GOOD, but fails. Cas is duped into doing a similar struggle, and Metatron does it for evil. Anyway, he’s the heart of all the turmoil in season 8, and like Azazel in season 2 and Ruby in season 4, is the successful villain as a result of being thematically well-placed in the story.

Gadreel, who did what he had to do all the way through the season to wildly mixed results and represents the entire struggle this season. He’s paralleled to Sam, and Cas, and Dean and gets to be Metatron’s lackey for a while. Sam compares how he felt to vengeful spirit type feelings and behaviour, the same feeling that powers Dean while he has the Mark, and both take on these revenge missions which are pointless and filled with collateral damage. Metatron uses Gadreel as a weapon just as Crowley is hoping to add Dean to his collection. 

Rowena, who like Kevin in season 8 was the key to getting all the plot stuff done, but this time represents a sort of warning of the coming threat of Amara - the powerful but trapped feminine force appearing in the narrative. Always in chains or imprisoned, she lashes out with her attack dog spell that makes people rabid. She represents a way to talk about a lot of the family stuff, lurking in the background of all the big family stuff - we paralleled her meeting Crowley to Cas reconnecting with Claire, for example, or being the reason Dean explains what family is and isn’t to Crowley in 10x17, obviously paralleled to Cas and Sam off in the background trying to save him with Bobby’s help, who first said that about family. She’s in a ton of episodes and I can’t actually remember them all because I’ve only watched it once, but she and Crowley had a whole mini arc in the background of several episodes, before the whole season ended up being about her spell from the Book of the Damned and the sacrifice she had to make for it. (because of 12x13 I actually was only thinking of this one last week; up until this point I had a thought from during season 10 that it might be Cole if they went down that path of all the revengey father issues stuff, but the season was way more about mothers in the end... because it was about Cole I gave up caring about analysing that pretty quickly and never came back to fill in the gap :P)

Amara kind of hogs this one, and the same deal as with Michael back in season 5, but this time Dean’s positive growth in the end is about letting her go. Like with season 5 he overcomes this milestone shortly before the end - 11x21 I think was where he met her in the woods and resisted her properly. That’s the parallel to 5x18 and him managing not to be possessed by Michael. After that the elements fall together to resist her, and once again Dean “Humanity” Winchester, unburdened, walks in to talk it out, this time without anyone getting hurt or dying. This season seems to be all about her dark compulsion on Dean and also the consequences of her being locked away, this time setting up the stage for the next season and Mary’s return

You’ll notice I rarely list actual main characters except Cas that one time, and I stand by Ketch being the representation of this season because I think Mary fitting under the family bracket makes it all interpersonal drama, and so far I think Ketch has been written to represent all the other themes outside of family much more consistently, like with what the main plot is and what the villains truly represent… Knowing HE is awful while all the others try to play nice, especially, acts as the reminder he’s what’s underneath their nice mask. I suppose the BMoL as a whole are the key thing this season, and we still don’t know who the boss is so by the end I may change this to a season 8 Kevin > Metatron one if the leader is compelling, but Ketch is the character they built up with like 5 faceless appearances of increasing horror before he showed up with a grenade launcher and that stroll into shot, and like I said, he’s horrifying enough that I’m sticking him with Amara and Michael as the GENUINELY scary villains who hog the story. :P This season’s themes are pretty different and the style is really hard to grasp one clear thing compared to the other seasons because it’s churned up all the other seasons into it, so the family are all re-treading a ton of past emotional beats and whirring through their own stuff destroying various re-takes on ALL their past mistakes and emotional arcs. The Ketch stuff is an actual clear line through the story and completely unique to this season and its stuff. Like, “oh yeah this season one of the Winchesters is betraying another and now two of them are betraying the third and -” yeah it’s all been there done that… This guy managed to be a menacing enough presence we guessed he was stalking them from a single glance at a motorbike an episode before that was ever confirmed to be his :P 

#Asks #my stuff #uuh I have no idea how to tag this #just bunging it in the tag for where all my weird thoughts about stuff are and leaving it at that or I tag the entire show somehow >.>